Address in Reply

Madam Speaker, I would like to begin, as is customary in this debate, by congratulating you on your election as a presiding officer of this House, along with your colleagues. We look forward to a productive three years with very fair rulings from the Chair. But congratulations.

I would also like to take this time to acknowledge all of the new members of Parliament who have come to this House in 2020. Being elected to represent your community is a huge honour, and the sense that I’ve got from all the new members of Parliament that I have met is how seriously they do take this responsibility. So I wish all of those members of Parliament well. I would especially like to acknowledge the 23 new Labour members of Parliament that we had elected at the 2020 election. I think it’s fair to say this is a phenomenal group of people, and as I have had the joy of listening to the maiden speeches, I have been filled with the sense that this is a group of people that have a sense of purpose, an understanding of why they have come to this House, and what it is that they want to achieve.

It’s fair to say that 2020 has been the most unusual of years, and I think, as we look forward to its end, it is worth us as New Zealanders reflecting on what a fortunate position we are in as we look around the globe, as we look in communities that are facing a Christmas that is not going to have the liberties that we have here in Aotearoa New Zealand. That was the result of the collective efforts of all New Zealanders, and I think that is something, as we approach the end of the year, that we should all truly celebrate: the way in which New Zealanders rallied as a group of people, as communities, to protect each other and to ensure that we could all stay safe. This was, of course, an election that occurred in the context of this. I think what we’ve seen, as the result that was returned showed, is that New Zealanders voted for stability and certainty at this election, at a time of uncertainty around the globe.

I think that the Address in Reply debate can often seem a strange debate. It is a debate when stump speeches seem to be dusted off again after a few months or a few weeks since the election campaign, but they can be a time to reflect on what it is that the House can achieve over the coming three years. We know on this side of the House that with our result comes a huge responsibility. We know that we are in the middle of a global pandemic and New Zealanders have put their trust in us. We know that overseas, the health and economic outlooks continue to worsen. Here in New Zealand, our Government’s commitment is to remain focused on keeping New Zealanders safe while minimising the ongoing economic impacts that the virus has wreaked on communities all over the world.

We campaigned and were elected on a five-point plan for economic recovery that will help New Zealand bounce back, and what we can never lose sight of is the opportunities that lie in front of us to build back better. I think the debate that we’ve just had over the climate emergency puts into perspective what we can achieve, what we collectively can achieve, and the opportunities that have been given to us to ensure that out of 2020 we emerge with a renewed vigour around addressing one of the greatest threats to our planet, and that is human-induced climate change, something that we have to have a commitment to addressing. It means that we do have to look to these long-term challenges.

So, while as a Government we’ve got to have the plans in place to ensure in the short term New Zealanders can pay their mortgages, they can pay their rent, they can put food on the table, it is our responsibility as a Government to make sure we are never taking our eye off those long-term challenges that confront us as a country, off the challenge of climate change, how it is that we decarbonise our economy and our society, how it is that we address these problems that are decades in the making, such as housing affordability, and what we need to address these questions. Let’s be honest: these are not issues or problems that are easy; they are complex and they are difficult and they cannot be solved overnight, but we laid the foundations for change in our first term, and we are heading in the right direction. We have a programme of work that will build on this and will never take our eye off those long-term challenges that are confronting us. But, most of all, we will be a Government for all New Zealanders.

If we think about those challenges that lie ahead of us—to keep New Zealanders safe from COVID-19, to accelerate our economic recovery, and to lay those foundations for a better future—we can see that we have an exciting three years ahead of us, a truly ambitious programme of work that we can all collectively band together and get excited about. When we think about how it is that we continue to keep each other safe as we exist as a group of islands at the bottom of the South Pacific, in a world that is being ravaged by a virus, we need to stay ever vigilant. We are committed to that elimination strategy. Although there were questions about it when we started out at the beginning, in our hearts we knew that our best economic response was always going to be the best health response. This is what happens when you put people at the centre of your decision making. [Coughs] Can I get water? This is what happens when you make sure that, actually, you are caring for your people. So that is the approach that we will continue to do. We will be flexible. We will continue to learn. We will continue to take the opportunities—[Drinks water] for a sip of water—to retain and to continuously improve our multiple lines of defence against the virus.

The first line of defence as an island nation has to be our border, and we will continue to strengthen this, to have robust protections in place, such as testing, infection control measures, and supporting quality staffing. On that, I would like to offer my sincere thanks to the many thousands of people who are staffing our borders. This is not easy work. This is hard work. It is under a scrutiny that many of these often minimum wage workers did not know they were entering into. I think 2020 has been a year when as a country we’ve come to reflect on how much we do rely on some of those workers that we pay the least: our supermarket workers, our cleaners, those that make sure that we are kept safe. So I hope that is something that we can take from this most unusual of years.

But we must also accelerate the recovery, and what we have seen and what all the economic indicators are showing is that nothing is as bad as those initial forecasts were harrowingly showing us they could be, that we have put people, we have put jobs, we have put jobs, and we have put jobs at the centre of everything that we have done. We were not prepared to have a stand-off approach, to put our hands in the air and say, “What will be will be.” What we were prepared to do was make sure that we were looking out for our people and that we were investing in our long-term problems, we were investing in infrastructure, we were investing so we could keep New Zealanders in work.

We are proud of the results that we have achieved, and we are looking forward to continuing that ethos in how we govern for the next three years. That is the trust that has been put in us by the election result. This is the trust that we will repay to all New Zealanders. This is the job and the challenge and the opportunity and the responsibility that lies ahead of us, and one that we take seriously.

Mr Deputy Speaker, can I firstly, sir, congratulate you on your election to this august office. We in the National Party are looking forward to working with you. This Government has a big mandate—the biggest mandate any Government has ever obtained under MMP. It was once said by Sir Geoffrey Palmer that it would, basically, be impossible for a Government to ever govern alone under MMP. In fact, the system was specifically designed to stop that happening, but yet here we are. The Labour Party has 64—it will be 65 once Phil Twyford is sworn in—seats, and we find ourselves here in the National Party in Opposition with significantly reduced numbers. And we take that message on board seriously. We do. Because the voters in a democracy are always right. By definition, they are always correct, and when the voters send a party from 56 seats after the 2017 election to 33, you have to respect that result, and you have to take it on board and listen to what the voters are saying.

So we respect the mandate of the Government. We respect their big mandate. We respect the fact they have 65 seats, and we respect the fact that they’ve added to that with the Green Party, but with a big mandate comes a big responsibility. New Zealanders are not going to accept the politics of excuses that we saw for the last three years. They are not going to accept blaming National for the nine years, and the long nine years, and all the tired rhetoric about that. They are not going to accept the fact that National was in Government and did or didn’t do a good enough job. They are going to expect the Labour Party to lead. They are not going to accept blaming Winston Peters, because Winston’s gone. He’s not in Parliament any more, and the Labour Party will not be able to blame New Zealand First for not being able to get through all of the progressive policy they want. They have the numbers. They have the Greens there, if they really want to blame really dumb stuff on them, but they have the numbers and the mandate. So we will expect, as a Parliament, action on the things that the Government says it cares about: housing, child poverty, climate change. They’re the things that New Zealanders care about, too. No more excuses.

The most remarkable thing about the Speech from the Throne was its timidity—its vaulting lack of ambition. It’s almost as if the Government has decided it’s all too hard. Let me compare the Speech from the Throne in 2017 to 2020. In 2017, the Prime Minister talked about an ambitious programme: “In our society today, no one should have to live in a car or on the street. No one should have to beg for their next meal. … That kind of inequality is degrading to us all.” And then the kicker: “This will be a government of transformation. It will lift up those who have been forgotten or neglected … This will be a government of aspiration.” Fine words.

What happened in 2020? We need to “do more and go further”. We need to “pursue progress”. We need to “lay the foundations for a better future”. This is all about stability and certainty. It’s like a speech written by committee, which I suspect it was—written by bureaucrats, and not particularly good ones, rather than the Prime Minister seeking to lead. A vaulting lack of ambition—no mention of “ambition”, in 2020’s version of the speech. No mention of “aspiration”. The only time “transformation” is mentioned is in the context of these Orwellian industry transformation plans that the Government is going to impose on industries—as if the Government’s always had a great idea about how to transform an industry to higher productivity and higher growth.

And why has the Government dialled down the rhetoric? Why have they gone from “transformation” to needing to “do more and go further”? It’s because, well, the rhetoric was fine and the intention was good; in the first three years, the results were terrible right down the line. One hundred thousand homes—they don’t even talk about it any more. KiwiBuild was not even mentioned in the Speech from the Throne. It’s not even talked about any more, because we know it was a disaster. Sixteen thousand were meant to be done in the first term. In Lower Hutt, they promised 400; they didn’t do a single one. One billion trees—not mentioned, again, in the Speech from the Throne—36 million done in the first three years. Light rail was a complete joke: meant to have been rolled out by 2021, finished—complete—from Mount Roskill to the CBD. They do not even have a business case by the end of 2020. No consents, no plan, no funding, no costings—nothing. Not even a completed draft business case. And poor old Michael Wood, the new Minister of Transport, has inherited a complete lemon from Phil Twyford.

Child poverty—the reason the Prime Minister came into Parliament, she says—material hardship got worse from 2016-17 to 2018-19. Fees-free gave a lot of money away to kids in tertiary education, but the numbers went down rather than up. When they first got in, the target was to raise the number of students receiving tertiary education, and then the numbers went down. So what did they do? They changed the targets. Instead, the target was literally, “We will measure success by how much money is spent, rather than how many kids actually get into tertiary education.” What an indicative sign of the Government’s priorities. The Prime Minister says child poverty is why she’s in politics. That’s why she’s here: to eradicate child poverty. And what was the first thing, the first multibillion-dollar spending commitment of the last Government? Not child poverty. Not the hard social reforms to end the enduring misery of kids who grow up in appalling State houses, in appalling misery. Not any investment into that. Not using data and analytics and the best minds that we developed in National in Government—not that. The first investment was to pay kids from Remuera free money to go to Auckland University and get a law degree for free. The most regressive policy the Government could come up with: that was what they did.

And so we are going to expect more over the next three years. So we welcome the departure of New Zealand First from this Parliament, and the Government is going to have to dial up the rhetoric and they’re going to have to do something about the enduring social problems facing this country. Housing is going to be a major centrepiece of the next three years. We’ve already seen the numbers on the social housing waiting list—20,000—and I think it is appalling that we live in a country where kids grow up in motels. We saw Nicola Willis question the public housing Minister, the Minister of Housing, on it today.

💬 Hon Poto Williams: I think National started that.

Yeah, yeah—absolutely, absolutely. Absolutely. It’s wrong that kids grow up in motels, and it’s wrong the Government pays for people to live in motels, but what I want to know is: what is the Government doing about it that will make things better? Because I’ll tell you what, extending the brightline test from five years to 10 years will do nothing to eradicate the social housing waiting list. It will do nothing about lowering rents. In fact, it will raise rents. It will send more people into social housing. It will make it harder for people to get on the housing ladder.

What will make a difference? Things that the Government has put in the too-hard basket. Things like smashing the Auckland Rural Urban Boundary, which the Government said they’d do, in 2017 in the Speech from the Throne, and never did. Well, now you’ve got the opportunity to do it. Things like strengthening the National Policy Statement on Urban Development, which was a good thing the Government did, but it comes in too late to grow for density. Bring it forward further. It comes into effect in 2024; start it in 2021 or 2022. Things like working with Kāinga Ora to allow capital for community housing providers, and actually funding housing infrastructure, both on the edges of our cities and inside our inner cities as well. There’s a lot of things the Government has put in the too-hard basket that they could do.

So we will be holding them to account on housing, we will be holding them to account on child poverty, and we’ll be holding them to account on education, because the interesting thing about education in this country is we’ve doubled expenditure on education in the last 10 or 12 years and our Programme for International Student Assessment scores have gotten worse. So we are going to be challenging, in the National Party, some of the long-term issues facing this country over the next three years, and the question for this Parliament is: is this Government, with its big mandate, its big progressive majority, up for that challenge?

Tēnā koe e te Mana o te Whare, and can I add my congratulations to those already expressed to you on your elevation to Deputy Speaker. I am enormously proud of having been part of the presiding officers’ team and working alongside you, and now I see that you are going to conduct your role with great mana and integrity. I look forward to being in this House when you are presiding.

I had the privilege and honour this morning of spending some time with the family of Constable Matthew Hunt, and today I want to spend part of my time just acknowledging those who have passed—particularly those who have passed in the line of duty—and Matthew Hunt was one of those. His mother and sister came today to present a petition to ask Parliament to examine our laws and our penalties when someone loses their life in the line of service. That’s appropriate, and I know that the select committee process will be robust around that. So I want to acknowledge that and him and his service—a fine man, who served the New Zealand Police service and our country really well.

But I also, at the same time, want to acknowledge that there is another group of people who are feeling some mamae at the time, and that is those people who were impacted by the effects of the impacts of March 15, and the fact that the royal commission of inquiry into the mosque attacks is due out shortly. I send my aroha to the Muslim community and also to the people of Christchurch and to the people of Aotearoa who were impacted on March 15, and what may be re-triggered with them when the commission of inquiry comes out. So I send my love and say that we know that there will be some questions to be answered in that document and that I, for one, am putting my support to ensuring that we address the concerns that those families and those people have.

I want to couch that, too, in a bit of a story. I remember March 15 very clearly because Speaker Mallard came to Christchurch and we happened to be in Linwood, at Linwood school, on the morning of the attacks of March 15, about 150 metres away from the Linwood Islamic Centre. We finished at about 12.30, and Jan Logie and I actually went to the Square in Christchurch to attend the School Strike 4 Climate—thousands of children marching through Christchurch, singing, protesting, shouting their commitment to a better world for themselves. It’s very strange to me in my mind that the two events conflate, but I think there is something in that: that the huge tragedy that we experienced on March 15 also signalled the huge tragedy that could occur later if we don’t do something about stopping the warming of our planet.

I tell this story as a person from the Pacific who has a heritage homeland under threat, and our young people will not sit by and allow us not to do something about it. Now, this is one of the key planks of the work that this Government wants to do, because we know that this stuff takes time and that, if we don’t start now by making bold commitments, we will not live up to the expectations of our young people.

I look across the House at our fabulous class of 2020—both sides of the House. I want to congratulate you all on a fine campaign and passage into this place, because you will carry the work of some of us who will move on from this place at some time in the future—you will carry that forward. So remember: this stuff takes a little bit of time, you know, but unless you keep your foot on the pedal and unless you keep going with this, momentum stops.

To my colleagues from the class of 2020, don’t worry about them, OK? [Gestures across Chamber] Our mahi is to keep positive, to live the values of our work and our party, and to keep moving forward, OK? Ka pai. We can do that, right? Right.

💬 Hon Member: We’re always here for you, though.

And if there are other friends who want to join that journey, that’s really cool, too.

There’s so much work to do. The Speech from the Throne gave us a couple of really clear steers. COVID-19 response—and I have to congratulate what our Prime Minister and our Government did. I am so proud to be a New Zealander. I am so happy to live here. I’m a little bit sad for my Australian kin, who can’t come home easily, but I am so happy at our response. We have pursued elimination and, so far, we’ve been pretty darned successful. I think about the Saturday afternoons that I enjoy, going down to the local parks and watching the kids play sport—you know, where else are they doing that around the world? I think about the international sport that we’re going to be hosting over the summer. Where else can that happen?

Now, our COVID response has been great, but we have an opportunity now in our recovery plans to build back better, and we are going to do that, because we’ve got a massive programme of infrastructure that is going to fix the hospitals, build classrooms in schools, it’s going to support infrastructure for transport, and it’s going to create jobs. It’s going to create so many jobs, we actually have to plan for training people to take up those opportunities.

Now, I think that’s fantastic. I think it’s fantastic that we’re looking at training people in trades. We have doubled the numbers of people in apprenticeships, and 16 percent, I think the number was that was quoted—16 percent of those are women. So that, for me, signals our thinking has changed. We are planning for the future. We are planning to ensure that we’ve got great facilities. We’ve got jobs, and jobs for those people who could be the most impacted by all of this—Māori, Pacific, and women—and I’m enormously proud of that.

I just want to mention one particular project, because all politics is local. One particular project got off the ground because of our support for local infrastructure and shovel-ready projects, and that is the money that went into support the nine projects in New Brighton, a little corridor of community projects that run down the New Brighton beach. Two surf clubs, a bridge club, a community centre, a tennis club, a multipurpose sports arena, a butterfly garden—all part of the shovel-ready projects. They came together as a collective of people, they created local jobs, they created interest and vibrancy, and they built our community there in Christchurch, and I’m really proud to have been a little, little, small part of that.

You know, I want to come back to where I started this speech, on that support for those who have lost their lives. I just want to say that what I’m enormously proud of is the fact that this Government has decided to make a ministry for those who are impacted by family and sexual violence, and I’m so proud that the Hon Marama Davidson has been the first Minister of that ministry. We are now taking the issue of family harm so seriously, we are committing to it by putting the resources of the joint venture—all of the justice sector Ministers—and heading that with an enormously capable woman, who will lead a great ministry and, hopefully, will really come to address the issue that impacts our community most, which is family harm. So I’m enormously proud, and I will be wholeheartedly supporting that work.

I am so proud to be part of this Government. I’m so proud to support our new members and our class of ‘17. We’ve still got some stellar stars in that class of ’17 coming through, too. But thank you very much, Mr Speaker. I look forward to the maiden addresses coming later in this debate. Thank you.

Thank you, Mr Speaker. It’s a great privilege to rise and speak for the first time in the 53rd Parliament, and I acknowledge you for becoming Deputy Speaker, and for all those new and returning for the great privilege that it is to serve this great country.

Well, there’s a fair amount of water that has gone under the bridge since the last time I stood up in this House—for this country, for this Parliament, for me personally. Certainly, my own personal challenges have been well traversed, and I do not intend to go through that in any detail this afternoon, but I do want to put on record some personal acknowledgments. To those colleagues on both sides of the House that reached out with personal messages of support and care, can I thank you for your compassion, because it had a huge impact on myself, my wife, and my family and reminded us as a family that there is something that unites us all in this House, regardless of political view, and that is care for each other. I just want to acknowledge that here today.

To those thousands of New Zealanders who emailed me and messaged me and text me and many, many of them who have come and given me a hug and I don’t know them from Adam, can I thank you for your concern and your care and your willingness to have the confidence to share with me some of your own journeys. Some of the letters have been incredibly moving and profound. In fact, to be honest, a lot of them started with “Dear Todd, I’m never going to vote for you. I don’t like your colour”—your team’s colour—“but, you know, I admire some of the things that you have said.” That has had, like I say, a huge impact. I just want to acknowledge those who are listening, be you a farmer or whatever your circumstances are. Be assured that in me you will have someone who will attempt to give voice to some of the challenges that you are living to ensure that this Parliament as a whole commits the appropriate resources and care to ensure that there is an environment that says it is OK to put your hand up if you’re struggling personally.

I have a great privilege of representing the community of the Bay of Plenty, who gave me great support in this last election and expect me to be an advocate for them in this House, to, as my colleague Chris Bishop said in his superb speech earlier, keep the feet to the fire of this Government in terms of their commitments.

Already this Government has failed on many aspects of their promises to our community, because if you look at the Speech from the Throne from the lens of a community that I represent, when this Government talks about $42 billion in infrastructure and at the very same time delays again the Tauranga Northern Link despite the fact that the previous Government had it out to contract, and now it is not going to be started until the end of next year; when you talk to the community of Tauranga about housing when the very housing development at the bottom of the Kaimais has been constrained yet again because State Highway 29 isn’t even in their long-term plan for investment; when you talk to the school principals, yet again there is a Government that is giving true meaning to hollow words. The empathy, the way intent is emoted, is world class; the delivery falls very, very well short, and it is my intent, to the very best of my ability, to be able to hold this Government to account to ensure that the people of the Bay of Plenty actually get the support they deserve for a city of 150,000. Wellington, it’s time to wake up: Tauranga is not the sleepy little city that it used to be. It has 150,000 people, and it deserves some recognition and investment from this Government as opposed to warm words.

Mr Speaker, it’s nice to see you in the Chair, and can I also acknowledge you personally for your support of me over the last few months.

To conclude, because I understand I have to stop at about 4.30 to let the newbies have a go, I do want to say a few words about trade. There have been few times since 1972, when the UK left us in the lurch, that trade has been as front and centre and so critical to our collective prospects as it is today. As an export-dependent nation, we sit astride enormous potential and enormous peril. We have deeply held New Zealand values, we have deeply valued trading relationships, and we have deeply entwined personal, cultural, and familial ties. They are and will be greatly tested in the months and years ahead. We must be seen as a country and a Parliament that can navigate such issues and tensions with humility, consideration, and deftness.

It is within this context—and I see my opposite, the Minister for Trade and Export Growth, sitting opposite me—that if ever there is an issue that calls for the best of us and bipartisanship in its most comprehensive form, in my view it is trade, and it is trade today. We need to work together for the interests of this country, and bipartisanship goes both ways; so I offer to the Minister a willingness to work with him through these issues, because they are significant and missteps are easy. The impact on this country, our export relationships, and our ability for our communities, be they large or small, to be successful in the 2020s depend on us navigating these very rough seas well. I firmly believe that, if we do that with a considered and collective voice, we can do that better, but the ball is in the Minister’s court. I offer it in good faith, but I would hope to see that reflected back in a genuine sense. I found, when that was offered in the context of climate change in the last term with the Hon James Shaw, that the level of engagement was at a level, from my perspective, that was both surprising and, I think we would say with all fairness, quite constructive.

The National Party, as Chris Bishop, I think, so superbly said earlier, acknowledges the fact that you won and we lost, and we will reflect deeply and are reflecting deeply on what that means for this party and our views and how we articulate what we think is best for this country over the next 10 years. For those of you who have been—and I’ve seen it happen—unable to resist the pot shots of success, be assured that every one smarts, every one we receive hits, but you are up against your traditional foe. We are the National Party, and we will return, because we will bring—[Interruption] And the mocking starts, but just—

💬 Hon Aupito William Sio: Welcome back, Todd.

—be assured, Mr Sio—and you’ve been a great amplification of that humour—every single laugh hits, every single one smarts, every single one makes us redouble our effort to ensure that the people who believe in centre-right values have the party they expect in Parliament and the party they expect in Government come 2023. Everything we do—everything we do—over the next three years will be with those people in mind, the people in rural New Zealand, in urban New Zealand, who, fundamentally, expect a National Government to give voice to their aspirations, to their families’ aspirations. They expect the best of us, and be assured the National Party will bring it over the next three years. Thank you very much.

I call Angela Roberts to make her maiden statement.

Tēnā koe, Mr Speaker. Ehara taku toa takitahi, engari taku toa i te toa takitini.

[Mine is not the strength of one, but of the many.]

These were the words with which Hēnare Hūtana, the Post Primary Teachers Association’s kaumātua, sent me to this House. He told me that I do not stand as an individual; I stand here representing the people. So why do I stand? And what gives me the courage to take this stand? As a teacher of the arts for more than 20 years, I’m reminded every day that it is our artists, whether they be playwrights, songwriters, painters, carvers, or dancers, who have always been the ones to hold up a mirror to our society. They bring us joy; they bring us tears. They expose us to our own ugly underbelly, and they bring us hope. They give a voice to the voiceless. They send us away with another perspective.

But it isn’t the artists who can change the world; only we the people can. Ru Mundy, one of Aotearoa’s finest young protest writers, brings the voice of a future generation to us in a song full of sadness and regret. When thinking back on “Love in the Time of Coral Reefs”, she asks, “Do you remember when we still had time, if not to reverse things … at least not to cause worse things, and we decided not to, it was easier not to.” These confronting words that came from a future full of so much loss. Coral reefs, permafrost, polar bears, the land, our Island nations, equality, and affordable housing brought me to tears. And no, Ru, I haven’t got the T-shirt yet. And she brought me some action. It is for our children and their future that I stand.

I was born beside the Wairau, but I’ve been lucky enough to spend much of my life in Taranaki. It is beautiful, a deeply spiritual, exciting, and tranquil place to be. The story of my little settlement is typical of many. While it’s always been a place of bounty, colonial settlement and land confiscation have left their scars. It was once a thriving township with a school, a pub, a dairy factory, a saddlery, and even a train station. Over the years, we’ve seen valiant entrepreneurs come and go: butchery, furniture maker, sports store, petrol station, and cafes. I remember the shock of going for a run late last year and seeing the local community hall being put on to the back of a truck. Along with it, the clubrooms for the disbanded cricket club, and a few months ago the reality of COVID-19 saw the local cafe closed for good.

Austerity hits our rural communities hard. When cuts are made, often decisions are based on economies of scale, on bang for buck, and the impact can be brutal. Ambulance services, police stations, tertiary education, the postie, mental health, maternity and primary healthcare services, public transport, banks, decent connectivity, and pothole-free roads—the list goes on. Austerity to rural communities means death by a thousand cuts. Rebuilding our rural infrastructure has started, but we must do more to ensure access to quality healthcare and education, modern infrastructure, decent jobs, and healthy homes.

Our nation thrives when our farming communities are flourishing. It is for our rural communities that I stand. My understanding of the challenge of achieving climate justice is intensely local. As I’ve said, I’ve spent much of my life in Taranaki and, as an economics teacher, a member of a rural community that has until now thrived because of the energy and dairy industries, clearly appreciate how hard it will be to find a consensus around how we reset our economy and build a sustainable future.

Our farmers are doing amazing things, taking real action to strengthen our biodiversity and restore our river catchments and build sustainable practices across the food and fibre sector. Their contributions to projects such as Taranaki Taku Tūranga - Towards Predator-Free Taranaki are immeasurable, although you could argue that the 10,000th trap to hit the ground this week is a pretty good measure. We need to embrace and support the approach of the Taranaki 2050 Roadmap, the first attempt at building consensus and taking real action on sustainable development and decarbonisation, so we do not just survive but thrive. The rest of the nation would do well to follow this lead if we have any hope of reaching our sustainable development goals. It is for those who are striving for climate justice that I stand.

During lockdown, while most of our team of 5 million were doing their bit and staying home, the lights in my neighbours’ milking sheds still flicked on at 5 every morning. The shelves continued to be restocked overnight in our supermarkets, and for more than eight months we have had a huge committed team of workers at our borders and in managed isolation, in incredibly trying circumstances, to keep us all safe. Our students, despite the challenges presented by studying in isolation and sometimes, like the rangatahi in my community, without any reliable connectivity, carried on with their mahi for all of our futures. It is for those who give their all for the team of 5 million so that we in New Zealand have the best chance on the planet to build back better that I stand.

So what gives me the courage to take this stand? I’ve spent most of my teaching career focusing on two subjects that I’m really passionate about: drama and economics. While some might suggest that this is an odd combination of skill sets, it could quite possibly be one that suits me well in this House. Economics has had a bad rap; not surprising when you are clear about what capitalism has done to our planet. In my economics classroom, I have been liberated by my students as they challenged the assumption that our Curriculum brings to their desks—that the market is the natural place to start, even when we are looking at the way to resolve the immense challenges that our society faces, such as climate change, inequality, and housing affordability.

Our young people are fabulous. They are ambitious for us, curious, and really happy to challenge the status quo. Why not look at something other than capitalism? Why not try a different approach? They aren’t bound by precedent or ideology, and they’re enthused by different world views and fresh ideas. They’re inspired by doughnut and circular economics, socialism, and Te Ao Māori. They are confident that there are ways to make decisions about how we use our resources more wisely, that enable humanity and our planet to flourish. We need to be brave and take a fresh approach to how we view our economy, so that Papatūānuku and humanity are at the heart of our decision making. It is my students and the progressive thinkers who are fighting for climate justice and social justice that give me courage.

Not only do we need progressive economics but also a return to a progressive education system. Our curricula—Te Marautanga o Aotearoa, Te Whāriki, and the New Zealand Curriculum—are the envy of the world, progressive and wide ranging, but in recent years teachers were constrained by the narrow drive for literacy and numeracy standards, and this meant there was little space for knowledge or creativity, for science, the arts, or New Zealand history—all the things that inspire our students to learn and grow. But there is hope. Again, it is helpful to look to artists for guidance. In 1946, Clarence Beeby, the Director-General of Education, under Fraser’s Labour Government, appointed Gordon Tovey to try to establish the intellectual respectability of the “frills” of education. Tovey delivered not only arts and crafts to our tamariki but also firmly embedded ngā toi and enabled students to gain an appreciation of art from both a Māori and Pākehā perspective. He ensured that Māori carvers and painters became an integral part of our public education system. By the mid-1960s, despite controversy, he ensured that New Zealand students and teachers were aware of and participating in their bicultural heritage for the first time.

Not only do we need to find space in the Curriculum for the building of a wide range of knowledge but also to improve the support for our teachers and schools to build their capabilities in te reo and tikanga Māori. Teachers have overwhelmingly expressed their desire to learn te reo, honour the diversity of identity in our schools, and to truly meet our obligations to Te Tiriti and tangata whenua. They are ambitious for their students. There has been a commitment to supporting this critical mahi, but just like with the implementation of a stronger New Zealand history curriculum, the reforms of NCEA and the greater focus on supporting our most vulnerable learners, the current heroic model isn’t sustainable. Better resourcing is needed. It is those wonderful kaiako who give their all for our students who give me courage.

I love the union movement, and especially my former union, the Post Primary Teachers’ Association Te Wehengarua. I was privileged enough to serve on the PPTA’s national executive for over 17 years, including four as president. Those years taught me how productive a process of robust, intelligent, democratic debate can be, that a worker’s voice and Te Ao Māori are integral to both problem solving and innovation, especially when courage and imagination are required. My comrades give me courage.

I need to acknowledge what might well be the smallest and mightiest campaign team in New Zealand history. My first question to Mel Dorian, our Labour Electorate Committee chair, when I called her a few short months ago, was “How can I help? Can I deliver some pamphlets or something?” Well, I hope you’re OK with what that something turned out to be, Mel! It’s amazing what can be achieved when you bring together a farmer, a student, and a unionist. Paul, Ben, and Mel organised and grew a movement across Taranaki-King Country, a place where it was always assumed that there wasn’t one to be built. It was so exciting to be talking to people inspired, like I was, by our Prime Minister’s leadership, who felt safe and hopeful. I am humbled and grateful that New Zealand voted for a Labour Government with such confidence—so much confidence that a teacher, a unionist from rural Taranaki can be the first-ever 65th member of a Labour caucus, in this 53rd Parliament. It is my party and my community—those who are so ambitious for our future—who give me courage.

My family has taught me so much about the value of hard work. My mum, Jenny Roberts, taught me what a truly good employer looks like. She always treated her people with dignity. They were never seen as a cost but always as an investment. She spent decades not just training apprentices in their craft but supporting them as they grew into adults with patience and kindness. She had the vision and fortitude to fight to retain and strengthen an apprenticeship system when the national structures were collapsing. My dad taught me that some of the most impactful work that we can do is outside of the workplace, in our community. There are generations of cricketers—good cricketers—who have been fortunate enough to have Barry Roberts’ patient hand guide their batting and talk them through the intricacies of that beautiful game. My brother, Greg, a man of the land, reminds me daily of the value of loyalty and perseverance in our work.

I was born into a family of workers, but I married into a family of unionists. My in-laws, Bev and Dan Anglesey, were not people to just sit back and complain about the state of the world. When they saw rights being trampled on, if they saw injustice, they spoke up, stepped in, and took action. Pick your battle—Springbok Tour, Clancy Action Group, or the TET share distribution. Dan was a union delegate for the boning floor at the Waitara Freezing Works before my husband was born, and was president of the local Labour Party. Politics was always the topic of conversation at Dan’s table. I had the great privilege of spending many hours on Sundays, after one of Bev’s amazing roasts, talking to him about politics, unionism, and being reassured that we are right not to become cynical, to keep up that good fight.

I need to acknowledge my husband and our children. Ian is my rock, but he also makes sure I don’t forget to laugh—usually at myself. And as for James and Sarah, when you meet them, you are filled with hope for our future. They are smart, they have huge hearts, they are impatient for true social and climate justice, and they fill our house with music. Thank you for bringing me such joy every day. It is my family that gives me courage.

I started with an artist to help me to explain my reasons for taking a stand; so I think it only appropriate I look to another one for my final dose of courage—Billy Bragg, a songwriter who has inspired so many of us with stories of hope, where the power of organised workers clearly enables progress to be made for all of us. To be in a union means much more than that; it includes our efforts to collaborate, to listen to and truly understand each other. It is a collective approach—community, iwi, farmer, youth, employer, and worker. Achieving a sustainable, timely, just, and equitable transition of our lives and rebuilding our economy is the most important work to be done for our nation, our children, and our planet. So to Billy for the last word: there is power in the factory, power in the land, power in the hand of the worker, but it all amounts to nothing if together we don’t stand. There is power in a union. Kia kaha, kia māia, kia manawanui, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa.

[Applause]

Ahumairangi maunga, mihi mai, karanga mai, tātou ngā māngai o te motu. Ngā kaitiaki o ngā tika tangata, Te Āti Awa tangata, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tātou katoa.

[Ahumairangi mountain, greet us, welcome us, the representatives from throughout the country. To the protectors of human rights, the tribe of Te Āti Awa, greetings, greetings, greetings to one and all.]

Vanakkam. My congratulations, Mr Speaker, on your reappointment. I want to acknowledge your guidance through the induction, and I look forward to your guidance this term.

There’s a moment just as you wake. It doesn’t happen every morning, but on those mornings when something significant has changed in your life, there’s an inch of time after waking, when you take a breath before the cloak of your new identity washes back. It was there the morning after the election, with warp speed - like force, and left me awash with gratitude for the trust placed in me as the first Labour Party member to hold the Upper Harbour seat. I can’t claim the privilege of being the first MP of Sri Lankan descent. Thanks to the speedy work of the Parliamentary Library, I quickly discovered that that privilege belongs to the Hon Annette King. However, I am the first Sri Lankan - born member of New Zealand’s Parliament, and I’m incredibly humbled to be joining a values-based, not to mention enormous, Labour caucus. I’m also proud to serve under the leadership of the Rt Hon Jacinda Ardern, or, as my kids call our extraordinary Prime Minister, “your work friend”. She’s someone I deeply respect and admire.

That experience of the inch of time and the rush of a new cloak of identity have become markers for my memory. I felt the rush waking up as a six-year-old in an apartment at the crest of The Terrace, connecting with the fact that I was now not only a Sri Lankan but also a New Zealander, my family having arrived in 1987. I felt the rush waking up the morning after my mother told me Richard de Zoysa’s story. Richard was my father’s second-cousin, a journalist in Sri Lanka, killed in 1990 as a result of his courageous criticism of the then Government. The cloak that morning arrived like a wave of outrage. Surely people weren’t being tortured and killed by their own Government, and if they were, the cloak demanded I do something about it. It was a story and a feeling that began a 27-year journey in human rights advocacy for me. There is still so much to be done for human rights protection in many countries around the world because “Maṉita urmaikaḷ aṉaivarukkum sontmāṉatu”, “Mānava himikam siyallanṭama ayat”, which means, in both Tamil and then Sinhala, “Human rights belong to all”.

The rush of the cloak was there when I first nervously woke up as a qualified lawyer. It was there the morning after my father, Jana Rajanayagam, had several strokes and heart attacks, after being the finance manager of the Upper Hutt City Council and then the North Shore City Council. In an instant, he was physically unable to work and, thankfully, received Government support through those tough times. I remember when I woke several years later, the morning after he died. The cloak didn’t rush back that morning but arrived in slow motion, with a new kind of inescapable weight. The inch of time and the rush of a new identity was there the morning I woke up, after two hours of intermittent sleep, and looked at the most miraculous thing—our first baby, and then our second, and then our third. The cloak on those mornings carried vibrant new colours. I never could have imagined that inch of time and the rush of the cloak as a marker of the human experience we all share.

I look around at the diversity in this Parliament, which will serve us so well this term, but, oh, as well as our beautiful differences, we share so many remarkable similarities in human experience. During my time in community law with Amnesty International and at the Human Rights Commission, I’ve had the privilege of hearing many people’s stories. I often think about their mornings—what it might feel like to wake and take on the cloak of parenting and advocating for a child with special needs or to wake and connect with the prison walls around you. In recent days, I thought about what it’s like for those who wake and reconnect with their health status, with their immigration status, with their employment status. We might not be able to relate to the weight of all the cloaks others wear, but that we can relate to that feeling from the inch of time to the rush of the cloak—it’s our door to connection, conversation, understanding, and respect. In this House especially, we have an obligation to consider deeply the impact of everything we stitch to, or fail to stitch to, the cloaks that New Zealanders wear.

There is another experience we all share, and it’s something described well through a conversation two of our boys had in the backseat of the car. We had just come home from a concert and the conversation went a bit like this. Elliott: “Did you feel it?” Luka: “Feel what?” Elliott: “The electricity.” What they were discussing was that feeling you get when you hear that special piece of music or you’re watching that movie and the storyline and music rise to catch your heart. We’ve all felt it; some of us get to feel it often. I’ve felt it marching with women’s rights activists in Nepal and Manila, watching a mum catch her breath with pride as her daughter speaks quietly but with conviction about being discriminated against during a mediation. The electricity didn’t seem to stop when I stepped on board the majestic Rainbow Warrior II for an interview as a climate campaigner. It was there, buzzing through a pile of hundreds of letters that sat on the floor of a hotel lobby in Mexico, saved by a former prisoner of conscience, sent by strangers to win him his freedom, and they had. It was there with unhelpful giddiness when I walked in to sit my final exams at Auckland University and then at Oxford.

The electricity danced across the room in Johannesburg as young human rights activists talked, cried, and shared visions of hope about the future of human rights. It was there, embodying possibility, listening to stories about my great-grandmother Naysum Saravanamuttu, the second woman to be elected to the State Council of Ceylon in 1931. This is a feeling we should all have, in the work we do and in the relationships we hold. This is the great ambition for all New Zealanders: not only to ensure that we look out for each other when times are tough, and we must, but to support and connect people with the things that will bring that electricity. Young people should know that, as we address the challenges of the coming years, there is a place for their hearts as well as their heads and their hands in the future of employment.

When I was a young person, I went to hear Dame Cath Tizard speak at a women’s rights conference. She talked about visiting a primary school where a five-year-old boy put up his hand and asked, “When you were young like us, did you want to be Governor-General?” She replied “No” and asked him: “Why? Do you want to be Governor-General when you grow up?” To which the little boy spat out, “No. I’m not a girl.” While Dame Cath was New Zealand’s first female Governor-General, to this little boy she was the only one he’d known. The story has always reminded me that not only can great change happen in one generation but, time and time again, it does, and there is much that still needs to be done.

We have an obligation to continue to address racism and discrimination. Where voices aren’t represented at decision-making tables, we have an obligation to shake the tables. We must not only hear the loud and organised but fiercely listen for piercing silences and work to bring the marginalised and disempowered from the periphery to the centre. We have an obligation to protect all human rights, including economic, social, and cultural rights, and, because rights are meaningless without the ability to access them, we have a connected obligation to ensure sound access to advocacy and to the courts. We have an obligation to do more, and then more again, to address climate change. We have an obligation, as we turn the corner towards the 200-year anniversary of the signing of Te Tiriti, to fulfil its articles. We have an obligation to examine the edges of policy and law, where education impacts justice, where justice impacts employment, and where employment impacts health, and to design bridging policy solutions that recognise lives aren’t lived in select committee silos; they’re just lived. This is how we really disrupt the churn of poverty.

For a month at the start of 2017, I went to work barefoot. I had heels in my bag, just in case I had to explain why the general manager of YouthLaw Aotearoa hadn’t bothered to construct an entire work outfit, but, other than that, I went barefoot. The intention to connect more meaningfully with where I was and the bare foot worked. I thought more carefully about the land, the building, the community, and I noticed things on walks I never otherwise would have taken. I say this to perhaps warn the wonderful people of Upper Harbour that you may see me doing the same over the coming years. Don’t worry—there’s a method to what might seem a bit of madness.

Upper Harbour, what a huge privilege to have your trust. I intend to be a strong voice for you on the things that matter, including transport, community safety, housing, employment, and supporting our small and medium sized businesses.

To Rhys, my husband, I suspect there aren’t enough thankyous for all that’s to come. I’ve learnt and loved so much because of you—the way you slow your pace to keep company with the slowest walker; the way you sit in silence considering a question with care before you respond; and for all you are to our family, including the dad jokes, the music, the calm sea. To our boys, Elliott, Luka, and Sacha, for the electricity and brightly coloured cloaks you’ve brought to our lives, thank you. To my family and friends, thank you, but especially to Amiy, my mum, Prithiva Ferne Rajanayagam, for the visible support and for all the invisible support that makes standing here possible.

My deepest thanks to Claire, Jesse, and Antonia for nurturing the seed of an idea. To our Upper Harbour team, especially to Andy Hopkins—where are you?—Jan, Dev, Lise, Chris, Ros, Brad, to Leata, Meresereisa, Leilua, Mark, Marion, Craig, Jade, Vivian, Robyn, Noy, Shane, Brooke, and Brendan, thank you. To Sir Bob Harvey, Chris Carter, and Lal Senaratne, my thanks for your mentoring and your belief in me and the campaign. I want to make special mention of my early mentors: Lecretia Seales, whose keen intellect was matched by her courage; Margie Taylor; Ced Simpson; and Pakiasothy Saravanamuttu, all of whom have had a significant impact on the decisions I’ve made in my journeying. To the Parliamentary Service staff and all who work in these buildings, who play such a critical role in our democracy, this work we do is only possible because of your hard work here and, I suspect, often your good humour.

Finally, to my parliamentary colleagues from all walks of political thought, I suspect there’ll be times when we glance across the room and connect unexpectedly on a value that brings all of us to this place. We have a collective obligation to nurture that. While the reality of politics is our corners and a three-year term—at least for now—the truth of sustainable and significant change requires that we hold on to those moments of connection and construct some political scaffolding around the values and ideas we all need to take root and to grow for Aotearoa. Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tātou katoa.

[Applause]

Kei ngā mana, kei ngā reo, tātou e noho tahi nei, tēnā tātou katoa. Te Āti Awa me Toa Rangatira, tēnei au ka mihi, tēnā kōrua. Tihē mauri ora.

[To the leaders, to the spokespeople, to those of us here today, greetings. Te Āti Awa and Toa Rangatira, greetings to you both. Greetings to all.]

Mr Speaker, firstly, I wish to acknowledge and congratulate you on your election to the office you now hold. I look forward to the guidance and support that you will provide to me as a new member of this esteemed House. I also wish to acknowledge Rangitāne, my local iwi in my electorate, and specifically greet kaumātua Wiremu and Trieste Te Awe who are in the gallery this evening, ngā mihi nui, ki a korua. I am humbled to rise as the new member for Palmerston North, a city that I am very proud to call my home. I want to thank the constituents of Palmy for putting their trust in me to represent them for at least the next three years.

It’s fair to say that at the start of this year, it was not my expectation that I would be a member of Parliament. My campaign run was much shorter than others, and I must apologise to my parliamentary colleagues in that I joined the campaign much later in the piece. But I wish to acknowledge their hard work and I congratulate them on their election as members of this House. My arrival here is due in no small part to a fantastically well-organised party campaign under the leadership of our Labour leader and Prime Minister, the Rt Hon Jacinda Ardern, and at a local level due to the sterling efforts of my Palmerston North - based team, many of whom are in the gallery tonight. Candidates are often never easy to manage, but particularly when you inherit a new one less than eight weeks before the scheduled general election. So to my campaign manager, Lorna Johnson, and the wider team, my gratitude and thanks to you all for making it a flawless transition and for the electoral success that the team delivered.

It is particularly special that tonight I get to deliver my maiden statement alongside other new members of Labour’s Pasifika caucus. So to Barb, Neru, and Terisa, faamalo fa‘afetai lava. And of course, my entry to Parliament has doubled Labour’s Cook Island caucus. So to my Kuki Airani colleague, the Hon Poto Williams, kia orana. I also wish to acknowledge my Palmerston North colleague Teanau Tuiono on his successful election as the Green Party’s first Pasifika member.

Convention seems to dictate that I acknowledge the work of my predecessors, and I certainly wish to do that. Over the last 40 years, there have been four MPs for Palmerston North, the Hon Joe Walding, the Hon Trevor de Cleene, the Hon Steve Maharey, and the Hon Iain Lees-Galloway, all from the New Zealand Labour Party. Prior to their entry to Parliament, they all had a history of service to the electorate and a prerequisite that seems to have stood them in good stead for their connection to the local community, and certainly a characteristic that I wish to continue. I want to acknowledge their collective service to the constituents of the city over that time. In particular, I wish to acknowledge one predecessor who is present here today, and that’s the Hon Steve Maharey. Steve’s 1999 campaign was my first, so he is partially responsible for my involvement in politics. I am deeply honoured that his footsteps—but with my footprints—are ones that I wish to follow, even if it is some time since he left this House.

Like many others, my life has been shaped by my upbringing and my experiences, which are undoubtedly informed by the generations that come before us. In 1962, my 20-year-old Cook Island grandmother, Vaevae Williams-Hewett, left her village of Nikaupara, in Aitutaki, and at that time she also left her 19-month-old son, my father, with her parents. On 14 May 1962, she took this ticket to the Port of Rarotonga; there she boarded the SS Monterey to set sail for New Zealand in search of a better future for those to follow. In addition to this ticket, she also took with her the hopes, dreams, and aspirations of her family. She arrived in this country, worked hard by cooking and cleaning at the hospital, and every week she would put some money aside to send back to her family in the islands. That was her routine. That was her cultural sacrifice.

Some years later, when my father was eight, he travelled to New Zealand with his grandfather to join his parents. My father arrived and attended primary school in New Zealand, where he spoke little to no English. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, he was punished. This meant his first interaction with the New Zealand education system was deeply alienating, something that he was not keen to develop or explore further. Instead, he was keen to get out of school as soon as he could, and he did. He left school with no formal qualifications, but with a lot of experience.

I’m the eldest of four children, so as the first-born, Cook Island custom dictated that my grandparents gifted me my name. My mother actually wanted to call me Joshua, but instead my paternal grandparents named me Tangi. Throughout school I hated my name, as I always had to explain why someone would want to name their child “grief” or “funeral” rather than the Cook Island Māori translation of—wait for it—“beautiful”. Now, I have come a long way since then and now consider it an honour to carry the name that has been gifted to me. My parents, Sue and Akaari, from a very early age taught my siblings and I the significance of working hard, to never judge a book by its cover, and to value the importance of family.

My mother demonstrates a passion for a sense of community and of supporting those who are more vulnerable than others, particular traits that she inherited from my late grandfather, Ted Thorner. My father demonstrates the trait of integrity. He taught me by his own actions that integrity is something you feel and experience rather than something you specifically define and see, that you do what you say you will do, and that you will treat others as you wish to be treated. These are particular traits that I hope to exemplify as I go about my duties as a member of this House. My parents also knew that education was too important to ignore, so they encouraged their children to be more engaged with education and to do well, something that my siblings and I will for ever be very grateful to them for. So thank you, Mum and Dad.

My introduction to the Labour Party is similar to that of many others. Twenty-five years ago, my Uncle Tai Williams-Hewett took me along to what was my first Labour Party event, at the Terrace End School hall, as part of Steve’s and former MP Jill White’s campaign. I remember the inevitable Labour Party raffle at the door, I remember my first Labour Electorate Committee meeting, and I remember how inclusive the party was to this teenage boy, and that was the start of my involvement with the party. The principles and values that attracted me to join our party more than 20 years ago are the same important ones that underpin the Labour Party today, those of equal access and opportunity, fairness, social justice, inclusiveness, and kindness.

I started my professional career in education as a secondary school teacher of history and social science at Freyberg High School. My relationship with Freyberg has come full circle. I started there as a student, then as a teacher, and finally as a trustee on the school board. In one particular year, my siblings Rachel, Luke, and I occupied the roles of parent, student, and staff trustee respectively, so my family is aware of the value of local communities being involved in the governance of local schools. Freyberg taught me much, and it’s special to have many of my Freyberg connections in the gallery tonight. My early years were also where I established lifelong friendships. My longest friendship stems from form 1 at Ross Intermediate, so to Stacey and your partner Karl, thank you for being here tonight. To Sheree, Caleb, Tanya, and your partners, my thanks for the ongoing support and encouragement you have shown to me over the years. These are the values, observations, experiences, and the people that have guided me on my journey to New Zealand’s House of Representatives.

Justices of the peace (JPs) provide an incredible level of service. In my electorate, the local association has had a focus on attracting younger candidates and those who are representative of a more modern demographic. While successful, there is still much more work to be done. Of course, members play an important role in the JP process and can assist by continuing to nominate candidates who are reflective of their local communities. Through my role as a judicial justice of the peace, I have presided over bail and remand hearings for more than 10 years, and as a visiting justice over internal prison disciplinary hearings for nearly five. My judicial experience has also expanded to include New Zealand’s racing industry, an industry worth at least $1.6 billion annually to New Zealand’s economy, where for more than 10 years I’ve sat on race day and non - race day hearing panels for the Judicial Control Authority (JCA). The JCA is an incredibly slick and professional operation on a relatively shoestring budget and has given me the opportunity to work alongside hard-working colleagues on race courses such as Wairoa, Waterlea, Waverley, and Winton.

It’s through some of these roles and experiences that I’ve seen just how inflexible the criminal justice system can be, particularly for our Māori, Pasifika, and new migrant communities. An ability to access the system is important, but so too is the ability to be an active participant in proceedings, to be aware of what is happening, and to understand the process and the options available to those involved. Prior to my election to Parliament, I was looking forward to taking up a commissioner role with the newly established Te Kāhui Tātari Ture, the Criminal Cases Review Commission. The loss of one’s freedom and liberty is one of the most—if not the most—severe consequences that the State can impose, so there must be a sense of independence, integrity, and fairness in the system. But those judicial tenets of independence, integrity, and fairness must not purely exist; they must also be evident and active in the very police, court, and wider criminal justice processes that New Zealand has in place. The commission, while still in its infancy, is a potential safeguard within the jurisdiction, and I look forward to seeing it over the next few years.

My experience over the last 10 years as a city councillor and then a deputy mayor has been about public service and connections within my community, and I acknowledge council colleagues here today. While my tenure in that role has now concluded, I remain an advocate for the local council’s mantra of Palmerston North being a place with small-city benefits and big-city ambition. The ability to overturn a local council’s decision to introduce Māori wards is an unfortunate provision in local government legislation, and I look forward to the Government looking at options for its removal.

The local government sector faces many challenges. Amongst them is the ability of councils to meet the infrastructure needs of their community within a very tight fiscal envelope. I believe it is the role of the State to actively work in partnership with local government and other providers who have the best interests of the community at heart, but I also believe that enterprise has an ethical and social conscience to think about where it can actively play a part in meeting the infrastructure needs of its local community. However, these partnerships cannot be at any cost to, or at the expense of, local community wellbeing.

We have all lived and we are still living through the most extraordinary period of our collective lives. COVID has tested every agency. In spite of this, Palmerston North’s strengths continue to lie in education and training, logistics and distribution, along with our historical defence connections. Its reputation for innovation, science, and technology marks it as a leader in research and development. It is a city that has a diversified private sector, supported by a strong agribusiness and primary food - producing region, along with a solid public sector. It is a city that is rich in cultural diversity, a welcoming community with more than 130 different ethnicities who choose to call Palmy home. It simply is a wonderful place to represent, and I look forward to advocating for my constituents and for my electorate as a member of the Labour caucus and in Government. I’m excited by the desire for this Government to be one for all New Zealanders, and I am committed to working across the Parliament to achieve that.

Before I conclude, I want to acknowledge the person who is on this journey with me, my partner Te Rei. Te Rei, thank you for your love, for your support, and your unfiltered feedback and encouragement as we embark upon these next steps together.

In conclusion, I look forward to the challenges and I look forward to the journey, but more importantly, I look forward to working as part of a team to ensure that this Parliament is one that realises the opportunities, the dreams, and the aspirations that tīpuna like my grandmother had for those that wish to call Aotearoa New Zealand their home. Nō reira, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, kia orana koutou katoatoa.

[Applause]

Waiata

Thank you, Mr Speaker. E ngā mana, e ngā reo, e ngā iwi, e ngā rau rangatira mā, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa. E ngā tāngata whenua, karanga mai, karanga mai, karanga mai. He mihi mahana ki a koutou. E Te Tiriti o Waitangi, nāu te tīmatanga o te Kāwanatanga, mihi mai, mihi mai, mihi mai. Nō reira, tēnā koutou katoa.

[To the leaders, to the spokespeople, to the tribes, to the distinguished ones, greetings one and all. To the tribes of this land, welcome. My warm greetings to you also. To the Treaty of Waitangi, you began our Government, thank you and greetings to those of us here today.]

Faafetai i le Atua i lona faatasi mai, ma faamanuia mai ia te aʻu ma loʻu aiga, paʻaga ma uo. Ou te talitonu i le Atua e fesoasoani mai ma faatasi mai o aʻu tonu e fai, alofa ma fesoasoani mai. My grandparents Bill and Kitty Watters arrived from Glasgow on the Captain Hobson in 1956 with £60 in their pocket, two weans, and the promise of a job. My mum, Sia Watters, née Chong-nee, left Samoa in 1975 to live with her sister here in Aotearoa with the hope of a better life. I am a proud daughter and granddaughter of immigrants.

I come from a Labour Party, union, and service-to-community strong whānau. My dad is a past vice-president of the Service Workers Union and could often be found at the end of a picket line or campaigning for the Labour Party. My mum would often spend her evenings sewing clothes from factory offcuts and deliver these to those in our community that needed it. Mum even managed to make little stuffed toys, which she would take to Birthright, as well as more clothes for babies. Both of my parents reinforced to my two brothers, William and Kieran Watters, and I the importance of having a voice, standing up for your rights, and service to community. Regardless of the colour of your skin, your gender, your age, who you love, how much money you may or may not have, and your level of education, in our household, we knew we had a voice, that it was valid, and we were worthy too.

As a mixed-race Pasifika Scotswoman, I don’t fit neatly into the Pālagi world or the Scottish world. I first noticed this when I was about age nine. The kids at school used to call me “Bounty Bar”—which happens to be one of my favourite chocolates, by the way. They said it was because I was brown on the outside and white on the inside. At college I was encouraged to look only at gateway career options rather than pursue an academic pathway. Despite these challenges, I learnt to walk in both worlds. I have found, for the most part, it is about educating others about what it means to be a proudly indigenous Pacific and Scottish wahine warrior, and never to justify it.

💬 Anahila Kanongata’a-Suisuiki: Kia ora.

Thank you, Anahila.

As you can see from my upbringing, there is a natural alignment with my personal values and those of the Labour Party, who I am humbled and honoured to represent as the member of the Ōtaki electorate. The Labour Party supports diversity, ensures the rights of workers, and wants all New Zealanders to live their best lives, as do I.

Working at Work and Income as a case manager during COVID lockdown, a kuia told me how grateful she was not to have to sit in the cold with a blanket wrapped around her, and she could now run the heating in her house and know she can afford to pay her power bill at the end of the month, thanks to the introduction of the winter energy payments. I also had a young mum tell me how the increase of $25 to her household meant a packet of nappies, two 2-litre bottles of milk, and she could now put $9 on her son’s uniform account.

Out in our electorate, I have business owners and their employees tell me how grateful they were to be able to access the employment wage subsidy scheme. Without it, they said, their businesses wouldn’t have survived. Furthermore, their businesses were thriving with people spending money locally in their shops.

I am humbled to be part of this first majority Government to be elected under MMP and I believe it is the result and a lot of this is down to the leadership of our Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern—thank you. I am also grateful that we are able to change history, and now, for the first time ever, a Pasifika woman has been elected to the Ōtaki electorate as part of the biggest intake of Pasifika MPs, doubling last term’s numbers.

When I say thank you to the people of Ōtaki, thank you does not truly show how grateful I am. They voted for diversity, kindness, compassion, and a better Aotearoa for everybody. I will work hard in our electorate and I will pursue the election promises I made during the campaign. I will seek better access to health services, transportation, continue to support our commitment to the four-lane highway in Levin, and add value where I can to reducing poverty and inequalities.

Being born and raised in Levin, with a short stint overseas in the UK working in health and disabilities as well as residential social work, I came home to Ōtaki electorate and continue to live in Levin with my whānau. I missed my church community, St. Joseph’s, the beautiful Tararua maunga, looking out at Kapiti Island, the normalisation of te reo Māori as you walk throughout the electorate, the best bacon and egg pies, and orange chocolate-chip ice cream. But most of all, I missed the community spirit of the Ōtaki electorate that ties us together, from Foxton right through to Paraparaumu.

Our electorate has been grateful for the Provincial Growth Fund that supports much-needed projects in the Ōtaki electorate, such as the Foxton river loop, Taraika, Ōtaki Māoriland, Waikanae riverways, and Paraparaumu Gateway project. This is a great start. However, there is much more that still needs to be done to improve outcomes for the Ōtaki people. Our region has examples of innovative and green projects, such as Energise Ōtaki solar farm, yet just a short distance to Levin, Lake Horowhenua, a taonga to the people of Muaūpoko and the Horowhenua, is highly polluted. This highlights that there is still much to be done to protect and restore our environment.

My time at Oranga Tamariki as a contract manager allowed me to see the incredible work agencies such as Youth One Stop Shop Horowhenua, and Kāpiti Youth Support do, supporting our rangatahi and most vulnerable with a range of health issues, as well as helping them to gain access to alternative education opportunities. Working on these contracts also showed the gaps, and where these groups are underfunded, the prospect of them not being able to continue to provide a full range of services they currently provide to our rangatahi doesn’t bear thinking about.

The Ōtaki electorate has the oldest population in New Zealand—all our kaumātua. It ranks first among general electorates on several age-related issues, yet there is no hospital in this electorate, nor is there public transport to get to either Palmerston North or Wellington hospitals, as our regular rail stops at Waikanae. From Waikanae north, we have one train that does one trip once a day, except for in the weekends. It is also set at around $30 per round trip. This is unaffordable for many of our students, low-income families, and seniors. We need to improve transport infrastructure in the region while also considering options to improve hospital-level services within the electorate. I will prioritise this work with my Government colleagues to address these issues for the people of the Ōtaki electorate.

More support and resources are needed to tackle the high rates of family violence and deep deprivation—especially in the northern part of our electorate—and the lack of affordable housing in the Ōtaki electorate. Last term was a great start in reducing child poverty and inequality, tackling the housing crisis that we inherited from the previous National Government, and putting a real focus on climate change, but much more still needs to be done to ensure the wellbeing and living standards of all New Zealanders are raised. In my time in this House, I will be working tirelessly to progress this mahi.

Mr Speaker, standing here before you as the newly minted MP for Ōtaki, I must acknowledge those who have supported me to achieve this great honour. I would like to start by thanking our Labour members, supporters, and volunteers from all corners of our electorate, from our nannies—who made some of the best sausage rolls I’ve ever tasted, and, as you can see, I’ve tasted loads—our letter-writers, sign-wavers, door-knockers, phone-canvassers, and hoarding teams, to those who gave me a cup of tea and a sympathetic ear. No words will truly express the love and appreciation I have for you all.

Also, the rainbow, takatāpuhi, fa‘afafine communities, Pasifika communities, women’s branches—especially of our Valkyries ladies—union, and Māori communities, with a special thanks to Ngāti Tukorehe.

I have to make special mention of our amazing campaign manager and my beautiful friend, Rebecca Ellery-Winchcombe, and her team, who drove a hard campaign.

Thank you to my Thursday sisters for keeping it real and holding it down for Henry and my babies while I have been away, and to my Watters and Chongnee families for your unconditional love and support. They say it takes a village, and our village is proof of this.

I must also acknowledge those that have passed: my grandad Bill and Kitty Watters, Tom and Trish Waho, Dianne Metcalfe, Grandpa Laulu Viko Chongnee, Uncle Kelly, Uncle Silio, Uncle Taki Chong-nee, and Auntie Anne Watters, who I know would have been with us in spirit—especially Dianne. As much as they say breast cancer took you from us too soon, so did poverty.

I want to acknowledge some trailblazers, role models who have inspired me in my political journey so far: Vui Mark Gosche, Luamanuvao Winnie Laban, the Hon Carmel Sepuloni, and the Hon Nanaia Mahuta. There is so much power in seeing people who look like you, doing the role you aspire to.

Married to an African myself, I would like to thank brother Ibrahim Omer for not only putting your hand up and representing the African community of Aotearoa but for providing my children with a role model that they can look up to.

Fa‘afetai tele lava to the Pasifika caucus, who have been so supportive. As a new person settling in, you have wrapped your support around me and given me invaluable guidance. I would especially like to thank the Hon Aupito William Sio and the Hon Jenny Salesa, who supported the Ōtaki electorate and myself during our campaign.

I also acknowledge the support from other Ministers and MPs who came to the beautiful Ōtaki electorate, especially Deputy Prime Minister Grant Robertson, who gave us a whole day of your very precious time. Also, the Hon Andrew Little and MPs Adrian Rurawhe and Greg O’Connor, thank you for your ongoing counsel.

To my mum and dad, Bill and Sia Watters, for giving me a social conscience and reminding me to use my voice to fight for justice, access, equality, and the rights for all people—I am so proud to be your daughter. You were always opening your doors to those seeking advice on unions and Pasifika advocacy, and sharing what little you had with others. I love you both very much.

Lastly, my husband, Henry Ngobi, and our babies, Azaria, Vito, and Tebasawa. Henry, you are the kindest, most humble, and genuine man I will ever know. You’re an amazing role model to our babies.

Boys, I know this is a big change in our lives, with me not being at home as much. I hope that one day you will understand that Daddy and I are doing this so that the world you grow up in and your friends grow up in will be a better and a fairer place. This is me trying to be the best mum I can be, ensuring the decisions made give you boys the best chance in life. I love you beyond words.

I cannot stress enough how very humbled I am to be part of this progressive Government and the opportunity to make a change for the better for all New Zealanders. I will not waste this opportunity, nor will I ever take the next three years for granted. Fa‘afetai tele lava. Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa.

[Applause]

Waiata

Kia ora koutou katoa. E te Atua, nāu te korōria. Te Whare e tū nei, tēnā koe. Te papa i waho nei, tēnā koe. Te mana whenua o tēnei rohe, tēnā koutou.

[Oh Lord, yours is the glory. To the House before me, greetings. To the land outside, greetings. To the tribes of this land, greetings.]

Fa’afetai mo le avanoa i lau susuga I le faipule. Ou te fa’atalofa atu I le paia ma le mamalu ua aofia mai lenei aso. Muamua ona ou fa’afetai I le Atua ona ua taunu’u lenei aso ma le manuia. Fa’atalofa ma fa’atulou atu I le ao o le malo, fa’atalofa I le palemia o Niu Sila. Talofa lava, mālō e lelei, tāloha ni, namaste, sat sri akaal ji, and warm greetings.

It is an honour and a privilege to stand here amongst representatives of the House, true representatives of Aotearoa New Zealand, who reflect the diverse and vibrant communities that we serve. I am privileged to work alongside those who honour and value our shared heritage, those who remember our history, and those who look to a brighter future for our families. I acknowledge the tangata whenua o Aotearoa; our Governor-General, the Rt Hon Dame Patsy Reddy; also our great Prime Minister, the Rt Hon Jacinda Ardern; and also further congratulate you, Mr Speaker, on your re-election in the House.

I want to say thanks to my family: my wife, Olivia, and son, Peter; my parents, Olita and Senara, Tauraa and Liz, and especially my late father Faleafa Pita. And to my nine siblings, those who could be here: Muliagatele Alaisalatemaota, Tauanuu Nicholas Backulich, Iutisone. And Vaifale Melvin and my siblings who couldn’t be here, their partners and children, who make up our beautiful, blended aiga. To my extended family, who have flown here as well, representatives from my Leavasa family, Tamasese family, and Vaifale family, also to my Takanini Labour Electorate Committee (LEC), Māngere LEC, and my church whānau, who have supported me. I honour them for all their hard work and prayers during these last few years. It has been an incredible journey to get to this moment, to be a new MP for the inaugural seat of Takanini. I want to show my appreciation to my Takanini community, to all those who placed their trust in me to be their first member of Parliament. I do not take this lightly. I will do my best to represent them and serve them well. I thank my campaign team and the Takanini LEC, some who were able to make it today: Namulauulu Anne Singh, Kharag Singh Sidhu, Tauanuu Nick Bakulich, Raj Singh, Liz Pale, and their families. I offer my deepest appreciation.

I acknowledge the history of Takanini. I pay tribute to Ihaka Takaanini, paramount chief of Te Ākitai Waiohua in the 1860s, who, along with his whānau, suffered great losses under the Crown. I pay homage to his whānau, to his hapū, and to his iwi. To those who have passed and those who continue to live today, I pray I can honour his people, the people of the great chief Ihaka Takaanini.

I want to acknowledge my Samoan heritage as I look to the plaque of Samoa right there in the Chamber, on the left-hand side, and share a little about my family’s part in that history. We too share a similar path with Chief Ihaka. When the New Zealand administration was in Samoa from the First World War, my great-grandfather Tupua Tamasese Lealofi III was one of the leaders of the Mau movement, the passive resistance movement for independence to colonial rule at that time. Tupua was arrested, stripped of his title, taken from his people and his homeland as a political prisoner in December 1928. He was sent to Mount Eden Prison for a term of six months. The administration had thought that prison time would have changed Tupua’s stance, even offering to bring him here to Wellington to appoint him as a fautua, an adviser; however, he declined this offer and was resolute in his position. I acknowledge the sacrifice that he and other Mau movement members made for independence. He died on what was called Black Saturday, when he was gunned down, shot in the back by police, trying to calm the crowd. His last words were, “Samoa filemu pea, ma si o’u toto ne’i ta’uvalea, a ia aoga lo’u ola mo lenei mea.” Translated: “My blood has been spilt for Samoa. I am proud to give it. Do not dream of avenging it, as it was spilt in peace. If I die, peace must be maintained at any price.”

For those who kept fighting for independence, it came to fruition 32 years after Lealofi’s death. I am deeply honoured to look back to where Samoa has come from, and where I stand here, a product of our history, a product of our joint relationship between our countries. I am proud to bear the name of Lealofioaana as my middle name, named after my great-grandfather. His brother Tupua Tamasese Meaole later became the first joint Head of State with Malietoa Tanumafili II, when Samoa gained independence in 1962. Later on, both my grand-uncles, Tui Atua Tupua Tamasese Dr Lealofi IV and Tui Atua Tupua Tamasese Efi, were both prime ministers of Samoa. Tui Atua Tupua Tamasese Efi later became head of State as well. My mother’s uncle was Minister of Education. My paternal grandfather was Minister of Agriculture. I share this history as I never thought I would be a politician, as I thought becoming a medical doctor would seal my fate for the rest of my life. However, my family will remind me of this family history of politics; so I am encouraged that I am in really good company.

My Samoan chief title is called “Anae”, from Falelatai, my grandmother’s village where our current head of State resides, His Highness Tuimalealiifano Vaaletoa Sualauvi II. I will continue to honour this Anae title, as do our Māori chiefs honour theirs, with service to our families, service to our community, and to our country. The Samoan proverb is very powerful in this sense: o le ala i le pule o le tautua, which means, “The pathway to leadership is through service.” Tautua I lau aiga, tautua I lau pitonu’u, tautua I lau atunu’u.

My parents migrated from the heart of the Pacific, Samoa, to Aotearoa in the early 1980s. My late father, Faleafa, comes from the villages of the Vaiala and Vaimoso. My mother, Olita, comes from Solosolo and Leau’va’a. They came to seek more opportunities for our family. They were very hard working, like all our Pacific families who migrated here during that time. I have been blessed to have hard-working parents who struggled earlier on so we would flourish later on.

Growing up in Aotearoa has been a blessing. I was brought up in South Auckland, Māngere, went to a local primary school, Viscount, and then went from form 1 to form 3 to Marsden College, then my later years at Auckland Grammar School. I wanted to become an All Black or professional athlete at a young age, but I suffered from left-knee bone cancer in my fourth form year. I remember playing a rugby game and afterwards seeing a lump on my left knee. After two weeks, this lump wasn’t resolving and was actually growing in size. My parents took me to the local doctors and I was sent to Middlemore for further tests. That’s when they diagnosed me with cancer. All I could think about was that my sporting hopes were dashed. As a teenager, I didn’t really understand what cancer was.

My second operation was to remove the tumour and place a metal knee-joint in it. But if the surgeon had found that the cancer was deeper and more widespread, they advised I could lose my whole leg. I remember waking up after that operation as a 14-year-old all dazed from the drugs, sore throat from where the breathing tube was, and immediately reached to touch my leg to see if it was still there. Well, my leg was numb from the anaesthetic, so I had to ask the recovery nurse, and she assured me that I still had my leg intact. I was so grateful that, even though I have a metal knee-joint with rods sticking up to my hip, my lower leg is still functioning well.

My parents took it hard, but I wanted to stay strong for them. The journey was difficult for my whole family—in and out of hospital for many years disrupted my college years and I had cancer spread to my left lung twice, which ended with my left lung being totally removed. So I stand here with one lung and a metal knee joint. So often you’ll see me limp. I call my limp my swag. And I often get short of breath, but I’m just pretty unfit. But I’m truly blessed to be here. I recall looking out of my hospital window—whether it be at Middlemore Hospital overlooking our friendly grammar rival school, King’s College, or Auckland Hospital with the Auckland Domain and that big, round chimney-looking object obscuring my view. I would always look out and imagine myself being that person running in the domain, that person walking towards the museum, or that person walking to school. All I wanted was to live a life that was normal, but now I look back and thank God for the many blessings that I’ve had along the way. Maybe normal was not part of my script.

So 2002 was my last year of chemotherapy. My hair grew back, the swellings throughout my body resolved after months of steroids, surgical wounds started to heal, and the following year I was able to attend Auckland medical school, then subsequently complete my specialty training in general practice, serve as a South Auckland doctor for 12 years, become the first Pacific health provider for Telehealth services, and serve my community on the Māngere-Ōtāhuhu Local Board this past year.

I dare to say: live a life that is not normal. Step out of your comfort zone, push the limits, shift your mind-set, and shift your future. I think about the huge amount of talent we have in South Auckland: our youth who aspire to do great things such as I did, despite what barriers we have in front of us. South Auckland is my home. It has shaped me; it has inspired me. The media often misrepresents us. Yes, we have our own issues, but we do have our own solutions. We have our own flavour. We will continue to shine; we will continue to rise.

As a South Auckland doctor, I have seen what poverty, poor housing conditions, and poor access to equitable healthcare can do to our families. I have many that come to clinic that struggle to provide for their families; struggle to work multiple jobs to make ends meet; and struggle to live in cold, damp, mouldy homes that impact on their health. That’s why health, for many people, takes a back seat as they try to deal with other urgent priorities.

As clinicians, we know that what underpins health and wellbeing are these social determinants of health. I find myself writing support letters in the clinic just as much as I’m treating my patients. It is so important that we get things right here at central government - level so we can get things right with the community as well. That’s why Labour values and policies are so pivotal with these issues: to increase the minimum wage, to improve access to healthcare, and to have access to warm, dry homes. It is why I am here to make a difference on a broader scale that will lead to better health outcomes for all New Zealanders and not just the few.

My new electorate of Takanini is vibrant and is diverse. I have done medical work for many years within parts of the electorate, so I am blessed to be elected to this position. I have had the privilege of meeting our colourful community, young and old. Our population is the second-fastest growing in New Zealand, and with it comes various challenges. We have some residential areas being developed at a fast rate, which means we need infrastructure to help to cope with this increase. I am grateful that our Labour-led Government is focusing on infrastructure projects that will help our population growth and also support jobs during this COVID-19 environment. I think about Ormiston Primary School, which has recently received over $10 million to help build more classrooms for our tamariki, and I also think about the $1.3 billion investment that will help Mill Road develop as another safe and reliable link between Manukau and Drury. My priority is to help ensure that our communities thrive and flourish, and, with our population growth, to ensure that our communities feel connected, feel safe, and feel at home.

There has been a lot of talk about borders in recent times; also new electorate borders as well. Our border stretches from the northern end of Mission Heights, Flat Bush—to name a few—coming down to our southern border: Wattle Downs and Takanini itself. I describe these suburbs, as we know each one has its own character and has its own history—every suburb is unique. I hope to bring unity in that diversity to help celebrate our differences and be united for prosperity for all people. We’ve made history with this electorate. I look to the future with hope, faith perseverance, patience, and lots of aroha.

We all know that there are seasons in life: the high seasons and the low seasons, a beginning and an end. One season I was looking out from my hospital window, and now I look outside from my parliamentary window. Every day is a bonus for me. There will be a time when our political season will end. When the time comes for my valedictory, I hope to look back and say, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” Malo ma faʻafetai, Mr Speaker. God bless and thank you.

[Applause]

Waiata

I think we might have some people leaving and we’ve got some people coming through. I want to especially thank the Wainuiōmata part of that crew—they were most harmonious. At the conclusion of the next maiden statement the House will stand suspended until 7 o’clock. That just saves me interrupting afterwards.

Afioga, Mr Speaker. It is a privilege for me to stand here as the MP for Mana, a path walked before me by Graham Kelly, the Hon Luamanuvao Dame Winnie Laban, and by the Hon Kris Faafoi. Thank you for paving the way. Fa‘afetai tele lava to the people of Mana for entrusting me with your voice. Ngāti Toa Rangatira, tēnā koutou. Tamariki mā o Mana College, tēnā koutou. O’u aiga uma i Samoa, talofa lava.

Mr Speaker, I want to acknowledge your appointment as the father of the House. Over 12 years ago, after choosing to settle our family in Porirua, my auntie Freda Soe from Wainuiōmata said to me that I made the wrong choice. She said, “You should move to Wainui where there is a good local MP who got lights on the hill so you can see where you are driving at night.” State Highway 1 from Wellington to Mana is still not fully lit, so the bar has been set by my auntie as to what a good electorate MP must achieve.

Prime Minister, it has been a privilege to have served you as a Beehive staffer. I’ve seen you operate behind closed doors in some of our country’s darkest days: 15 March, Whakaari / White Island, and now through COVID. I’m in awe of your energy, your strength, your empathy, and your ability to critically analyse thousands of policy briefings that come before you. I stand ready to serve you now as a member of your caucus.

Today, I want to share a love story—more than one love story, actually: love stories weaved throughout my many names, from across the Pacific Ocean to the hills of Mana and into the waters of Te Awarua-o-Porirua, from Kāpiti Island in the North and Mana Island in the South. My name is Barbara Rachael Fati Palepa Edmonds. Fati is short for Fatimataaleniuoaana. It is my paternal great-grandmother’s name, who fell in love with a tama uli—a blackbird—indentured labourers who were abducted from the Solomon Islands or New Guinea to work as slaves in the copra fields of Samoa. The translation of our name means “to fetch the green coconuts from the district of A’ana”. It is the Civil War story of tactic and strategy by defeating your enemy through stealing their food supply. My great-grandmother Fati was the village midwife and nurse who was the centre of her village’s health response to the influenza pandemic that wiped out 22 percent of Samoa’s population in 1918. I note the apology given on behalf of the New Zealand Government by the Rt Hon Helen Clark in 2002 for the actions taken by the New Zealand authorities, who allowed the ship the Talune, carrying passengers with influenza, to dock in Apia in 1918. We must learn from our mistakes, so I echo the call in the Speech from the Throne that it is of great imperative that New Zealand’s obligations to the Pacific are a core part of the COVID-19 vaccine strategy.

Edmonds is my married name. My quiet, humble, supportive, and patient husband Chris hails from Ngāti Manu Kāretu and Ngāti Oneone Kaikohe; Ngāpuhi te iwi. We are high school sweethearts. Although we only planned to have seven children, it is possibly a tribute to my Chinese side of my family that we rounded it off at the luckiest number, the number most inviting of wealth: eight children. Acacia, Arkaid, Agape, Patience, Prayer, Salem, Yahzel, and Harmony, you are our greatest treasure, and you will always be our greatest achievement.

Rachael is the name given to me by my father, Selani. He was the eldest of Grandpa’s 19 children and the only child to go past fourth form and receive a tertiary education. In 1976, he crossed the Pacific Ocean with his wife and my two older sisters to Aotearoa, the land of milk and honey, to give his family a better life. Oute fa‘atalofa atu i aiga of lo‘u tin‘a, Fasitoo-Uta, Safotu ma Asau. Oute fa‘atalofa atu fo‘i i aiga o lo‘u tam`a Faleula ma Faleatiu.

My parents initially settled in a rat-infested place in Ponsonby, and like many Pacific Islanders of the 1970s, they moved with the Pacific tide and shifted to South Auckland where the housing was more affordable. However, my educated father knew it was not the place he wanted to bring up his children. Like many of my father’s generation, with their meagre savings and by capitalising their family scheme benefit—a Labour policy from the days of Walter Nash—they put down a deposit to build a home on Auckland’s North Shore. Little did my father know, though, he would have to leave his job soon after and go on the sickness benefit to care for his wife, who was diagnosed with cancer. Two years later, he would be a widower at the age of 40, with four children under the age of 11, living off the domestic purposes benefit.

Barbara, or Palepa, was my mother’s name, bestowed on me by my family chief, the late Timu Lafaele, on my fifth birthday, the same day we buried my mother. Our family was never alone, though. Like many Pacific migrant families, our house was the transit lounge for the scores of family members as they arrived from Samoa, worked, saved money, and moved on to set up their own houses. We had 24 people living in our house at one time, but there were always beds because as the night shift went out, the day shift came home. Most of my family worked at the plastics factory or the local hospital, where they did the laundry, were the kitchen hands, the cooks, the cleaners, or the orderlies. While they were in the bowels of the kitchen, they sent me and my siblings to the decile 10 school right next door.

I am the fruit of their struggle. This was a classic Labour story, and this is where I learnt my Labour values. If a Government could support low-income parents who worked hard so that their children could have a better and more secure life, it was all right by me. Opportunity in education, always a fundamental tenet of the Labour Party from the days of Michael Joseph Savage and Peter Fraser, became critical for making the most of my potential and giving me and my family choices. My father went back to school at the age of 48 to become a social worker, and he worked as one until he retired in 2017. The Training Incentive Allowance paid for his petrol so he could get to his lectures. It gives me great pride that this Government is reinstating the Training Incentive Allowance, a policy that I know not only impacts directly on the children of solo parents but, in my father’s case, the thousands of vulnerable children that he cared for as a social worker.

The education that my family had worked so hard to provide for me meant I understood that completing my tertiary education was an investment in our family’s future. With the help of the Edmonds whānau, I completed my law and arts degrees in 5½ years. By the end, Chris and I had four children and we were expecting our fifth. Like my father, my family depended on me. Failure was not an option. It was tough. Self-inflicted, of course, but still tough. We only had $8 in our hand at the end of the week as Chris worked as a low-paid timber machinist. That meant we had no cushion if our car broke down or it failed its warrant or if I needed an additional textbook. Our financial situation only improved in 2006 when a much-needed boost arrived through an increase in Working for Families. We were one of those families whom the Helen Clark - Labour Government assisted out of relative poverty and into a life of opportunities and choices. It made a real difference to our family.

And now I’m here, moulded and shaped by quintessential Labour values, saved from falling through the cracks as a child, through the Labour policies of Michael Joseph Savage, Walter Nash, Norman Kirk and, Helen Clark. At every difficult point in mine or my family’s life, there’s been a Labour Government that has been our safety net. I stand on the shoulders of those before me wanting to use those values to improve the lives of families in Mana. So it is my turn to serve my community, the community of Mana to promote and expand those values to ensure that these safety nets, opportunities, and choices remain or are reinstated.

My love affair with Mana started in October 2008. I secured a role with the IRD national office as their first Pacific tax policy analyst and we were looking for a home in Wellington. We started in Mana, the sun was shining and there was a rowing—a waka ama—regatta on Te Awarua-o-Porirua Harbour. As we moved south towards Johnsonville it started to pour down with rain—

💬 Hon Members: Ha, ha!

—I’m just saying!—and then it hailed as we drove to Newtown. We didn’t even try to make it over the Wainui Hill, much to my Auntie Freda’s disappointment. We took it as a sign that Titahi Bay, Porirua, Mana was the place we would call home for our family. And what a home it is. Mana is an extremely diverse electorate, both in geography and people, a coastline that leads to Kāpiti Island in the north and Mana Island in the south, with rolling hills surrounding Paraparaumu, Paekākāriki, Pukerua Bay, Waitangirua, Cannons Creek, Plimmerton, and Judgeford.

Mana has the fifth-highest population of Pacific peoples, almost triple the national average. A fifth of our population are Māori and one-quarter of our population are born overseas. History shows that economic recessions hit Pacific, Māori, and migrant communities the hardest, so I’m proud to be part of a Government that not only represents our communities more but one that has Pacific, Māori, and migrants at the table to help make those decisions so that our people are not left behind.

Mana consistently rates above the national average for voter turnout at the general election. That is because the people in Mana know how much the decisions and policies made here in Wellington Central impact on their everyday lives—issues that matter, such as affordable warm, dry homes, homes that we can call our own; 24/7 access to healthcare; decent, paying jobs and decent conditions where workers’ rights are respected; quality local education so that our children do not have to leave the electorate to learn, with classrooms and buildings that match the mana of the students that learn within their walls; a thriving local economy where businesses small and significant can spend most of their time actually running their business rather than being unreasonably caught up in compliance; core infrastructure that is maintained or expanded to accommodate for population growth so that we can swim at our local beach and not fear the floods that come with rising sea levels and extreme weather patterns; a world that breathes for generations to come.

There is much work to do and we cannot do this alone. The Government cannot solve every problem, so we must depend on NGOs and community groups to help us, whether it be the Raumati village community gardens, Norths Rugby Club, potential wind turbines on the hill at Paekākāriki, the Linden Community Centre Friday lunch, or the one-stop shop for youth in the East. The dozens of community organisations, clubs, schools, and groups I visited during my campaign and those I’ve been a part of for the last 12 years have one clear, simple, and loud message to us in this House and to Government agencies: do not forget the communities that we serve because at the nub of it, the community knows what the community needs.

For us members, we must now turn our values into policy and policy, into to action. It would be remiss of me not to touch on the topic of tax. Contrary to popular belief and probably to the dismay of our small tax community here in New Zealand, I do not love tax, but I do believe in a fair, efficient, and cohesive tax system that has a broad base with low rates. I also believe that much of how we have a cohesive tax system is because of the generic tax policy process. This process is the model for all Government policy development if carried out genuinely.

My alofa to those who helped me get here is also appropriate at this time. My family from far and wide, especially Sela, my mum, who picked up where Palepa couldn’t continue, the Mana Labour Electorate Committee and E tū union, the scores of our dedicated, passionate volunteers and friends, the housewives of Titahi Bay, Paekākāriki, and Raumati who knocked on the doors, picked up phones, made food, messaged me with words of encouragement and siva-ed with me throughout the campaign—thank you. My core campaign team of Kieran, Josh, Brenda, Suzanne, Jim, Megan, Helen, Jamie, Baigent and Swann, Caroline and Geoff: you taught this political rookie the value of direct voter contact. I’m for ever grateful for your time, teachings, and friendship. Robin, Kathryn, Maryan, Dave, Dan, Jerome, Telea, Andrea, Neil, Janet Holborow, John Grundy, Carmel and Stuart: you always believed that I was capable of doing this even when I didn’t think so myself. Thank you for providing me with the soft landings that I needed.

My final thanks go to all those who work or worked these walls of Parliament and the Beehive. Most MPs leave this thanks for their valedictory speech, but I want to mark it twice knowing how hard it is. This is a unique place to work where we see the best of people and, on the rare occasions, the worst of people, and where a 40-hour week is a luxury. Staffers do not do their jobs for the love, for money, or for work-life balance, but because we know that change can be effected from within these walls. Fa’afetai, fa’afetai, fa’afetai tele lava.

I conclude with a love note to my dearest Mana. My commitment to you is that I will advocate with that same fighting spirit that is captured in my name, with the same humility and compassion my great-grandmother possessed as she helped care for the sick in her village, and with the tenacity to never give up, no matter what life throws at you, as taught to me by my father, because people don’t want much—just someone to love, somewhere to live, somewhere to work, and something to hope for. Nō reira, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa. Ia manuia le soifua.

[Applause]

Waiata

Sitting suspended from 6.15 p.m. to 7 p.m.

I move, That this debate be now adjourned.

Motion agreed to.

This debate is set down for consideration next sitting day.