Valedictory Statements

E Te Mana Whakawā, tēnā koe. Tuatahi, he mihi ki Te Atua, nāna nei ngā mea katoa! Ngā mihi ki a koutou e te whānau, ngā mihi ki a koutou ki aku hoa o Te Whare Pāremata. He rā kia whai whakaaro ai ahau, he rā tēnei mō te whakahari, he rā anō mō te matapōuri.

[An appreciation to God firstly, as all things are His indeed. Acknowledgments to you collectively, the family, and to you my colleagues of Parliament. It is a day for me to reflect on, and this is a day for me to make merry and also to be dejected.]

Today is a day for reflection and a day for celebration, and maybe even a touch of sorrow—maybe not. Today I stand to make my 153rd, and last, speech in this debating chamber. While my 3 short years here is a mere blip compared with the other speakers whom you will hear from today, it also marks the end of 16 years as an elected member, which started when I was first elected to the Palmerston North City Council in 2001.

I want to start by acknowledging and thanking a number of people. Firstly, my family, who have believed in me, stood by me, and supported me through all of this—particularly Karen, Chloe, Luke, and George, and, more recently, Elisha and Ruamatahīapo. Thank you for sharing me with the public and for putting up with all that comes with public life. I have been privileged to do some pretty cool, significant things in my life, but there is nothing I have done, or will ever do, that is cooler or more significant than being your husband, your father, and your grandfather.

I want to thank my friends, who have believed in me, stood by me, and simply accepted me for who I am and not defined me by the titles that I have had.

Thank you also to my financial supporters and volunteers who have helped me campaign over the years and who have put up signs and delivered thousands of flyers to letterboxes. Without your help I would never have had the privilege of doing what I have done. Particularly, I want to acknowledge Trevor Day and Wendy Schultze from the local National Party for your unwavering commitment and your willingness to go beyond the call of duty.

I have also been fortunate to have had some awesome staff in my time in Parliament. Sheryll, Bernadette, Gareth, Katie, and Elliot, you have all gone the extra mile to ensure that our constituents are well cared for and to keep me on track.

Thank you also to the National Party for giving me this awesome opportunity to serve in the House of Representatives. To my caucus colleagues, it has been great to work with you and to be part of a great team that has been led by two incredible Prime Ministers in the Rt Hon Sir John Key and the Rt Hon Bill English.

I also want to acknowledge the friends whom I have made amongst other parties across the House, particularly the members of the Justice and Electoral Committee and the Social Services Committee. We have spent a lot of time together over the past 3 years, and although we have had our challenges and the odd debate, we have also mostly kept good humour and civility, and I thank you for that.

Lastly, I want to thank those people who have made submissions to the committees that I have been on in the past 3 years. In our committees we have dealt with some pretty heavy issues, from how coronial services work, to child abuse and domestic violence, and more. Your willingness to make yourself vulnerable and tell your stories has enriched our decision making and has taken a great deal of courage.

The privilege of serving in this House has not been lost on me, and I do not believe it is ever something that we as politicians should ever take for granted. Every day I walk down these halls I marvel that a boy from Masterton who became a youth worker and did a whole bunch of other things somehow had the opportunity to be one of 120 New Zealanders who at any one time gets to hold this position. I am here not because I am anyone special, but because the people in New Zealand have seen fit to entrust their welfare and their future into our hands. We serve at their pleasure and with their best interests at heart.

The good news is that I am convinced that by far the majority of people who also serve here also hold this view. We may disagree on the finer points of what we are trying to achieve for New Zealand, but, by and large, we differ only on our methodology, rather than the outcomes we strive for. It is important that we do not lose sight of this in the heat of political debate.

Over my time here I have developed a love-hate relationship with this room. The challenge of speaking for 10 minutes on a topic you know nothing about is both exhilarating and soul-destroying all at the same time. The pointlessness of some of what we say drives me nuts, but at the same time the to and fro of debate has its enjoyment also. I have done my best to keep what I say in here good-natured and in good spirit, but I acknowledge that at times I may or may not have crossed the line. So if I have caused anyone offence in what I have said in a speech or interjected across the floor, I sincerely apologise and ask that you would look at it as over-exuberance, rather than it having any malicious intent.

I have certainly had some fun and interesting times during my brief stay in Parliament. Shortly after starting here, I was selected to represent the New Zealand Parliament at a United Nations human rights conference in the Philippines. I was not sure what to expect, to be fair, as my travelling companions, Marama Fox and Peeni Henare, were from other parties. It was all a bit of a new experience for all of us, having armed motorcyclists escorting our minivan from the airport to the hotel, but we soon got into the swing of it, and I am sure the Manila karaoke scene will never be the same again. It proved to be the beginning of an uncanny connection between the three of us, as somehow we ended up on a number of subsequent panels together over the past few years, leading to the fact that every time we turned up and the same people were there, we said we were getting the band back together.

There have also been some very odd moments, as a parliamentarian. One of the most interesting occurred during a protest at my office about the Trans-Pacific Partnership agreement. The police were concerned about safety, and so as a good employer under the new health and safety Act, I sent my staff home, and the police provided me with my very own close protection squad member. He had a Taser, but no gun.

Shortly before the protest was due to begin, someone came and sort of knocked on the window of my Parliamentary Service - approved reception window. I greeted her as I normally would and asked her whether I could help. She said: “Is this where the protest is?”. Given that I was about to be inundated with sign-waving, loud hailer - bearing protesters, it was my decision not to necessarily be quite as helpful as I might otherwise have been. I replied “What protest is that?”, and—I kid you not—her response was this: “I don’t know. They just said there was a protest at Jono Naylor’s office, so here I am.” I then decided that it was OK to be polite again, and I said to her: “Look, I’m sure that if there is a protest of any kind, it is more likely to be occurring outside the office, rather than inside the office. So if you would like to go outside and wait and see if anybody else turns up, that’ll be fine.” While I am sure that some of the protesters there may have been a little bit more informed, it did make me wonder about the validity of their message.

While I would like to say there has never been a dull moment in the past 3 years, that would not be completely honest. As crucial and as helpful as they are to the successful running of New Zealand, some pieces of legislation that I have helped progress through this House have not exactly been riveting. The Judicature Modernisation Bill, in its 1,200-page glory, and the Private International Law (Choice of Law in Torts) Bill are a couple that spring to mind. That said, if nothing else, both of those bills helped me extend my vocabulary.

However there have also been legislative and policy changes that I have been very proud to be associated with. The increases to benefits for families with children in real terms for the first time in 43 years, the introduction of the social investment strategy to ensure that more early intervention is put in place for those who face the greatest risk of long-term poor outcomes for their lives, improving our laws to deliver better outcomes for victims of domestic and sexual violence, and, of course, the Oranga Tamariki legislation to ensure that the services for the protection of our most vulnerable children is delivering real improvements to their lives are only a few of them.

It has been great to be part of a Government that has been prepared to tackle some of the difficult issues and take measures to improve people’s lives. If anyone doubts the sincerity of this, they only need to witness, as I did, the Hon Steven Joyce getting a little bit choked up when talking about how he felt seeing people talk about what a difference the changes announced in the Family Incomes Package in this year’s Budget would make to their lives.

A definite high point for me, though, in the last 3 years was one of those impromptu moments. It was an off-the-cuff speech I made on Te Pire mō Te Reo Māori / Māori Language Bill. I had not been intending to speak on that bill, but wandered into this House, as sometimes we are wont to do as politicians, looking for somebody, and I received a text from the other side of the House, from Peeni Henare, inciting me to inject myself into the debate. I could not resist the opportunity, and I proceeded to deliver a short, heartfelt speech on the importance I believe Te Reo Māori has to my family and to New Zealand. My executive assistant the next morning suggested I post this speech on Facebook, and I went “Oh, OK then.”, and then something very interesting happened. Up until that point the greatest reach that I had ever had on Facebook was 20,000 people, which I thought was pretty cool. That is just normal for some of you, I know. But within a week this speech had somehow reached over a million people. I was overwhelmed not just by the volume of people viewing this but by the comments they were making, the gist of which from Māori was: “We can’t believe there’s a middle-aged, middle-class white guy talking about the importance of Te Reo.”

I learnt a couple of lessons at that time. The first is you cannot control social media, as ultimately it has a life of its own. The second was a reminder of the importance of middle-class, middle-aged white guys talking about issues in which we personally have no self-interest. When Pākehā talk about issues that are important to Māori, when men do not leave it up to women to talk about the issues that affect women, and when those who have never faced abuse talk about how to stop it from ever occurring, that is when we begin to see the shift in power to enable even more an equitable society. This Facebook experience reminded me of a famous quote that I had learnt during my social work degree days from a chap called Freire, who said: “Washing one’s hands of the conflict between the powerful and the powerless means to side with the powerful, not to be neutral.” As leaders and those with a voice in our communities, we must not lose sight of our ability to speak up for those whose voice may not otherwise be heard.

I want to conclude now with a couple of challenges. Firstly, to the media who cover Parliament, please do not lose sight of the fact that you are reporting on people who, just like you, have families and friends. Yes, we as politicians need to be accountable, and we put ourselves in the spotlight to be judged, but the crazed, salivating pack mentality that inevitably seems to come when a scandal is in the air is not particularly becoming. Please remember you are reporters here to inform the public, not New Zealand’s version of the Hollywood paparazzi and gossip columnists.

To my colleagues and friends of this House, I salute you. This is a tough gig. It takes amazing commitment, character, and resolve to do it well. Never lose sight of who you are, never lose sight of the importance of your family and friends, and never lose sight of the reason you came here. Kia kaha, kia māia, kia manawanui—be strong, be steadfast, be willing.

And with those final words, Mr Speaker, I bid you and this House farewell. Nō reira, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tātou katoa, e noho rā.

[Applause]

Waiata

I have to say that I never thought, sitting in Mike Moore’s home at the age of 14 signing up as a member of the Labour Party, that some 33 years later, at the age of 47, I would be standing in the House—and, of course, sitting next to the Labour icon whom we call “Araldite”, the Hon Annette King, whom we honour tomorrow—making this valedictory speech, having had the privilege of serving 18 years as a member of Parliament. I served 18 years, 9 years of which were with the privilege of being in Government, including 3 years as a Cabinet Minister, holding eight ministerial portfolios; I spent 9 years in Opposition, including 6 years as a front-bencher; and, especially, I had 12 years representing the wonderful people of the Waimakariri electorate. To quote an old mate, every day has been an honour and every hour has been a privilege in this place. There is no higher honour, I think, in a democracy than to be elected to by your people to serve your country, and I thank the people and the Labour Party for giving me that opportunity.

My political career has not been without the odd bit of controversy. Those who have been around will remember the stoush in 1993 between Mike Moore and Helen Clark for the leadership of my venerable party. Of course, I was, and I remain, in the Mike Moore camp, so it would be fair to say that when I was nominated for selection for the seat of Waimakariri in 1999, things got a tad interesting. The selection meeting lasted until about 1.30 in the morning—which is pretty traditional for Labour Party selections—but somehow I prevailed. The following Tuesday, the Labour caucus met, and the then party president, Bob Harvey, who had presided over the selection, was asked to make a report on it. According to my old mate, the former MP George Hawkins—who could not be here today—Bob’s report was short but to the point: “Well, I tried. I really did try. I gave it my best shot, but he ended up the democratically selected candidate for Waimakariri.”

Suffice it to say, all wounds have long since healed, and it was an honour to serve in Helen Clark’s Government and to be appointed to work with her as a Minister. She is a true friend and a true stateswoman for New Zealand.

The people of the Waimakariri electorate are wonderful souls, and I relished representing them. I am indebted to them for their wisdom, their friendship, and their generosity.

In fact, on one occasion, I do recall vividly their generosity. As a newly minted candidate in 1999, I was doorknocking in a community called Pines Beach—a fantastic little community. I knocked on a door, and this young bloke appeared in nothing at all but his underwear, looking a bit worse for wear too, I have got to say. I said “Look, I’m the Labour guy.”, and he said: “Oh yeah, I know who you are. You’ve got my vote. Don’t worry about it. Now, you fellows have to raise money, don’t you?”. I said “Yeah, we do.”, and he said: “Hang on, I’ve got a donation for you.”

He disappeared into the house, came back, and when he arrived he had a packet of cigarette papers in one hand and a small bag of marijuana in the other. He then proceeded to advise me on how to get as many joints as possible out of a bag of marijuana so as to maximise the revenue for my campaign. Being prudent, I thanked him very much for his kind offer, thanked him for his vote, pointed him in the direction of his nearest polling place, and got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

I have to say that as a newly elected member of Parliament, and this will not surprise many, I did relish the debate, the hand-to-hand combat, and the humour—I will miss it—in this place. Just to reinforce that to the public mind, MPs young and old can be disrespectful and brash, I recall the day that my old sparring partner and fellow St Bede’s College old boy, Gerry Brownlee—who would be deeply offended if I did not mention him in my speech—and I had exchanged some pleasantries in the Chamber. Gerry had made a point of making an admiring comment that I was follicly challenged. I think his words were: “That is the worst comb-over I have ever seen in my life.” I then looked to return fire. At one point Gerry said to me: “Clayton, do you know that you are sitting in the same seat that I first sat in when I was elected?”. I replied: “Yeah, I know.” He looked a bit stunned, and he said: “How did you know that?”. I said: “Well, it’s easy, mate. The springs have gone.” Sadly, none of that humour made it into Hansard—which we have corrected today.

But I do want to recall, on a serious note—because it is true that Gerry and I had our moments in this place and we disagreed, and at times we disagreed on policy issues intently. But I say this: I do admire the tenacity and commitment that he showed in his role as earthquake recovery Minister for the great province that we love and the people of Canterbury.

It was an honour to serve as a Cabinet Minister, not for the title and what comes with the office, but to have the power to make a positive change. I am proud of the reforms I have put in place in respect of real estate, property law, the licensing of builders and building practitioners to try to get the cowboys out of the construction sector, the provision of low-cost alternative dispute resolution mechanisms for those involved in leaky-home cases, the JP reforms, and the passage and reforms to the Immigration Act, and I am proud of having got the $190 million business case over the line for the Eden Park flagship venue for the Rugby World Cup.

But it is not only in Government that you can make a positive contribution. Sure, it is a fact that in Opposition you do not have any real power, but you have the power to cajole, you have the power to apply pressure, and, most importantly, you never give up. I am proud of the 2-year campaign I waged as State-owned enterprises spokesman, with the support of West Coast - Tasman MP and my good mate, Damien “Chainsaw” O’Connor, to expose the mismanagement and incompetence that led to the collapse of a once export award - winning company, Solid Energy. Sadly, the only people who paid the price for that fiasco and lost their livelihoods and jobs were the folks who literally worked at the coalface.

The Canterbury earthquakes, like they did for so many people, had a profound and lasting effect on me. I had never seen human tragedy on a scale such as this, and the layers of the suffering were deep and complex. The mental and emotional suffering went on and on for the weeks and months and years that followed, and for some in our community it continues today—especially the kids.

I am proud of the work that we did, and I say “we” because I include all Canterbury colleagues and those from other regions, from all political parties. We saved lives, and I do not mean in the initial physical aftermath of the tragic quakes. The credit for that amazing work, of course, resides alone with those amazing emergency responders, who put their lives on the line for others. What I mean is that in the months and years after, we collectively dealt with thousands of folks whose lives were torn apart, who were emotionally and mentally on the brink, and who were staring into the abyss, and we helped them. We battled insurance companies, we pressured the bureaucracy, and, yes, at times, we utilised the media to make the public case. We, collectively—all members of Parliament—hauled those folks back from the brink and got them their lives back. They are now smiling. Their kids are smiling. They are in decent homes. They have got their lives back. I think that is at the very essence of the real work of members of Parliament, which is something the media and some commentators forget.

I am proud that throughout that period I was the Labour Opposition earthquake recovery spokesman. I did not exploit the situation by politicising it, despite the demands of some that I should, and the characterisation by others that vigorous public advocacy for earthquake victims via the media was in some way political.

I witnessed many things I will never forget—some disturbing, but many inspiring—from the spontaneous formation of the Rangiora Express, established by Jayne and Mike Rattray, who formed their own private air force and flew food by helicopter to isolated parts of Christchurch for weeks, to the incredible generosity of people like Dave Pilkington. Dave is a Belfast guy. Kaiapoi had established during the earthquakes an emergency food bank, and the call went out for food because stocks were low. Dave ran a pack-house for vegetables—he owned his business—and I rang him up and I said we needed help. In the typical fashion, the reply was “Tell me what you need.”, and then a truck arrived full of fresh vegetables. What I did not know at the time was that Dave, of course, did not own the vegetables, but he had packed them for other businesses. But the truck came, none the less, and its contents had been paid for personally by Dave Pilkington.

I have always tried to be an advocate for business and industry because, at its core, it is the commercial sector that creates jobs and gives opportunities for people to better their lives. But to grow and develop, businesses require greater access to global markets. We need the world; it does not necessarily need us.

It is no secret that I have always been, and remain, a strident supporter of free trade. It is a fact—undisputed—that in the last 50-plus years, thanks to open markets, more people have been lifted out of poverty than in any time in our history. It is a fact that as developing countries gain access to global markets, living standards, environmental standards, and labour standards are increased, and the institutions that encourage investment in those countries are built.

I remain a supporter of the Trans-Pacific Partnership. I note that the argument is made that in signing that agreement, New Zealand would give up part of its sovereignty. I respect that view. But the same is true when we sign any international agreement, whether it be the Paris climate change treaty, International Labour Organization agreements, or UN protocols. In each case, we as a nation agree that in giving up certain sovereign rights, we are attempting to make the world a better place through collective action.

This House has produced many a fantastic and incredible trade Minister, from Brian Talboys to Joe Walding, Mike Moore, Philip Burdon, Jim Sutton, and Phil Goff, to name but a few. Each has built on the work of the others to advance New Zealand’s global interests in a bipartisan way. We must move back to a cross-party consensus on international trade. Stakeholders in our community must be engaged with. They must be brought into the discussion and not shut out, as they have been in the recent past, because fear is a creation of the unknown. Trade policy must last well beyond a 3-year electoral cycle, but, colleagues, to do that, it requires movement from both major political parties—Labour and National.

I want to pay tribute and thank a number people who have been unwavering supporters of mine but who have also had a profound influence on my life. To the people of Waimakariri, thank you for allowing me to represent you for four terms. I loved every minute of it. Waimakariri is like a little slice of New Zealand. It is a strong and generous community that has been through so much in recent years, but it has bounced back. Its enthusiasm is infectious.

To my electorate team and to my committee members—my members are so ably led by Sally Thompson, who is here today—thank you. Sally may hold the record for being the longest-serving committee chair in Labour history. My team were loyal to a fault—hardened campaign battlers who relished an election fight. They organised, raised money, and campaigned without fuss or glamour—they just got stuck in. I thank them for their commitment, their support, and their friendship, which I will never forget.

To my local staff, both past and present, especially Emma, Linda, Juliet, Heather, and Nelly—you are world-class. Our staff, after all, are at the front line when it comes to assisting local people. They are the unsung heroes every day, as they see the heartache and deal with the frustration of those who need help. It takes a dedicated kind of person to deal with casework, especially during the years of earthquake recovery.

To my current local staffer, Donna Dawber, I give a special note of thanks. You are not only a fantastic and highly respected staff member but you are a close mate. Only you and I know the sacrifices you made personally for the job and to support me, and I thank you so much.

To my then ministerial staff and the public servants I have had the privilege to work with, thanks for your professionalism, for your judgment, for your advice, and for always telling me the truth and challenging my thinking without fear or favour. You all worked unbelievably hard to support me and to implement the then Government’s programme. But, let us be honest, you also played hard as well, and in some ways I still remember those very, very long parties. No Minister has had a better staff.

To my parliamentary staff past and present—Willy, Tim, Lorraine, Ben, Steph, Maryanne, and Maylene—I say thanks for the endless hours and for coping with the ever-changing schedule, and for the sheer hard grind that is Parliament. It does take a special set of skills to cover up for my mistakes. To my—[Interruption] I knew that would get ’em. To my researchers, Richard and Corrine, and my media staff at the time, Miles and John, I say you are all exceptional political hunter-gatherers.

A note to all the parliamentary staff, security, messengers, caterers, cleaners, travel folk, the library—that wonderful institution we have—and its researchers, the Office of the Clerk, and all staff. I thank you for the support you gave me.

To my mother and father, Barbara and Rex, thanks for all of your love and support. I would not be standing here today had it not been for the sacrifices you both made. It was the two of you who taught me the values that I have tried to live by—thank you.

Also, thanks to Jane’s parents, Don and Barbara, who I think were not too sure about their daughter’s judgment—[Interruption]—yeah, I knew that would get a laugh, too—or taste in men when she first brought this MP home to meet them. Thanks for supporting me, and for being there for Jane on the many, many occasions when I could not be.

To Mike and Yvonne Moore, who are my other family and my closest friends—Mike and Yvonne could not be here today, but I know that they are watching from home. I know—and I can bet the house on this—that I will get a call from Mike at the conclusion of this speech with a gentle critique and some ideas to convey. Too late—I have gone.

It is no secret that Mike has had a profound impact and influence on my life as a mate and as a mentor. A journalist once wrote—when I was first selected as a candidate—that I even looked like Mike. I reminded that misguided soul that at that time, at least, I was thinner and had more hair. Some have even speculated that Mike wrote many of my speeches—a notion that I suspect he would still argue was legally actionable, given some of the questionable and varying quality of my contributions over the years.

It was an honour to work for him when he was a Minister, when he was a Prime Minister—and I remember those glorious 8 weeks like they were yesterday; I could tell you a few things, Jacinda—and when he was leader of the Labour Party. The 1993 campaign was incredible and is etched into my memory, as it is for the three fellow “Beagle Boys”, who sit in the gallery. They are Peter, Sue—well Sue is an honorary one—and Barry. It is worth noting that the 1993 election result was the biggest increase in seats in Labour history, apart from the 1935 landslide.

It was incredible to watch Mike’s determination and sheer grit as he campaigned and prevailed to become Director-General of the World Trade Organization, the highest international office ever attained by a New Zealander. We all remain so proud of his work on behalf of New Zealand as Ambassador to the United States. He was, indeed, a worthy recipient of the Order of New Zealand. I want to place on record my thanks to former Prime Ministers Dame Jenny Shipley and Sir John Key, and the then foreign Minister Murray McCully for recognising and utilising Mike’s energy and talents on behalf of our country. I lament the fact that my own political tribe never did the same when in Government.

Mike has always stood up for the Kiwi battlers. With his trademark enthusiasm, his relentless energy, and his fundamental belief in Labour values, he has always been, and will remain, an inspiration to me. An incredible legacy from a Kawakawa boy who left school at 15—he was a Labour leader, a Labour hero, a true patriot, and the ultimate true believer. I owe him a debt I can never repay.

Most importantly, my thanks go to Jane. My darling Jane—the love of my life—thank you for all your unwavering support, in good times and in bad. Thank you for your advice and your good humour. Thanks for your forgiveness for all those absences and all those jobs at home that never got done. Thank you for the unseen work you did in our community, and the sacrifices you made in support of my career. You are always a ray of sunshine, even in the darkest moments.

To the Labour Party—the members, the supporters, and the colleagues—thank you for giving me the opportunity to be part of an incredible movement. The Labour Party’s greatest strength throughout its history is its ability to constantly evolve and recognise and address the changing needs and priorities of our community.

My late grandfather was Labour to his bones. He started life working at Millar’s bakehouse in Invercargill. Some years later, he saved enough money to buy a barber shop. He became a business person. His mates thought that given he had changed jobs from being a worker to becoming a boss, that would mean he would be a Tory—a National Party supporter. They thought he would change sides. Not so. Yes, he worried less about overtime and wage rates, and more about depreciation and tax and staff and making a business profitable. In essence, his priorities had changed, but his values had not. He stayed loyal to Labour because it was Labour that evolved with him, with new policy and new vision that recognised his needs.

From time to time in its history, my beloved Labour Party has stopped evolving, and when that happens, people become disengaged and the party seems distant from them. This is something that we, as a movement, must guard constantly against. Jacinda, you have hit the restart button on the evolution of our party. You have turbo-boosted it, and long may that continue.

I will miss this place and, if I am honest, I will, as I have said, miss the day-to-day political combat. Politics is infectious. It gets in your blood. It is like cocaine, as it is addictive.

I am reminded of the words of the infamous Graham Richardson—who, for those who do not know, was Bob Hawke’s Minister for Social Security in the 1980s—when he described the excitement of politics as being better than sex and almost as good as a big feed. I do not agree with Richardson’s extreme notion—although Trevor Mallard may; I am not sure—nor will I comment on its component parts, but it does show that from time to time our Australian cousins can be slightly misguided.

I will treasure the friendships I have made across the House. Contrary to popular belief, we as MPs may argue with each other—in fact, that is actually what we get paid to do; to tease out the good ideas and challenge the status quo for the good of our country—but we do not hate each other. This Chamber is like a boxing ring. This is the “Circus Maximus”. You slug it out with your opponents, and then you have a beer with them afterwards—this is a good thing.

I know, like other former members, that once I leave this place I will suddenly, as if by some miracle, have all the answers to the great problems and issues that eluded me when I was here. And I know that my Labour colleagues, especially Kris Faafoi and Megan Woods, are looking forward to me inflicting those views on them, year after year after year.

To all colleagues on all sides, I wish you well.

To Jacinda and Kelvin, you carry the hopes and dreams of so many with you, and that is a heavy challenge to bear. You have energised our party and this campaign. The people of New Zealand are sitting up and taking notice. No longer can we be called old and grey—apart from me. Your enthusiasm has become infectious, and I would wager to say it is making some of our political opponents look like the last committee meeting at the Kremlin before the Berlin Wall came down.

I make a prediction here tonight. I am no soothsayer, but I reckon we are going to go up in the polls, and up in the polls substantially. Jacinda, I look forward to 24 September, when you will change our party’s tagline from “Let’s do this” to “We’ve done it”.

I wish you all the best. I am now out of here.

[Applause]

On the day that I stepped down as the Minister of Foreign Affairs, I received an email from a person who had been in my class at school, remarking that it was a wonderful thing that someone could come from Arapohue School and Dargaville High School and go on to serve in the New Zealand Parliament and as New Zealand’s foreign Minister. In the small farming community in which I grew up, the notion of a university education for less than stellar students like myself was regarded as fanciful and any idea of being elected to the Parliament absurd. So as I come to the end of a 30-year term in this Parliament, including a lengthy period as a Minister of the Crown, it is very hard to convey how incredibly fortunate I feel to have had the opportunities that have come my way.

We had lost the East Coast Bays seat for the previous three elections before I won it in 1987, with the princely majority of 311 votes. I leave Parliament having achieved a majority of 15,000. Today I want to record my enormous appreciation to the people of East Coast Bays for the confidence and support given to me over 10 elections and for the great honour and privilege of serving as the member for East Coast Bays for 30 years.

I give my sincere thanks to the hard-working East Coast Bays electorate team, who over the years made it possible for me to win and then consolidate a previously marginal seat. Many of them are here today. Many of them have worked for me throughout those 30 years, and I am truly grateful to them. I thank the many staff members and officials who have kept me in business and the close friends and family who have supported me.

I want to extend my best wishes to Prime Minister Bill English and Deputy Prime Minister Paula Bennett and the about-to-be former colleagues of mine. New Zealand today is in better shape than virtually any country of our type in the world. Occasionally in the past this country has got some runs on the board but then lost its focus. You have a unique opportunity to build on a tremendous base, and you have my best wishes.

When Maurice Williamson and I were first elected to this Parliament it was a very different place, especially prior to the introduction of MMP in 1996. The combination of the need to be personally present to cast a vote in the interminable hours of urgency made this a much more intimate and sociable place. Cast-iron discipline was required from the whips, with any absence requiring a pair from the other side.

Back in the late 1980s Maurice Williamson, Winston Peters, Ross Meurant, and I determined that it would be logistically possible to depart towards the end of question time, attend the North Harbour - Wellington rugby match at Athletic Park, and return before the end of the general debate, with no risk of a vote being called or our absence being noted. Whether it was a result of a leak or the obvious difficulty Mr Peters had with the notion of remaining inconspicuous, we returned to find a very angry chief whip, who instituted formal disciplinary proceedings and required us to sit through an hour of carefully choreographed speeches about loyalty, teamwork, and commitment at the following caucus.

The election of the Bolger Government in 1990, followed by the “mother of all Budgets”, seared some harsh political messages into our hides. Having been elected with 48 percent of the vote in 1990, fewer than 12 months later some polls were placing us as low as 19 percent. It was in this grim climate in October 1991 that I received an early morning call from the Prime Minister’s senior private secretary, who advised that the Prime Minister wanted to see me. Convinced that this was to be yet another of the disciplinary discussions that were then a regular feature of my parliamentary timetable, I not very politely declined.

Eventually the senior private secretary convinced me that it would be very much in my interests to get my useless carcass up to the Prime Minister’s office right now. So Jim Bolger informed me bluntly that he was making me the Minister of Customs but that would not make me very busy, and that he had decided, despite our political predicament, that he was going to win the next election, that I was going to help him, and that we would discuss it on a later occasion. We never did discuss it later, but I did find myself fairly quickly immersed in the political management machinery of the place, a role I came to play for many years.

I acquired a great respect for Jim Bolger. I developed an excellent working relationship with him and gained valuable experience in dealing with the intractable political challenges at the business end of the Government. In both Government and Opposition, right through until 2008, I was involved in one way or another under five leaders in the deeply unglamorous, even more unpopular, and extraordinarily difficult area of political management.

At about this period of my career, in which I am told I acquired the nickname “the Black Prince”, a good number of very colourful, mostly unflattering things, had been written and said by political opponents and media commentators alike, for which I am sure they are now all deeply remorseful. I take this opportunity today of thanking them all for their vigorous efforts to enhance my notoriety. They had made me appear very much more effective than I really had been and certainly much more interesting. It was during this period that I ran a weekly blog, McCully.co, which was widely read for its intellectual rigour and dispassionate analysis of important political affairs—an option for the future, perhaps, if nothing else works out.

In 2008 the decision was made by John Key, looking towards the election later that year, that I was to move seriously into the area of foreign policy. Members will recall that the right honourable, now knighted, former Prime Minister had a wonderful capacity for lofty Shakespearean prose. In early 2008, addressing me in such terms, he said: “My little friend, there is one portfolio where those guys can hand me my ass, and that’s foreign policy. I want you to make sure they don’t.” Ha, ha! Never before or since has the office of the Minister of Foreign Affairs been so graciously bestowed. Ha, ha!

I think most people who come into this place bring an ambition to at some stage play a serious role in a Government that they can be truly proud of. In that respect, I regard myself as among the truly fortunate. For 8 years I had the enormous privilege of serving as Minister of Foreign Affairs under New Zealand’s greatest Prime Minister of modern times and of serving as a member of what he called his “Kitchen Cabinet”.

As I have said on many occasions, in any Government the real foreign Minister is always the Prime Minister. Regardless of geographical location, time zone, or any other considerations, Prime Ministers and foreign Ministers must always be on the same page. To be otherwise is to confuse other Governments and international agencies and the vast bureaucracies they retain to analyse every word or nuance, not to mention to provide fodder for troublemaking political opponents and commentators. I am pleased to say that in 8 years there was not one occasion on which there was daylight between John Key and myself. But much more important was the fact that while former Prime Minister Key quickly demonstrated a complete mastery of international relations at the highest level, he also bestowed the huge level of trust and confidence in his foreign Minister that is critical to making that role effective in its own right.

These were an important 8 years for New Zealand’s role in the world. We managed, after 30 long years, to bring about a normalisation of New Zealand’s relationship with the United States while maintaining our nuclear-free legislation, and remaining outside of ANZUS. Our relationship with China was taken to a new level, with exports multiplying by 500 percent, requiring careful management of a dynamic and complex diplomatic relationship, as well as one or two private sector challenges along the way. We made major progress with other non-traditional relationships in ASEAN, Latin America, and the Gulf States. We managed to break through a longstanding blockage in the relationship with the European Union, and I am especially proud of the way in which we stepped up to deal with our role and responsibilities in the Pacific.

New Zealand’s campaign for election to the UN Security Council in 2014 was unlike any other diplomatic challenge. You see, foreign ministries from all nations have this wonderful capacity to record every meeting as a diplomatic success. But the problem with the UN Security Council election is that one day the numbers go up on a board in New York, and the numbers do not lie.

The fact that three quarters of the countries in the world voted for New Zealand on the first ballot, leaving heavyweights Spain and Turkey to fight out the subsequent ballots, says something that is both totally objective and massively positive about our standing in world affairs. I am extremely proud of the way that New Zealand conducted itself during our 2-year term on the Security Council. We were diligent, fair-minded, consistent, and prepared to call out poor conduct wherever we saw it, even from our friends. I take this opportunity to thank the many hard-working and talented foreign affairs staff who over 8½ years supported and collaborated with me in places all around the globe.

I also served for many years as Minister for Sport and Recreation, and more briefly as Minister for the America’s Cup in 1999 and Minister for the Rugby World Cup in 2011. The hosting of the America’s Cup in 1999 involved close collaboration with Sir Peter Blake and his team. Sir Peter’s habitual question “Will it make the boat go faster?” was the greatest possible lesson on focus and a question I was to ask myself many times subsequently, when trying to decide which fights were worth having.

The whingers and whiners were out in force before that event—New Zealanders were not going to be interested in a rich man’s sport, all the cafes and restaurants in the Viaduct Basin would go broke as soon as the event was over, and it was therefore a waste of public money, and so on. But, of course, New Zealanders embraced the event in droves. The hospitality sector in the Viaduct Basin seemed to be just keeping its head above water last time I checked, and, of course, the economic and profile benefits to New Zealand were huge. The same will be the case in 2021. It is my sincere hope that, rather than pandering to the whingers and whiners, both Auckland and central government authorities will recognise the huge opportunity that is coming our way and invest wisely and strategically in maximising the undoubted benefits.

The Rugby World Cup 2011 was as complex as it was huge. It was one of the great thrills of my time in politics to be given the opportunity to play a role in something so large that gave so much pleasure to so many New Zealanders and banked so much economic benefit along the way. It also gave me an opportunity to work alongside some highly talented and very committed New Zealanders, many of whom remain my close friends today. I hope those responsible are thinking carefully about our next bid to host this event, because surely we must.

There is one outstanding Rugby World Cup matter that I do want to touch on briefly. In the lead up to the event, I had occasion to host a dinner for all of the members of the International Rugby Board. Because they were official guests of the New Zealand Government, the Department of Internal Affairs was supposed to have arranged for payment of the account, but, for some reason best known to itself, had not. So to avoid any embarrassment at the end of the evening, the bill was quietly charged to my office credit card. Even though we were reimbursed the next day, the subsequent release of my credit card receipts containing five bottles of Ata Rangi pinot noir at $185 a bottle attracted an unhealthy and, it would be fair to say, universally negative interest from the nation’s media. To make matters significantly worse, for weeks afterwards, every time I attended a public occasion addressed by the then Prime Minister, he would draw attention to my presence and to my expensive taste in pinot noir.

It is a sad comment on the state of investigative journalism in this country that not one media outlet asked such blindingly obvious questions as: does the Minister for the Rugby World Cup drink pinot noir? Did the Prime Minister attend this dinner? Does the Prime Minister drink pinot noir? Now, I can no longer recall the answers to any of these questions, but I do recall clearly that I lamented the very poor state of our investigative media at the time.

Of course, I was to enjoy my own career as an international athlete while in Parliament as a founder member, with Trevor Mallard and Damien O’Connor of the Parliamentary Rugby Team.

💬 Hon Michael Woodhouse: Bill English.

And yes, the right honourable Prime Minister as well. Our first coach, John Hart, rode into his All Blacks coaching job on the strength of our success. His successor, Richie Guy, neatly summed up my prowess when planning one of our Parliamentary Rugby World Cup campaigns when he said: “We can win this competition if we use our speed and skill out in the backs. McCully, you are playing in the forwards.”

In 2009 we started to put in place some changes to both the structure and funding of High Performance Sport with the goal of making New Zealand, on a per capita basis, one of the top sporting nations in the world. Too many New Zealanders fail to understand the huge benefits our top athletes bring to our brand and profile in a country that produces and exports food. And by using our word-class athletes as role models we have a much greater chance of motivating our young people to play sport and live healthier lives. The decision to give High Performance Sport its own identity recognised that being world class requires a level of focus and resourcing that is different. We decided to focus resources at that level in the sports where we had a competitive advantage, creating a hothouse environment for our top athletes, coaches, and staff.

In both the 2012 and 2016 Olympics our targets were exceeded, but the real test comes in 2020 when the true benefits of this programme will flow through. Provided we stay on track, we will be able to look back on this as a critical formative period in our evolution as one of the world’s most successful Olympic nations.

When the Prime Minister farewelled me from Cabinet back in May with some uncharacteristically generous remarks, he said that, on his research, I had served for longer as a Minister in National Governments than anyone other than the late Sir Brian Talboys. I had never thought about that statistic, but I went away and checked, and I think the Prime Minister was probably correct.

With the indulgence of the House, I want to offer, therefore, one or two thoughts as I depart this institution.

💬 Hon Member: Oh, this’ll take a while.

Ha! First, some personal advice: always keep an open mind about people. When some financial whiz-kid who gets elected in your neighbouring electorate irritates the management and you are asked to take him out behind the woodshed for a chat, always leave room for the possibility he might end up being your boss for 8 years. Ha, ha! And when some overconfident young woman marches into your electorate office, interviews you, and then instructs you to hire her on the spot, before you tell her to get lost, always leave room for the possibility that she might end up being your Deputy Prime Minister. Ha, ha!

We hear a great deal about how technology is changing and will continue to change our lives, but we think too little about how New Zealand’s international interests have changed and will continue to change, and about the need to configure our institutions and polices so that they reflect our future interests, rather than our past. I grew up in a New Zealand that saw itself as an offshore farm for Great Britain. When the UK joined Europe, we thought we were the unluckiest people in the world, and senior Ministers lobbied for years to maintain access to the European markets that took the bulk of our goods.

Today we are one of the truly lucky countries, camped on the rim of the Asia-Pacific region that will be the powerhouse of world economic growth for as far ahead as we can see. Today our exports to China are roughly equal to our exports to Australia, which is traditionally our largest market. But in the next 5 or 6 years our trade with China will be 50 percent bigger than with any other country. And, like any sensible business that does not want to be too dependent upon one customer, we will be trying to balance that growth with new markets in Asia, the Gulf States, and Africa. We have been slow to adapt from a world where we can do business inside our comfort zone with people who speak the same language and have similar history, values, and systems of Government to one in which a substantial part of our business is with countries that do not. But the next decade or two will see an overwhelming proportion of our trade conducted with nations that are outside that traditional comfort zone.

The same is true in relation to our security and defence, where the simple alliance arrangements that defined our interests for most of the last century have given way to an independent foreign policy, a complex and evolving series of regional dialogues, and a backdrop of major shifts in international power structures. Yet statistics for the study of foreign languages in this country remain truly dismal, and even important foreign policy issues are denied media space by editors besotted with the eating habits of reality TV stars, their medical ailments, wardrobe malfunctions, and revolving love interests. Increasingly, the pursuit of this country’s economic and security interests will take us outside the comfort zone that history has bequeathed us, requiring a much greater investment of our time, our interests, and our skills.

Those who have worked with me will know that I am not a great fan of multilateral institutions, but we must persevere with bodies like the United Nations, not because they are good but because they will get a great deal worse if countries like New Zealand do not play their part. Good international rules and effective international institutions are important for countries like ours. The alternative is to live in a world where the big guys always win and the little guys always lose. But New Zealand needs to remain a forceful advocate for UN reform. Last year the international community spent US$16 billion on providing humanitarian support for victims of conflict and another US$9 billion on UN peacekeeping operations. The world’s capacity to create human misery through conflict now greatly exceeds its capacity to prevent or resolve it or its willingness to meet the growing humanitarian cost. That simply has to change.

I previously described our work in the Pacific, in my time as foreign Minister, as both the most challenging and satisfying part of the job. We are a small player in international affairs, but we are a large and important player in the Pacific, and we are making a difference. New Zealand leadership has been the key to bringing over $2 billion to projects that are shifting the region from its heavy dependence on fossil fuels for electricity to renewable energy, with huge environmental and economic benefits. Many islands that were 100 percent dependent on expensive diesel for electricity generation are now 100 percent powered by renewables.

In the fisheries sector we have made bold progress in helping the region move its largest economic asset, a $3 billion-a-year tuna fishery, towards sustainable management and towards achieving a significantly greater return for its owners. We are playing an important role in the growing success story that is the Pacific tourism industry, again creating sustainable economic benefits from the region’s natural resources. I greatly value the many friendships I have been fortunate to make around the Pacific, and my retirement plans include a continuing involvement in the region.

The great temptation in this institution is to simply go along for the ride, to spend 3 years getting elected for another 3 years. I came here 30 years ago to make a difference. This is a tough place, and I have spent the greater part of those 30 years at the tougher end of it. I have tried to get things done, and sometimes that has not made it easy for colleagues, friends, and family, but I could never really see the point in being here if I was not going to move the furniture around a bit. Thank you for putting up with me for so long. It has been a hell of a ride.

[Applause]

This is the hardest speech that I am ever going to make in this place, because I have been given a very stern warning from foreign affairs that I am now a diplomat and that I have got to not do any of the things that can cause trouble. When I told that to Sir John Key a few hours ago, he said: “Well, given you never listened to my advice like that for 10 years, why the bloody hell would you listen to them?”. But I am going to try to be diplomatic. I am going to try to make sure that instead of calling somebody a wanker, I will call them an owner-operator, because that is the diplomatic way to go these days. I do know that what I am about to say is irrelevant to most of you, because I was told by my dad once that no matter how great your greatest high or how deep your deepest low, there are over 1.6 billion Chinese people who could not give a toss. I think that puts everything into a true prospective.

In the next 20 minutes or so, I am going to wax lyrical about my 30 years in this place and how things have changed so dramatically, cover a few achievements—but not too many to bore you—canvass a couple of the highs, and sort of steer clear of a couple of the really deep lows that got really quite bad, make an apology or two, and, finally, pose that real question that I think we should all pose: did I make a difference?

So, first of all, a few tributes—and these are really important. I want to pay a tribute to my mum, Noreen, who is 95 years old, lives in her own house in Matamata, and will be watching this. She is a lady who just goes about her daily life, will not go into an institution, and is as sharp as a brain, and she calls me up and tells me that I am a completely useless sod when I do not agree with things she said. Mum, you have been amazing. I will be very careful to not to use something that my nephew used at his mother’s funeral—my sister’s funeral. He said: “Mum, you’re the greatest mum I’ve ever had.” I think I have got to be very, very careful not to fall into that trap.

My late father, Rex, served in the Battle of the River Plate, which is mentioned up on the wall over there, on the Achilles along with his brother. We grew up in Matamata on a farm, and they were great parents, and instilled they what I still think are completely, really top-notch values. That is all you can expect as to where you go from there.

To my wife, Raewyn—Raewyn up the back there—of 41 long-suffering years: I think the reason we have lasted 41 years is that I leave for Wellington every Tuesday and come back every Friday. She is really pleased to see me when I come home on Friday, and she is even more pleased to see me leaving on the Tuesday. So I think that is what has worked.

I have got three kids. They are all adopted, so they are lucky not to get the genes. They are really going to have a chance in life of being somebody. My son, Simon, right up in the front there, is an amazing guy. He is a wordsmith—I think he came second in the world in the Cambridge English exams—and he is absolutely worthwhile employing if you are looking for someone to be a wordsmith. He actually knows where a few dead bodies are buried as well.

Now, there are a couple of family members who are not here, so I am going to try to do something. You will know that I have always been famous for doing PowerPoints. They tell me that the parliamentary cameras can do this—the twins. I have twins, a boy and a girl. This picture is of Connor, my twin son. He is currently on a tennis scholarship to the University of South Carolina. He is simply, as you will hopefully see by this one, if we can flick it in, just an amazing tennis player. So, Connor, I am really proud of you as well.

My daughter Brittany is a make-up artist and thinks she is pretty cool, and she is—just amazing. There is one more photo clip, and then I will do my dogs. If I thought my kids were fantastic, have a look at these two dogs. They are Waffles and Pebbles. If I am ever grumpy or hungover in the morning when I wake up, that is what I wake up to look at.

OK, a couple of secretaries—I have been here for 30 years and I think I have got the record for this. I have had the same electorate secretary for the entire 30 years, Carla. Carla is up the back of the gallery—Carla Mikkelson; just amazing. I tell you what—30 years. I mean, you get less for murder, Carla. There have been times when I have arrived at the office and she has just stared at me and gone: “Oh my God! What have you done now?”. Another amazing secretary here in Parliament is Bridie Cooper, up there in the gallery. She was Bridie Wilkinson for most of her life, and got married a couple of years ago. Bridie has just been the—I have worked for her for 30 years. To have one secretary in Wellington and one secretary in Auckland for 30 years means I cannot be as big a bastard as I have been accused of being in the media from time to time.

There are a couple of friends here whom I want to pay tribute to. John Slater—where are you hiding? I saw you over there—no, John Slater is up in the gallery. John Slater is the past-president of the National Party. We used to go out canvassing together many, many years ago. One day we decided: “Let’s have a crack at taking over this party.” He got to be the president of the party and I got to be a front-bench Minister, so that was not too bad. Peter Martin, just up there behind the pole, is the electorate chairman in Pakuranga, and what an absolute stalwart he has been in the electorate for very many, many years.

I am reminded of how important it is to get name recognition in the electorate. Before I got elected the first time, I was working hard, because Labour was hellishly popular in 1987 and I was not sure I could win the seat. I did everything I could. A guy came to see me and said: “I need your help.” I put hours and hours of work into it, and I thought “I’ve got him. He’s going to be a voter for me.” And then he dropped a big envelope around at my house that night, and it was addressed to Mr William Morrison. If you know, Morrison was the actual member of Parliament at the time, and William Morrison was not going to cut it when he went to vote. To a couple of other close friends from Air New Zealand days—Ian Hambly, Alan Gaskin: you guys, we have had an amazing ride through life, and it has been fun.

There is a couple up here I want to point out—Ron and Jane Woodrow. These people are Wellingtonians who have provided a refuge that I could run to and hide when anything went wrong, and I think that was just about every week at one point. Jane would always cook the most amazing meals and Ron would always have the ideas about how to solve the world. Ron shares with me this amazing love of technology. When I used to come back from the States and tell Bill Birch about Bluetooth and Java and so on, I could just see it in his face: “I haven’t got a bloody clue what you’re talking about, and so what.” I was an advocate of the internet long before it even came here. I argued about how it would change our lives. We would live on it. We would shop on it. We would transact. And I am quite pleased about it.

We had Bill Gates out here and I did a few presentations while he was here. He was good enough to give me a copy of his book at the end, and written in the front of it he has got “To Maurice. You are my favourite power user. I hope the whole world learns from what you have done in New Zealand.”—signed “Bill.” So that is not too bad—to have Bill Gates’ signature on a book.

I had the first iPhone ever in New Zealand and I had the first iPad. I remember bringing it into the House one day, and I think Tariana Turia was more excited about it than anybody else. Others just dismissed it as another one of Williamson’s little fads. Well, you are all going to live on them now, and I tell you what—with 3-D printing and driverless cars and so on, you have no idea how your world is going to change.

What a difference that was from when we came. There was no internet. There were no computers. I went to Hong Kong and bought myself a PC. I brought it down, set it up in my office up on the 3rd floor, and Sir Robert Muldoon walked past my office, stopped, backed back, and looked in at me working. All I was doing was word processing, writing a letter. He goes: “Ah, how’s the mad scientist tonight then, eh? Ah, ha, ha!”.

Now I will say a few things about achievements because I think you should say them. I do not want to go on too much because—this is boring. Who cares? I was the longest-serving Minister for a whole range of portfolios. I think 15 years for the statistics portfolio, longest-serving communications Minister, certainly the longest-serving building and construction Minister, and a number of others. But that really does not matter if you did not do anything.

Well, right from the moment I got here I put a member’s bill in, and drove it hard, about increasing the penalties for cruelty to animals. I have always believed in what Mahatma Gandhi said, that the degree to which a nation can be judged as having developed is the way it treats its animals. I think anybody, anyone, who can be cruel to animals really has something seriously, seriously wrong with them.

After that I did a few things. I became a Minister, and I have got some things that I am pretty proud of. I set up Pharmac in 1993, trying to implement a really good way of buying drugs without the drug companies being able to game us. I think Pharmac is one of our greatest inventions. I hope it never ever gets taken away.

But I had a couple of failures along the way. We tried—really. Simon Upton’s view, and I went with it, was that we could charge people for the hotel part of their hospital stay. When they go to hospital they are not at home, so they are not eating meals and they are not in their bed and they are not using electricity. So we could at least bill them for that bit of it. I tell you, that was about as successful as Lord Mountbatten’s Irish holiday.

OK—moving right along. One of the things I am really proud of is I set up the Māori broadcasting funding agency. You will know it as Te Māngai Pāho, but I called it Te Reo Whakapuaki Irirangi. OK; cool. We set up 23 Māori radio stations. This is something no one knows, and my colleagues are going to hate me when I tell you this. I actually put on the board of that two people: I am going to tell you. One was Hone Harawira, because at that time he was a radio broadcaster and I thought he brought some value to it. The other was somebody for whom you will not forgive me, and that was Annette Sykes. I had to take her off the board only a couple of years later when she advocated blowing up dams and burning down forests. But that is just a little bit along the way.

I did things like deregulating the postal service and stopped New Zealand Post having a monopoly on carrying bloody letters. How stupid was that! But there are a few things I am really proud of. In this House in 1999 I got up and I actually tabled the Mahon report about the Erebus crash. I was at Air New Zealand. I was deeply involved in what went on. Justice Mahon got it right. It was so wrong to blame just the pilot. All of the systems failed that pilot, and to blame him alone was wrong. I was so proud to table that report, because it had never been tabled. Sir Robert had refused to have it tabled. It was tabled in this House and it is a formal view of what happened at Erebus. It was a systemic failure, not one error. And to go to lunch with Marguerite Mahon, the wife of Justice Mahon, and with Maria Collins, and to get photos out the front—just the most moving, stunning time of my life and I will never forget it.

I have had to make some pretty tough decisions. You know, I got attacked over the Crafar farms sale to Shanghai Pengxin. But the law was quite clear that if they met the criteria, they met the criteria. Prime Minister John Key came to me one day and said: “We’ve got to do something about fixing the weathertight homes.” I said: “Well, it’s not our problem.” He said: “I know.” I said: “If I go and see Bill English he will say there’s no money.” He said: “I know, but we’ve got to do it.” And we did, and we put a package together, and thousands of people have been able to get their house fixed, from that package.

Then there was SmartGate and Customs. I know there are some Customs people—the previous comptroller, the current comptroller, and others—in the audience today. Martyn Dunne was a stunning Comptroller of Customs and Carolyn Tremain as his replacement is also. You are not allowed to have favourites, but Customs was by far my favourite. We have implemented technology, which means we process people in about 18 seconds flat, through the border, and it was what I think was really worthwhile.

I will talk now about the Maritime Transport Bill. Trevor Mallard would probably be one of the few—no, sorry, Ruth will remember it. We went night after night, for week after week, under urgency, until 3 in the morning, voting on Plimsoll lines, on toy ships, and so on. But it was such a touchstone bill. Helen Clark said it was the most pernicious, evil, disgraceful legislation this House had ever seen, and if Labour ever got elected, it would be the first to go. I am proud to say that after 9 years, not one clause of that bill got changed—not one clause of it. It allowed our ships to ply the coast and do well. I remember bringing things like geospatial into the whole Public Service, to make sure the Public Service did not think that data should just be in tabular form any more, and that actually having maps of where this occurred and how it occurred was better.

Probably my greatest success, I think, in getting something done—but it was hated beyond your wildest belief—was bringing in the photo driver’s licence. I thank very much Harry Duynhoven, who I think was here earlier—he might have gone off for drinks now. He and about eight other Labour members crossed the floor to give me the numbers on it, because we had some of ours who were not prepared to vote.

I tell you, Leighton Smith waged war against me daily—this was evil, this was Big Brother, this was the start of the identity card. My wife, Raewyn, used to say to me: “Why don’t you just give it up? I can’t get in the car without hearing them tearing you to shreds.” Well, we did it. It had the biggest drop in our road toll ever and I have never heard it raised again. That is what you have to do around this place. If it is right, you do it, you stand your ground, and, at the end of it, if it was right it will be proved to be right, and I am really pleased.

Finally, just quickly, one thing that I did not expect to be of any great moment was the gay marriage speech. It went to 59 countries, was translated into 19 languages—and a quick update; I got the Parliamentary Library to tell me. Since it was passed we have had 1,500 same-sex couple marriages out of 100,000 marriages during that time—so about 1.5 percent. So the world has not come to an end, and we have not had the gay onslaught wipe the rest of us heterosexuals out as was claimed. To those people who sent me some of the nasty—some of the emails were great: “I hope you die of AIDS, you bastard.” That was one of the nicer ones. Well, I have had a check-up before I head to the States and there is still no sign of HIV/AIDS at this point, so I am all right. I also checked my birth certificate and my parents were actually married on the day I was born—so not so much of a bastard.

OK, a few regrets—yes, there are a few regrets, and I am going to do only one, or two, or five, or whatever. The one I think is the biggest regret ever is I never, ever was able to persuade my ministerial colleagues that we really should get rid of commercial television. I seriously, seriously do not know why the Government owns a commercial television station. Oh, I know—it is so it can promote New Zealand culture and identity. So I had a look at the programme schedule: Masterchef Australia followed by Mrs Brown’s Boys, Emmerdale this afternoon, Coronation Street tonight, Instant Gardener, which I do not know, but it is a British programme of some sort, followed by Four in a Bed—you will be able to tell me more about that, Murray. You can tell me about it later. And there is The Chase and Tipping Point—both British. How the hell is that promoting New Zealand culture, for goodness’ sake! And its value when I tried—I pleaded with Jim Bolger about it. Its value back then was about four times what it is now and it is now four times what it will be, because nobody, nobody, is going to watch free-to-air ordinary TV in the future. They are going to watch it via what I think is my greatest little backroom success—and I am pleased that Sir John Key is here.

I went to John Key in 2006 after having worked very, very closely with Ron Woodrow. I mentioned Ron before—he was a bastion; I could go and hide—but the guy was so forward-thinking in technology. He rolled out CityLink, which was the big fibre-optic loop in the CBD here in Wellington. He did it himself with his own money and then sold it. He was always on about how fibre was the future. I remember talking to John and he said: “Oh, you know, the budgets are tight and I don’t think you’d get it through.” So I went to some of the policy meetings and I do not think Bill was pretty keen on it either.

Every time I went it was just struggle, struggle, trying to take fibre to the premises. It was unheard of; even the Australians were only going to go for fibre to the Cabinet. It was just the old Russian water drip—Chinese torture. I tried to get some people from the private sector involved. One who I thought would be involved just said it was a nonsense, that it would not happen, and “You’re dreaming.”—and now he actually is a board member of Crown Fibre Holdings, so that is quite interesting. But in the end I think John Key—and I think he might admit it—and Bill English finally just gave in to get me to shut up. We finally put together the ultra-fast broadband package to roll out fibre, and I think it is the greatest enabler, the greatest economic enabler, that this country will have.

On to elements of pride—there was one thing I was really proud of; I thought this was amazing. When Helen Clark was inducted into the Order of New Zealand, I was the Minister she requested attend in Auckland, and I did—at Government House—and I was really proud to be there. But I had to sort of offer up an apology at the time, and I will make sure I get it on record now, because we had sparred a lot before. Once in the House many years ago when I was transport Minister we were proposing building State Highway 20—not a tunnel, but State Highway 20; a road—through Waterview. Helen got up in the House and said that that would happen over her dead body and my retort was “That would be a small price to pay for a good road.”

I also tried to get some really smart-alec little cuts against the other side, and Trevor Mallard, I am sure, will remember this day. Labour was really polling very poorly—I think it was about mid-1994, 1993. I think the poll came up with Labour on 16 percent. We sat at our, what used to be, procedures and thought “How do we get a question to a Minister to actually get that 16?”, because, as Mr Peters will know, you cannot ask questions unless they are actually of a ministerial responsibility.

💬 Hon Members: Ha, ha!

I know he does, but you cannot. OK, I thought: “I know what to do.” So I said it to the team and we put it up to procedures. So the question was to me as Minister of Broadcasting: “Has he had any complaints recently about the screening on Television One last week of The Sound of Music?”. I could see that Labour and the Opposition were going: “What the hell is this one?” as they worked through the question. “What are they getting at here?”, and they were stumped, absolutely stumped. So when we got to the House—I have got it all on video if you want to see it; it is cool. So I got the question: “Has he had any complaints about it?” and I said: “Mr Speaker, I actually have. I had a phone call from an irate Labour Party supporter who complained about the movie The Sound of Music, in particular the song ‘I am Sixteen Going On Seventeen’ ”. The supplementary was even better: “Did the irate phone caller have any other songs they were upset about?”. I said: “Indeed, Mr Speaker, there were two more songs: ‘High on the Hill I’m a Lonely Goatherd’ and ‘Farewell, Adieu to You and You and You’ ”.

So I just want to finish up by saying it is time to move. In fact, I should have gone a while ago; I can see that. I am a dinosaur and I accept it. In fact there was a really good little story Bridie sent to me out of the funny file. She said I attended a primary school in my electorate many years ago and the kids all wrote a lovely letter, as they do—you know: “It was great for you to come and I really enjoyed your speech.” One of the boys wrote—a little kid, only 5 or 6: “You reminded me of my favourite subject, dinosaurs.” I thought “Wow!”. Why I think I am now a dinosaur is I am completely out of tune with where I think modern thinking is—on both sides, on all sides; I am out of it.

I grew up in a farmhouse in Matamata that had scrim that moved on the walls and a potbelly stove and in winter it was bloody freezing. I am not trying to make out we were poorly off; everyone whom I lived around had it—that was what we lived in. Yet I hear today: “It is my right to a warm, dry, insulated home.” No, it is not. Actually, every right you have you have got to earn, and this idea that “I should have it, no matter what.” in my view, is wrong. We did not even have single glazing. Some of the windows did not close properly, so we just had nice draughts of air coming through.

Similarly with regards to—and I know this will get Sue Moroney really upset, but it is the same thing to do with family and child support stuff for the babies when they are being born. Raewyn and I spent quite some time working out, before we started a family, how we would financially do it before she gave up working at Air New Zealand. The idea that someone would ever pay for us to do that just does not swing for me. I am not trying to upset you; because it is upsetting them as well. It is just that—I am from the past, I should be back in the primeval swamp, and that is where I am going.

I do really lament—and I was so hoping I would have at least one target but they are not there, the journalist fraternity. When I came here journalists were on about substance, they were on about why the Government had done something, they would hold you to account for spending, etc. Now it is just unbelievable. Twenty-one years ago, almost to the day, in this House, David Lange gave a great speech, as he was leaving—his valedictory. He said: “I can’t stand it anymore. I’m getting out before where the journalist fraternity is going in this world gets to me.” He said this: “I picked up a magazine at Auckland Airport yesterday and it said ‘Candidate fights life-threatening addiction’.” You can check this in Hansard if you do not believe it. “ ‘Candidate fights life-threatening addiction’ ” said David. He said: “I was very intrigued with that, and when I opened it up it said that Pam Corkery was quitting smoking.” I will try to do the voice: “Good heavens!” said David. “What next? Next week we’ll be seeing ‘How I licked athlete’s foot’ by Pam Corkery”.

I simply agree with him. When TV3 drops Campbell Live but brings on some Scout programme about Rachel Glucina and the gossip columnist, I feel I lost the plot here. Something has gone wrong. Vaughan Jones, the top New Zealand mathematician, who has got a Fields Medal, gets no mention even though he is the top man in the world, but we now know about Kim Kardashian almost nightly and her $50 million arse—I think his name is Kanye.

So the test I have always applied is: “Will New Zealanders be better off?”. I will not go through a couple of the little stories here, but I have to say some of them were amazing. I had a guy in St Heliers who had an alien spaceship crash through his roof. He wanted me to come and help but he had donned a helmet and had slippers on. He had put a trampoline over the house so that the neighbours would not know it, and the alien was locked in the bathroom but was eating the cellulose from the wallpaper—“Please help if you can, Mr Williamson.” and, as you will be aware, I probably did not do much about that.

So that is it for me. I want to finish with a lovely quote from Edmund Burke, the British politician who said: “Your representative owes you not his industry only but his judgment and he betrays you instead of serving you if he sacrifices it to your opinion.” So I have always held a North Star. I have always held the North Star, which is something to guide you by—for navigation: what is right, what is wrong, what matters, what does not, and putting that test on things. For me, it is about freedom of the individual, it is about rewarding individual effort, it is about that libertarian view: “As long as you are at the age of consent and you are not causing damage to any other person, then I believe you’ve got a right to do it.” So I voted on the liberal side of everything. God knows, back in the 1980s, the attacks we came under for allowing the shops to open on a weekend. Jim Knox said: “It’s the most evil thing and it’ll be the end of families, and if you open the shops on a Saturday, you know it won’t be long before they’re open on a Sunday as well.” And he was dead right. He was a visionary, that Jim Knox.

But I am very strongly free market, I am a very strongly right-wing, and when it comes to the welfare State, I am a fan of it being a hand up but not a handout. I am a fan of it being a safety net and not a trampoline. So my North Star is probably the exact 180-degree reverse of what Metiria Turei believes in terms of what is right and wrong with the welfare State.

But it is time to go. I am off to sunny California. I have got songs in my head; I have got the chord patterning to the Eagles’ “Hotel California”: “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave”. Well, I am leaving. I tell you, I am leaving and I am looking so forward to it. It has been a great ride, there have been a lot of ups and downs, we have had a wonderful time, and I have had some wonderful people to share the journey. Thank you so much.

[Applause]

Sitting suspended from 6.02 p.m. to 7.30 p.m.