Valedictory StatementsValedictory Statement

Members, I will indicate now that at the conclusion of the Rt Hon Trevor Mallard’s valedictory statement, the House will adjourn until 2 p.m. on Tuesday, 25 October 2022, so that I don’t have to interrupt the celebrations that will occur at the end of that speech.

Members, in accordance with a determination of the Business Committee, I call on the Rt Hon Trevor Mallard to make his valedictory speech.

Kātahi anō au ka wātea ki te mihi ki a koe e te Mana Whakawā i te tūranga hou.

[Now for the first time I am free to acknowledge you, Mr Speaker, in your new role.]

I’ve had the honour of being unanimously elected as a presiding officer three times. Ka rawe tō mahi ki a koe hei kaiako mōku. [You were an excellent teacher for me.]

Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa.

[Greetings, greetings, greetings one all.]

I came to this place with a mission: to make New Zealand a more inclusive, more prosperous, and a better country. My talk today will involve some thanks, some anecdotes, and a bit of preaching—not much of that preaching will be to the choir!

I joined the Labour Party 50 years ago next month, after watching Norman Kirk speak. My mother’s family had benefited from the first Labour State house building programme. A secure, warm home meant the world of difference to that poor family during the Depression; allowing them to buy it, after living in it for decades, was a good thing. Members of my father’s family were actively involved in the union movement, including with Standing True in 1951. None of my grandparents had a secondary education, and Peter Fraser made a big difference for my parents.

I did some work in that election in 1975 for David Shand, who’s with us today. David was part of the caucus that elected the Kirk Cabinet a few days after the election, but he lost on the specials. I became more active after the 1981 election loss and helped build a large branch at Taumarunui. Our home became a meeting place for both wings of the Labour movement. We got to know David Lange and Helen Clark because they stayed with us. There wasn’t as much money for travel in those days.

I became a candidate in late 1983 in Hamilton West. All four of us were opposed to Muldoon, but even Mike Minogue’s maverick independence didn’t save him from the tide. The Hamilton West Labour team was a real mixture of New Zealand society: academics and unionists, World War II veterans and those imprisoned as conscientious objectors, feminists and those who thought that blue movie evenings were an appropriate way to fund-raise—forwarding those funds to the Women’s Refuge and returning the cheque to the company who wanted to mine the Coromandel conservation estate set an ongoing tone for the team. The tide going out in 1990 meant that I missed the opportunity to place my thanks on the parliamentary record; I do that now for the late “Skip” Fraser, Martin Wallace, Linda Holmes, and Mike Law, who led in various ways.

My first day here is etched in my memory. I was walking along the select committee corridor with my younger daughter, when Sir Robert came the other way. He was still the Prime Minister. In fact, it took a brave intervention from Jim McClay to get him to follow constitutional conventions. No police. No staffers. That’s the way it was in those days: the Prime Minister just wandered around. Two-year-old Beth sighted Sir Robert and called out “Daddy! Daddy! There’s ‘Piggy’ Muldoon!” His response: “Ha, ha, ha! What’s your name, little girl?” Later in Copperfields, he pointed at me and said in his stage whisper, “Who’s that one, McKinnon?” “That’s Mallard, Prime Minister; he beat Minogue.” “Oh, good on him. We’d better send him a bottle of whisky, hadn’t we?” Like many Muldoon promises, delivery never ensued.

I’d like to thank some people. First to you, Prime Minister. Of all the colleagues I’ve worked with, you’ve made the biggest difference. You’ve had challenges like no other. But I’m pleased now that your policies are beginning to get some substantive analysis. The recent report on Healthy Homes shows how reducing child hospitalisation rates can be done. Anyone who is in touch with their local communities can see the house building that is occurring, much of it is social housing. We all know new apprentices. Local schools tell me the difference that access to mental health services is making. None of these things happen overnight, but they are happening. Thank you for making clear your expectations of MP behaviour, following the Francis report, and your support in putting the commissioner into place. The era of sweeping matters under the carpet in this place is coming to an end.

Your kindness is evident to all, but what I also see is the preparation and the competence—the contrast with what I see far too often here and it’s a combination of lazy high school debating styles and reading boring research unit notes. Both are far too common in this Chamber.

I think there must be something in the water of the Leader of the Opposition’s office, and I will say I have warned the three previous Leaders of the Opposition who are in the room of this line. With the exception of John Key, everyone who has assumed that role in the last quarter of a century has seemingly lost the ability to listen in this House, and to respond with spontaneity and nimbleness. Prime Minister, I’m pleased you skipped that role.

I’ve been married to two women who’ve been very supportive of me. In my generation, the wives are often the partner who would have been the better MP. Steph was in that category. My biggest regret is that I caused my first marriage to fail in a way that was catastrophic for my family.

Jane picked me up from the scrap heap. Her income dropped when she took up with me and she could no longer use me in her colour pieces. It dropped even further when we got married and the Dominion Post decided that every piece she wrote had to note that fact. She stopped writing for them, and their circulation has been dropping ever since.

At some stage, we do have to have a discussion as to whether the base assumption is that spouses share confidential and privileged information with each other, or that they behave professionally. Frankly, I spent too much of my time in the sensitive compartmented information facility being briefed on national security matters that I find the suggestion that I would pass on MPs’ confidential information to my spouse particularly insulting.

My children are all really talented in their different ways, and over the last 13 years I’ve been lucky to have seven grandchildren; four of them born in Galway and four now living here. The seven-year-old—then-seven-year-old immigrant when she arrived here—called me “Mr Talker”! And following a meeting with Helen Clark and the current PM, she asked: “Can men be Prime Minister in New Zealand?”

The weekly toddlers swimming sessions in the parliamentary pool have helped me get to know my only Wellington-born grandchild, and I want to thank the Copperfields staff for their tolerance when he worked out how to turn the lights off. There were a few occasions when the MPs there were all literally in the dark.

Mum and my late father were great supporters. Mum was worth at least 200 votes every election. She collected the sick votes. I’m pretty sure that some of the oldies would feign illness just to get a visit from Mum. Dad played the Tory interjector at a couple of debate training sessions for Helen. He did it too well and he wasn’t invited back. The three of us together, and then Mum and I, had lunch on sitting Tuesdays at the Backbencher for over 30 years. It was very grounding. My siblings have been there for me too; too often called upon at the low points rather than sharing the highs.

Thanks too for those that have encouraged me to bike. I was 15 kilos heavier when Heather Kirkham took me under her wing, and Heather tells me I’ve only got 15 to go.

Helen Clark was a confidante, and we got to know each other’s foibles. Helen was never a morning person. I worked out the best way to have good Cabinet committees was to have lattes delivered at 9.30 and 11. They were amongst the best investments I ever made. One of Helen’s biggest achievements was to rid the Labour Party of factionalism, which meant that ideas are now treated on their merits, not on the basis of who was promoting them in the mindless way that hobbles both the Australian and British Labour Parties. David McGee, Geoffrey Palmer, and Don McKinnon all helped me understand and love this place. There was a messenger called Trevor who did the evening shift over by the Speaker’s door. He gave me running guidance on points of order, with a quiet nod, “you’re heading in the right direction”, or a shake, “no, you’re down the wrong track.”

💬 Hon Chris Hipkins: Did he ever nod?

He did nod quite often! But one thing that I can say is that he had a better understanding of the Standing Orders than either Sir Basil Arthur or Gerry Wall, who were the Speakers in my first term. Basil was a freezing worker, he was a Ministry of Works tunneller, but he is also a hereditary baron and entitled to sit in the House of Lords. Gerry was one of the doctors who treated drug addiction, and at 6 o’clock there was a queue at the Speaker’s door, out in the alley, of addicts waiting for their daily methadone drink. He was himself a nicotine addict and had about a 40-minute limit in the Chair. The last part of question time was always interesting!

I was Michael Cullen’s Associate Minister of Finance. We became close and looked after each other when things weren’t going that well. He got me to read all his Treasury papers with my black hat on—apparently it got on pretty easily—identifying the gaps, the dangers, and the misplaced decimal points. I also had the expenditure control role. It was my job to tell colleagues that their logical, well-developed bids that were consistent with party policy were not going to get funding.

Every Budget had a surplus. I laughed out loud recently when I heard a $10 billion deficit being described as being “awash with cash.” The final results were often significantly better, generally because employment was higher and numbers on benefits were lower than Treasury forecast. Michael blocked efforts to improve the model because he wanted to keep his fiscal headroom. In retrospect, I think we would have been a bit better if we’d loosened up on health and, certainly, on housing expenditure; both areas suffered, but, of course, not to the extent that they suffered later.

Annette King and I were bench mates from 1984 to 1987, right back in the corner—there. Throughout my career, she’s been a very good friend. She’s been doing a brilliant job in Australia, and she’s been giving me plenty of tips. It’s great to see how happy she’s been since she’s teamed up with Ray. Annette and I didn’t always agree on policy; she was fiscally dry, except when it came to her portfolios. Annette went into Cabinet just before the Lange resignation. At the time, two-thirds of the Labour caucus wanted Lange to be leader, and two-thirds wanted Douglas to be finance Minister, so about a third really believed in fairies. Helen and I spent some time with David at his home in Māngere, unsuccessfully trying to talk him into staying on.

Being around for a long time means that lots of staff have worked with me, some for as long as 15 years. I’m naming those who’ve spent six or more years with me because I can’t think of a way of doing a fair, subjective criteria. So thank you, Eileen Sutter and Shona Robb, who were the mainstays of my electorate office; Jen Toogood and Carly Bromley, who bore the brunt of organising me as a backbencher; Sharon Girven, who led a superb ministerial office team that included Malcolm Bill, Charlotte Hughes-Johnson, Sharon Ellis, Astrid Smeele, and Bill Moran.

Bill, with Katherine Rich, drove the establishment of Parliament Education Charitable Trust. Nearly 60 MPs have been assisted with study, ranging from remedial reading through institutive directors’ courses, to postgraduate university study. Thanks, too, to those who led the local Labour team in different ways: Barry Ebert, the late Kenny Barclay, Angela Fookes, Sharon Cole, and Anaru Ryall.

The people who run this place are underrated, some by the Remuneration Authority. Thank you, David Wilson, Rafael Gonzalez-Montero, the actual organisers, Andie Lindsay and Roland Todd, and the rest of your teams. I want to say a special thanks to the low-paid staff who keep this place running. I was very pleased when we became the first State sector workplace to adopt the living wage.

Because I’ve been an MP for a long time, it’s inevitable that I’ve met some interesting international leaders: Gromyko, Rajiv Gandhi, Colin Powell, Mandela, Thatcher, and the late Queen could all get little chapters, or maybe footnotes in some cases, for me. But what I valued much more from travelling is getting to appreciate colleagues from the other side of the House. Philip Burdon, John Luxton the younger, and Barbara Kuriger have all taught me much more about international trade and the dairy industry than papers ever could have. The work that Barbara did earlier this year with Italian, Polish, and Irish farming groups could well make a difference when it comes to the ratification of the EU trade agreement, and what I like is the way that Kiwis work together so well when they’re offshore.

George Gair was a journalist at the end of World War II. In the USSR, he explained to us the beginning of the Cold War from a New Zealand perspective, something that’s just as relevant—in fact, more relevant now, probably, than it was at that time. He also provided a direct example of the intrusiveness of Soviet surveillance. Pre-perestroika Moscow hotels were very inefficient. We all took our own bath plugs, because there was nothing for the bath or the hand basins, but we expected our towels would be changed. After four days of requests, George addressed the chandelier in our lounge. He said, “I do not believe that the first country in the world to put a man into space cannot deliver towels to a hotel room.”; 20 minutes later, they arrived.

We’ve made some progress here in recent years. Our buildings are more family- and dog-friendly. Our prayer is no longer the Anglican one. The grounds of buildings are more welcoming to the public. We mostly treat each other better, but we have more work to do.

Our select committees used to lead the world, but I think they’ve become rubber stamps for Governments. Members form the legislative branch and they should take responsibility for legislation. Reform isn’t hard. They should sit more. Recesses used to be called select committee weeks. Submitters were heard—half an hour or an hour, if they had something really important to say. Committee membership should be based the same way as questions—based on the number of non-executive members the party has, similarly to chairs. Departments have got to realise that when they are advising committees, they are advising committees and not the Minister. Submitters to committees need to know that their submissions will be treated on their merits by committees, not vetoed by a political adviser in a Minister’s office, who is often breaching privilege by merely being in position of the committee material. Ministers should trust the process. Let the committees do their work, and if, in the end, they don’t like the result, then they can change the bill at the committee of the whole House stage. The Government has the power to pass legislation here; it should trust the select committees to try and improve it.

One fascinating bit of advocacy work I did in my first term was at the behest of a friend who was working for Médecins Sans Frontières in the Sudan. He alerted me to Simon, a nurse who worked with him, whose family who, as a result of the Ethiopian-Eritrean war, had been scattered for a period of nine years. The boys, Habin and Salem, were in a German Catholic orphanage. His wife, Zewdi, worked as a domestic in Saudi Arabia. None of them had documents. Kerry Burke issued them with temporary documentation and they made their way to New Zealand. The children didn’t have a common language with their parents. What that taught me is that Ministers have discretion and it’s really good to exercise it with compassion.

I’ve lived, for two thirds of my life, in Wainuiōmata. The population grew from a few hundred, when I was young, and we were briefly a city—Michael Bassett got to us. It was a community with a clear boundary and intergenerational networks. My father played interclub mixed doubles tennis with Ken and Winnie’s mum in the 1960s. Keith Eddy and Harry Martin led the community teams that built the rugby field, the swimming pool, and the school hall—mainly on Saturdays because almost no one did paid work at the weekends. There was over 90 percent owner-occupied housing in the 1970s. Families used first-home buyer grants, subsidised homeownership schemes, family benefit capitalisation, and State Advances loans at only slightly more than the cost of the borrowing to the State. All of that assistance was removed in the 1980s and, now, nearly 40 percent of homes are owned by landlords, with the inevitable churn, instability, and reduced long-term commitment to the community.

The reforms of the 1980s and 1990s hit our valley hard. Jobs at the railway workshops, car part manufacturing, and car assembly plants all but disappeared, leaving many families in stressed financial circumstances, in danger of losing their homes. Part of my work as an MP at the time was negotiating debt consolidation and mortgage terms—families were much better off if they could stay in their own home rather than rent. It would often involve tense discussions with pastors about unaffordable tithing. The local supermarket was great; it provided extra work, often at nights and weekends, for people who really needed it. And, in just about every case, the banks came to the party—often by stretching the repayment term, and sometimes with a personal guarantee from the local MP. The guarantees were never called upon and those $60,000 homes are now valued at 10 times that.

We currently spend $4.7 billion a year in family tax credits, in work tax credits, and subsidies to landlords that we call the accommodation supplement. We should use the strength of one of the strongest Crown balance sheets in the world, and present value calculations, to make available advance payments, as we did for family benefit capitalisation, for use of partial deposits for Kiwi families. It would involve no extra cost to the Crown in the medium term, a bit of belt tightening for new home owners—but that is always the case and has always been the case. But the education, health, and community benefits would be enormous. The second order savings would be massive.

The time has come to significantly upscale KiwiSaver. The first thing that needs to be done is that the sham that was legislated for by the previous Government, where employees are offered a 3 percent higher salary if they opt out, needs to be reversed. Second, it should be made compulsory—at least for all new entrants to work. Thirdly, we need to look at whether the employer contribution should be a flat rate, rather than a percentage of an individual’s salary. That would make a significant difference to low-paid workers. I would increase the individual contribution rate by half the annual increase in real wages until we can get it up to 10 percent. It would significantly increase our savings culture but give employers the opportunity to be better capitalised and time to look for methods, other than low wages, to boost profitability.

And now for a left-field suggestion. I’ve long been concerned that the Reserve Bank only has one instrument—other than printing money—to wind up or cool down the economy. With so many mortgages being fixed, the cash rate tool has become a bit like using a hammer to fine-tune an electric vehicle. The results are both slow and unpredictable. An extra tool for the Reserve Bank could be to give them discretion over, say, the last 2 percent of individuals’ KiwiSaver contributions. They could increase or decrease net pay almost immediately and, in that way, boost or tighten the economy. It would have a much more immediate effect than interest rates. Most of us would prefer to see a bit more of our incomes go into KiwiSaver than go to banks through increased mortgage rates. And banks, of course, put up mortgage rates at just about the same speed as petrol retailers put up petrol prices and drop them just as slowly. The profits show that.

The policy area that was and is the most important to me is early childhood education. It is where the biggest cognitive and emotional development occurs. It used to be legal for an untrained minimum wage worker to look after 10 babies at once. Just imagine trying to do it. We had a great working group and a good 10-year plan. There are signs of renewed progress with it. However, subsidies currently go too often to companies that are more interested in property development and capital gains than quality early childhood education.

Throughout the education system, the best way of improving the quality of learning is to improve the quality of teaching. That’s why I’ve often agreed with some of my former teacher union colleagues and preferred to invest heavily in teacher professional development rather than focus on improved ratios; Lockwood Smith was partially right. Unfortunately, centrally funded support is easy to cut. It was decimated and, in my opinion, teaching standards have been slipping for more than the last decade as a result of that.

I enjoyed being the Minister for Sport and Recreation. Invitations relating to other portfolios were much more likely to be accepted if they were close to a Silver Ferns, a Black Ferns, or an Otago women’s rugby match. I got to know lots of wonderful people, and occasionally I was able to help.

There was one netballer who needed citizenship to play at the Commonwealth Games. She just didn’t come close to qualifying except by the ministerial discretion that can, in that case, override all of the policy. The then Minister of Internal Affairs wasn’t keen. The departmental advice was very much opposed, 9/11 meant—as a matter of policy—we were tightening up, and the one person my predecessor had promoted had failed a drug test at Kuala Lumpur. Fortunately, in New Zealand, any Minister can act for any other—something Scott Morrison would have appreciated. And the Minister agreed to leave the papers on their desk during dinner. I popped in, I signed them, and a week later, the Government performed Irene’s citizenship ceremony in my office.

In early 2005, the possibility of winning the hosting rights to the 2011 Rugby World Cup looked remote. But it was important as to how we saw ourselves. Failure would have been—you know, being too small to run it—a big blow to the national psyche. We decided the Government would invest heavily in the rugby unions, but our biggest assets were the late Jock Hobbs and the Prime Minister. The other bidders were shocked when we won; we’d been 27-to-one outsiders a few weeks earlier. I was dispatched on a one-day trip to Tokyo for a meeting with the chair of the Japanese rugby union, the former Prime Minister Mori, to give our Government’s assurance that we had not followed the practice of football and the Olympics and bribed the decision makers. I undertook to work with our union to support the Japanese in the future.

Unlike that case, there are some decisions that are important but will never get popular support. I took lots of those decisions. I’ve always had appalling popularity ratings, and never got too anxious about it. I accept that I’m not that good a politician. I closed over 200 schools, including one down the road from home, where I’ve been a foundation pupil, because they were in the wrong place. Population numbers had changed; communities didn’t value them enough to send their children there. But I was never successfully judicially reviewed; I followed the processes. Opposition members promised all the time to reopen them. How many were reopened? None.

I will never forget being ridiculed by members opposite for undertaking to partner with Rocket Lab. I was described as a space cadet—and for those who, you know, are of a different era, that’s someone who is out of touch with reality; generally, drug use was a reason for being so described—for accepting Peter Beck’s view that New Zealand could leverage our good weather, our low concentration of aircraft, and our ingenuity to develop a space industry.

Taxpayer funding for the America’s Cup is another unpopular policy. I’ve never seen a poll, except just after we’d won, where more than 20 percent of Kiwis supported it. Jim Bolger saw the potential, promised support, and was vetoed by Bill Birch. We decided that the equivalent of the PAYE paid by the team would be refunded. There was a condition: they had to be a tax resident in New Zealand. It was viewed with horror by the sailors, who, because of their nomadic lifestyle, had in the past carefully avoided having tax residence anywhere.

We now lead the world in carbon fibre technology, something Rocket Lab is built off. We have hydrogen-powered foiling chase boats, which in the next couple of years will be fashion items. More important are the advances made in computer design and simulation. They’ve attracted the attention of both gamers and those interested in simulation for defence purposes. Again, I’m pretty unusual; I’m ambivalent about where the cup is held. Twice, it’s been good for progressing the Auckland waterfront. In 2003, the team wasn’t up to scratch, but the leverage worked well. New Zealand trade and tourism probably got their best promotion value when they invested in Cowes and Valencia and San Francisco. Leveraging off the team helps us go up-market and reduce our reliance on commodities and low-value tourism.

Those involved in leading the teams have never been popular. They’ve always been difficult people to work with. Peter Blake, Russell Coutts, and Grant Dalton have never, in the end, had good reputations or popular reputations—I know how they feel—in New Zealand. All have been accused of financial irregularities; never has there been the evidence.

Returning with Helen Clark from Sir Peter’s funeral led to an incident which probably put my career at biggest risk—and, given one or two incidents I’ve been involved in, that’s saying quite a lot. We were on a Virgin 747 that had been refurbished—it was actually an old Air New Zealand one, with some of the first lie-down business-class seats. I woke in the middle of the night and saw the Diplomatic Protection Service officer winking at me. I presumed he’d woken me up. I was in what might be described as a compromising position. We hadn’t put the barrier up between the beds. I gently extricated myself, and if Helen noticed, she was kind enough to never mention it.

The time has come for me to say farewell. I’ve experienced all the highs and lows that politics gives and takes. Others will judge whether New Zealand is more inclusive, more prosperous, and a better country, and my role in that, but, looking around me, I know that the people who are here will make it a better future. Hei konei rā. [Applause]

Waiata

The House adjourned at 5.03 p.m.