Maiden Statements

Mr Speaker, I begin by congratulating you on your appointment. It is evident it is well deserved and affectionately accepted. In the brief moments I have been here, I recognise that your judgment, fairness, and humour will serve us well in both maintaining order and ensuring that all voices are respected, while allowing for robust and engaging debate.

I stand before you in this House today, acutely aware of both the privilege of my position and the responsibility. I reflect on the words of Jonah Lomu. When he was acknowledged for his humility, he responded that it is far better to have a seat at the back of the room and be called to the front, than the other way around. It is in my nature and foundational to my upbringing to value humility, so to enter this place with the honour of the appointment afforded to me, with a seat literally at the front of the room, has been unsettling. But I’m truly honoured to accept this position as one of service to those who have put their faith in me, and service to our nation and all its people.

On this point, I wish to acknowledge those to whom I owe this position. Firstly, to New Zealand First, my colleagues who stand beside me, and all those who gave up so much over the last three years to return us to Parliament. We truly are the party of hard-working Kiwi battlers, who welcomed me into the fold with encouragement, generosity of spirit, and friendship. The list is too vast to name you all, but I commit to you that I will dedicate my time here to realising the vision that we share.

But I will be clear: the success of New Zealand First comes through the leadership and strength of a man for whom I have the greatest admiration. The Rt Hon Winston Peters is without equal as a leader and a statesman. His vision, knowledge, wisdom, wit, and dignity will be essential as we navigate making the changes needed for this country.

I also cannot miss out my neighbour, the Hon Shane Jones. I know how much I have to learn, and I look forward to benefiting from your wise counsel, your courage, and your determination to navigate the rhetoric to deliver for New Zealanders.

To the Rt Hon Christopher Luxon, the Hon David Seymour, and the colleagues with whom we have formed a Government, I congratulate you all and look forward to continuing as we have started, working in the best interests of our wonderful country.

I acknowledge with respect all members in this House: those returning and those who stood in this House for the first time only recently. I fully appreciate now the commitment and dedication it takes to be in this place. It strikes me that there is so much more in common than many would believe. We are all here to serve, to give a voice to those we represent, and we are here to deliver on our promises. It is my hope that this common ground will serve us well as we navigate the work ahead.

Finally, I would like to acknowledge my family and friends who are here today. Thank you so much for standing with me. I won’t embarrass you by naming names, but you’re all part of my journey to this place. For some, you are my inspiration; for some, you are my safe haven; for some, you are my wisdom; and for some, you are my driving force. It is the simple lessons that you’ve given me: breathe, just breathe; that sometimes, digging a hole and working in the dirt is good for your soul; putting your shoulders back and looking people in the eye makes you strong; and after a tough day, a bag of chips and a lemonade can put things right again—and my dear friend Reihana, for saying, “Just get out there, girl.” Each of you bestow on me great gifts. You make me laugh, keep me grounded, and keep me focused.

But I do have to mention a couple of special people: Caity and Mitch. It has been my privilege to be your mum. I know how much you missed out on because I was always working. I remember how many times I have left you on the side of the road, waiting to be picked up, but you’ve always forgiven me, you’ve always stood by me, and you’ve challenged me, fought with me, and made me a better person. It is my great joy that not only do I get to love you as my children but I really like you as people.

I am aware I enter this House as somewhat of an anomaly. To be a first-time MP launched into this position is a very rare occurrence. My only experience with this place has been working in security, which is hardly a political credential.

It struck me as I took my seat in this House for the first time that this journey is no longer about me; it is about duty and responsibility. It is about service and accountability. It is about those who have gone before to pave the way and those who will follow after I leave. It is about the reverence and importance of this place, the tradition and respect it should be afforded. I will do my best to do justice to this great privilege.

I am a product of the strength and love of whānau, those that are here with me today and those across the world that I know are watching me now. I am one of six children, with my mother—who is here with me today—being just 17 and my father 22 when they married and started their family. My father was the son of a country schoolteacher and was himself one of seven children.

His mother, Renee Costello, descended from settlers who came here to this country in the 1860s. My grandmother was a tiny woman with unrivalled strength and intelligence. When I was a child, she was my quiet place to be. I could use up all my time talking of her achievements, of the seven children that she raised, and of my aunties and uncles and cousins, who have been an enormous part of my life. I know that from her I inherited my stubborn resolve to work hard, to work for those who depend on me, and to be the person who will sit quietly at the back of the room, observing and listening.

My father, John Costello, was lost to me five years ago. Despite being one of six, I know my siblings will agree that there was a special bond between him and me. He was a storyteller. He loved three things in his life with, I believe, equal passion: his family, the written word, and horse racing. He started his life as a journalist cadet, but after a few short years, combined his love of horse racing with his job. He considered himself the luckiest man alive to be paid to do what he loved.

He was the first journalist inducted into the Horse Racing Hall of Fame, he wrote Tapestry of Turf—The History of New Zealand Horse Racing, and was a champion for the industry. He will always have the last laugh, as he managed to get away with naming half of his children to have the initials of racing clubs before Mum found out and put a stop to it.

There were absolutely no airs and graces to him. He would drive into the members’ car park at Ellerslie racecourse with his beaten-up old Toyota Corolla, with different-coloured panels, without even noticing the fancy vehicles around him. He could walk into any public bar in this country and have a beer and spin a few yarns, and would greet everyone with the same level of respect. That is the gift he gave me: to see people for who they are as individuals and know that everyone has their own story that is worth listening to. There is not a day that passes that I do not think of him, and I cannot express how much I wish he was here today if for no other reason than to write this speech. I can feel him sitting above me, wanting to take out his red pen to correct my grammar and spelling.

As I said, my good fortune was family, and therefore I have to pay tribute to my mother and my tūpuna. My mother, Maryann Costello, not only gave me life but kept me alive. As a sickly kid, she rallied to do what she knew in her heart I needed. She made me strong; she literally taught me to breathe. It is her strength and warrior-like determination to provide for her family that has made me the person I am.

My grandparents, Hone Pane Tamati Waka Nene and Queen Esther-Louise Davis, were Māmā and Dangy to us. It was Dangy who we would trudge behind as he taught us how to find and harvest kai, and how that kai was then shared around to take care of our people. It was Māmā who would have a table of I don’t know how many children, my cousins, in her tiny kitchen and, magically, food would appear. Her grace, her dignity, her warm heart, and her wisdom made you know what unconditional love really meant.

It was my great-grandfather, Lou Davis, Popop, that hand-rolled a tennis court in the paddock and built a dirt floor shed for table tennis lit by Primus lamps. It was in that place that he trained champions who set records and represented New Zealand. A couple of them are here today. One news article I found aptly describes Popop. It says: “And you will know that he is Lou Davis, earnest champion of sport for youth and for the wellbeing of the Māori race.” This is another example of the legacy I have been given. Whether it is Māmā and Dangy, Māmādear and Popop, Poomama and Poopapa, Eru Nehua and Te Tawaka, I know by example what it means to do, not just talk.

I talk of my tūpuna, and of my whānau not to qualify for some credentials to be recognised as Māori. I know who I am and my strength comes from who has gone before and who are with me now. I tell this story because we are all a product of a journey that saw us come to this House. I am privileged to have lived my life with a connection to my hapū, to have spent my childhood on the land that generations before me walked and lived in Whakapara and Bland Bay.

I descend from Tapua, whose children were Tari, Patuone, and Tamati Waka Nene, the latter both being chiefs who signed Te Tiriti o Waitangi and, in so doing, became part of building the nation we now enjoy. This is our story, and my truth is from our lived history. I am Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Hau, and Ngāti Wai.

I am also a product of another family. I joined the police as a wide-eyed 20-year-old, and that was where I grew up. I did most of my service in South Auckland and worked my way through to becoming a detective-sergeant. Very early in my career, I was a delegate for the Police Association, advocating for better conditions and protections for my police family—eventually being elected by my peers as vice-president, working in that role with one of your Assistant Speakers, Greg O’Connor.

Since leaving the police, I have worked in security and construction. I have managed teams of up to 300 employees. I know what it takes to run a business and make it successful, and I know what it takes to get people to work together. I know the terror of wondering if I have done enough to make payroll this week, and the delight of seeing people you employed learn a trade and go on to successful careers. It has been in my nature, in my genes, and in my heart to strive to make a difference. I have lobbied against Government waste and lack of transparency, and to demand accountability. I have fought for New Zealanders to be treated equally before the law, rallying against a narrative of race-based division. I have defended the rights of exploited migrants, advocating for victims in vulnerable communities.

I see the task ahead is to show leadership in how we respect and accommodate difference while getting on with the job of finding practical solutions and not commentating on the problems. It is not to respond to those who have the loudest voice and who make the most noise; it is our job to restore balance and deliver outcomes. Like all police who leave the job, I have the stories; the faces that haunt you. I know the face of inhumanity, of cruelty, and suffering. I have seen fear, despair, and more death than I want to remember. But I have also witnessed bravery, selflessness, and compassion.

I understand people and I know how, in unity, amazing things can be achieved. As I look ahead, I know we need so much more than faux indignation and misplaced guilt that makes us paralysed from making progress. I will not tiptoe around the difficult conversations. I will not allow noise and rhetoric to distract from delivering on what we have promised. I will not allow the most vulnerable to be used as a bargaining chip to gain political relevance.

I will close with the words from my grandfather, Hone Pane Tamati Waka Nene Davis, who said over 35 years ago: I believe that racism among a people, and in a country such as ours, is an evil that must be completely eradicated from our midst, and replaced with a better love and understanding of our fellow men. Racism raises its ugly head in so many different areas that it causes friction between two worthy people—Māori and Pākehā—and may even go further and cause disruption between Māori and Māori. To add to this, it may even go further into a community and cause a rift in family relationships.

Where it causes the greatest havoc is when it enters into individuals who become distrustful, suspicious, and even antagonistic of their fellow men. This, in turn, following along a natural sequence, breeds violence. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the situation we are in today and the monster has entwined me in its evils. I will honour my grandfather’s words. This is my legacy, and for this legacy, I will make my stand in this House and for this country.

Thank you, Mr Speaker, and congratulations on your role as Speaker. I would like to begin with some acknowledgments. Thank you to Bruce Partridge, who’s in the gallery today, my Kaikōura campaign chair for the last three general elections. Bruce is a long-time New Zealand First supporter. The many hours we have spent campaigning at meetings, delivering pamphlets, and putting up hundreds of hoardings has today been rewarded. The reason for Bruce doing this work has been simple and it’s one I will not forget—as he says, it’s not for him, but for his children and grandchildren. He believes the New Zealand First Party has the right principles and policies for our future.

I would also like to thank the rest of my campaign committee, Bess and Greg Colquhoun, Jack Reddan, and Bill Holvey. For the hours you have volunteered over the years, I am for ever grateful. To the many supporters in the Kaikōura electorate, thank you. Jessica Bagge; for the political journey we have been on since 2010 when we were both elected to the Marlborough District Council. The many highs and lows along the way, you have continued to support my endeavours and I will be forever grateful for the belief you have in me.

The Rt Hon Winston Peters—the legend of New Zealand politics. You have my full respect for your hard work, energy, and drive to stand for what is right, and put New Zealand and New Zealanders first. A moment he may not recall, but one that I do, is from my younger years, of my late mother grabbing him and giving him a hug on the campaign trail on one of his early visits to Blenheim when the party was first formed.

The New Zealand First Board and President Julian Paul; thank you for your time and commitment to seeing New Zealand First returned to Parliament and now Government. And to the members and supporters of New Zealand First who have put your faith in myself and the New Zealand First caucus to represent your voice in Parliament, thank you.

My wife, Sally, and our four children—Jaxon, Paige, Dale, and Keira—your understanding of the many interrupted moments that occur from being a politician, where even the simple tasks of going to the supermarket can mean a long, drawn-out discussion on the politics of the day. To my wife, Sally, who said she would never marry a “suit”: well, you have! When we first married over 20 years ago, you will remember the early years of my rather bad dress habits of ripped Barker pants and jerseys, while working endless hours on the orchard to pay the bills. Even the consistent resistance to using a cellphone, and then my attachment to my old flip phone—so much has changed. With our recent achievement of both being elected at the same time to the Marlborough District Council, which is something rarely, if ever, heard of, I am so proud of your achievements.

I would like to acknowledge Sir Douglas Kidd, the 25th Speaker of the House of Representatives. He was an MP from 1978 to 2002. He represented the Marlborough and Kaikōura electorate from 1978 to 1999, and then was a list MP until his retirement in 2002. He was also one of the pioneers of the Marlborough aquaculture industry in the iconic Marlborough Sounds.

I would also like to acknowledge former MP Colin King, who served as the Kaikōura electorate MP from 2005 to 2014, who has been very supportive of my time in local body politics and my ventures into central government. And MP Stuart Smith, the current Kaikōura MP, for your commitment to the electorate, and as you often say when we are debating, that “politics is a contest of ideas”.

My wider family tree is difficult to explain at the best of times. What I would like to say is I have always been loved. My mum was, in her way, the greatest politician you would ever meet. She had a knack of knowing how to press someone’s buttons and the skill to walk away and watch the all-mighty eruption happen, while someone else would be taking the blame. Through no fault of my own, I don’t know exactly who my biological dad is, but I have two that say they are. One of those, who has now passed, would be super proud of this moment; the other is a local legend in his own right. The traits they both share is working the land and being practical, hard-working people.

In my early years until my late teens, I was raised in Rapaura in Marlborough, now known as the golden mile of the world-proclaimed Marlborough wine industry. My family owned multiple orchards and was heavily involved in exporting apples and cherries. As a young boy, I would spend endless hours picking fruit, helping in the packing shed or acting as the shopkeeper in our fruit stall. I attended a small rural school, Rapaura School, and played various sports, with cricket, athletics, and rugby being my favourites.

I then spent my college years at Marlborough Boys’ College. In Year 12 at college, I remember studying business studies and doing the Young Enterprise Scheme. We were tasked to set up a business and invent a new product. The inventing of a new product was lost on me, but the thought of making money did very much appeal. Soon I had organised our small group into selling fruit at the local markets. My teacher of the day didn’t seem to mind as we had sold shares in that business to get it up and running. When the final dividend was paid, with something like $100 return for every dollar invested, the teacher’s $5 investment looked very good. Instead of finishing the business, I decided to carry it on in a personal capacity, and 22 years later, I finished my weekly ritual at the Redwood markets but continue my fruit growing today with a horticultural block I am developing in Renwick.

I remember being in my garage, bagging fruit at the tail end of the global financial crisis, when it was suggested to me to stand for local council. Though I knew very little about local politics, I did have a lot of local media exposure with my time at the markets. I decided to run, and as no one else was standing against the incumbent mayor, it was suggested that would be a good platform to get some free coverage of my campaign. After a bit of study about local issues, such as locals missing out on tendering contracts, and closed-door council meetings, I was set for my campaign. The result was that I was the highest polling Blenheim Ward councillor, something I have achieved now five times in a row.

My early local government career was difficult and controversial. Obviously, standing for mayor may have helped to gain a seat as a councillor, but it also exposed me to the full force of some unhappy longstanding councillors and bureaucracy. Soon came attacks on me to put me in my place. Instead of being quiet and sitting on my hands, and keeping my mouth closed for the first term, I spoke out. Doomsday was about five months into my first term when discussing council tendering, when my comment replying to a question on whether council staff were tampering with tender papers, I replied “That could be the case.” The resulting report and conflict of this was something rarely experienced in Marlborough. Standing up for those who I saw had no voice or ability was my duty. The resulting report that cleared the council of wrongdoing did change the council, moving forward, for the better.

In 2017, I was a late inclusion to stand for New Zealand First in the Kaikōura electorate. The experience was fast paced and one I enjoyed. The ability then to tap into MPs in the 2017-2020 Government was appreciated. I thank Mark Patterson, especially, for your time and commitment. From my perspective, the New Zealand First caucus performed well and was the handbrake on bad ideas, and the accelerator for good ideas such as the Provincial Growth Fund. The Provincial Growth Fund in Marlborough helped to fund a number of incentives, including the now completed Blenheim Library. The Working for Nature programme was a great incentive for local jobs and the improving environmental outcomes.

After the disappointment of the general election in 2020, I was eager to help New Zealand First back into Parliament. I joined the New Zealand First Board in 2022 and developed the ground game blueprint that was rolled out in the 2023 campaign. The announcement of the New Zealand First list, and being placed at number six, with the successful election result, means I stand before you today.

Over my 14 years in local government, the past three years on council have been the most stressful and uncertain times. The constant and major reforms like three waters and many more, have taken a major toll on the relationship between councils and central government. The central government approach of “big brother knows best” needs to be seriously questioned. The constant demands of the previous Government in the case of Marlborough saw many councillors at the last local body elections retire, and the loss of many key council officials and staff who delivered vital services to the community. This is a constant cry from councils across New Zealand. The new Government has a major challenge to repair this relationship, and we need to work together as it is both local and central government’s roles to deliver positive outcomes for our constituents.

Consultation—the most rewarding aspect of being an elected member is hearing from your community. I have sat through many annual plans and long-term plans. Such processes can always be refined, but the importance of democracy and being heard is undeniable. The previous Government often called for submissions but, in many people’s views, did not take the time to hear or listen to what people had to say. Three waters reform was very much a case in point of “we know better than everyone else”. I look forward to my select committee work and hearing from New Zealanders. The thing for all of us to remember is to not take this process for granted.

Resource Management Act (RMA) reforms—I have been an RMA hearings commissioner since entering local body politics and have sat on hundreds of consents and really enjoyed the opportunity to hear and make decisions on some key Marlborough activities such as marine farming. The role of decision maker is very much dependent on the legislation and the case law to grant or decline an application. The RMA reforms proposed by the previous Government, I would need to question whether they streamlined that process or made it more difficult and complex than ever. The new legislation looks less user friendly.

What has happened to the concept of the average New Zealander being able to put together a resource consent without the help of costly consultants, and being able to submit this to your local council? The answer to that is that the consenting regime has become a gravy train for consultants and lawyers. It is often a money game and not about the environment. I think of growth industries such as aquaculture, which needs a much more permissive status. We need to back opportunities that will deliver growth potential, high-paying jobs, and increase our export earnings. I have witnessed the worst of the RMA when those wanting to expand or try something new were stonewalled by legislation and environmental scaremongering.

Offshore aquaculture should be an industry we encourage and grow. The major hurdles we have seen on recent applications are something I want to see legislation change on. When offshore farming is being halted by amenity values and outstanding natural landscapes, one needs to question who benefits from those outcomes. Many of those remote sites will never be seen by the majority of New Zealanders, so to stop development on amenity or landscape values, in my view, needs to be reconsidered.

In Māori affairs, I see us all as one. I find it very difficult with the current tensions between some Māori and Pākehā. We all need to work together. In my lifetime, we all had the same opportunities, and it’s what one does with those opportunities that should define us. I want us to move forward as one, but we seem to be a country with an identity crisis. How we resolve those tensions of the past is something many New Zealanders are struggling with. In my time in Parliament, I would like to think we will all come closer to being “Kiwis” regardless of how long some of us have been here for.

With our rural regions and primary production, it is important that we don’t forget that our rural regions account for much of the country’s GDP. If our rural regions are supported, our economy will grow. Investing in infrastructure—whether that be road, rail, flood protection, or strategic assets—is good investment in the health of our rural regions.

Finally, the horse racing industry: my favourite pastime is harness racing. I have a fond memory of going to the Marlborough races with my family when I was young. The atmosphere, mingling with the people on course, and the thrill of the odd win is something I enjoy. For a lot of New Zealanders, a day out at the races is a symbol of New Zealand’s culture. I look forward to being back on course over the summer holidays to hear the race calls of Matt Cross and get in amongst the racing community.

Thank you, Mr Speaker, for this opportunity today. I look forward to my new role and standing up for the issues that are important to New Zealanders and New Zealand First.

Thank you, Mr Speaker, and can I join all the other previous speakers in congratulating you on your new role. I also want to congratulate all the other members in this House for being elected to this House, especially those of you of the class of 2023, and just listening to some of the maiden speeches we’ve already heard, gosh, you are going to make an immense contribution to this House and to this country.

I also want to congratulate the Rt Hon Winston Peters, the Hon Shane Jones, and the dedicated team at the heart of New Zealand First. You’ve all given up so much and worked so hard to bring New Zealand First back to this House, and I want to congratulate all the New Zealand First team, supporters, and candidates right across the country. My personal thanks to the New Zealand First Wellington hub team, many of whom are in the audience tonight, for your hard work and wonderful support during the campaign. New Zealand First was written off by many, but, Winston, you have packed out halls up and down the land. You have achieved what some called a political miracle, and tonight you have brought New Zealand First back into this House. Even Lazarus could do it only once; New Zealand First has done it twice.

Ka mihi ahau ki tēnei Whare, te Whare kōrero i ngā whakatau nui. [I acknowledge this House, the House that discusses the major decisions.] I salute this House where many great decisions have been made. I salute those who have gone before us and on whose shoulders we stand. We now shoulder the responsibility for setting the platform for those who will come after. I salute those whose courageous service of our country is recognised in the famous names on the walls around us. They fought and sacrificed so that we and other nations might live in freedom and peace. And I salute those of you, my colleagues, who have themselves served our country with courage and sacrifice. Thank you.

We all come here to make a difference. We come here because we care. We care very much about this beautiful country. We care about our home. I’m proud to be a member of a Government that will work collaboratively, three teams in one, together on behalf of New Zealanders to make the changes that our country needs to be a Government of delivery. But, growing up, I had absolutely no interest whatsoever in politics. I don’t even recall politics being talked about round our family table, and my children now, when we talk politics, they just say, “Sigh.” and “Can you stop, please?”

Our childhood was pretty comfortable. Mum and Dad were good, honest, hard-working, supportive, suburban parents who taught us the values of honesty, hard work, thrift, service, and to treat others as you would have them treat you. We were part of several lovely communities full of other lovely young families. However, Mum and Dad had a much tougher start to life. Mum, who’s in the gallery today, and Dad, who’s sadly no longer with us, both grew up in London’s working-class East Ham during the Depression and the Second World War. As young children, both were evacuated. Dad at least got to be evacuated with his family; Mum’s father, though, was an engineer and he had to stay to keep the power network on as the bombs fell, so Mum was evacuated with her two-year-old sister, and mother. Picture a little family at the railway station, not too sure where they were going or who would take them in. Money was always tight, and it became too expensive to keep the family going in two places, so they had to return to London to finish the war together in East Ham. Both Mum and Dad recorded separate stories about bombs landing on the houses next door.

But I share this part of my family story also to make the point that we human beings aspire to a better life. Most of us work diligently to achieve that. Dad worked for Shell, as his father had before him, and studied for a degree in the evenings. Career options were limited, especially for women. Mum was told by her father that university was unaffordable, and so she trained as a primary school teacher, but she did get that degree later in life. My parents married and moved to a new life in the county of Kent, south-east of London, where my brother, my sister, and I were born. It’s a beautiful area, if you haven’t visited it, full of history, castles, and stunning villages, and a whacking great motorway and railway to the continent.

I’d only just started school when we made another much longer move. Dad was wanted by Shell to help run the new Marsden Point Oil Refinery, and so we moved to New Zealand, first to Whangārei and then to Wellington. After four years, Shell wanted Dad back in London, but it wasn’t long before the lure of a better life in New Zealand brought us back to Wellington—happily, this time for good. Mum was a primary school teacher and Dad ran our coastal oil tankers and fuel storage system. His job was to ensure that every part of the country always had the necessary supplies of each type of product—fossil fuels, of course. We enjoyed a good childhood, although it did mean eight different primary schools in eight years—and no, I wasn’t kicked out of any of them.

In the brief time I’ve been in this House, I’ve already heard a lot of reference to Rogernomics, none of it very positive. It was Rogernomics that got me to take notice of politics. It was that topsy-turvy political period when the left became the right and the right wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. By the time Rogernomics hit New Zealand, I was teaching in Nelson, I’d already graduated from Victoria University and Christchurch Teachers College. I’d worked in hospitality—I’ve seen that’s been raised in the last couple of days—during holidays, evenings, and weekends; spent time in the naval reserve; and had a couple of years working in the heady world of investment finance.

I’m sure we all know the Lange-Douglas Government story: radical, rapid, crash-through political changes; one of the most protected, regulated State-dominated economies transformed almost overnight into the most open free-market economy anywhere. Changes were needed—yeah, I see the ACT guys like it; the Labour guys don’t, ha, ha! Funny that—but the speed and brutality came at enormous cost to people. Inflation, interest rates, and the Kiwi dollar all soared. Mortgage rates touched an eye-watering 20 percent. The sharemarket soared and then crashed just two months after Labour was re-elected—I wonder, if it’d been the other way round, if they’d have been re-elected. There were massive redundancies across the public sector. Rail was saved by sacking three-quarters of the staff. Then, after being re-elected, Labour went on a massive State asset sale programme, and I’m not sure that they signalled that very clearly. Many manufacturers went to the wall. The experience taught me a number of things: to dislike government by ideology, to dislike hidden agendas, and that the checks and balances in our system are weak.

But rather than grumble, I thought I’d join the left-wing party, and joined the National Party. I was the youngest party member in the Nelson electorate by about 50 years, so what did they do? They promptly made me the electorate chairman.

After teaching, I had two brilliant years on a great Kiwi OE, working and travelling but keeping a close eye on what was going on back home. I was a camp director in the USA, worked on an Israeli moshav, in a Swiss hotel, in London offices, and on building sites.

I got back just in time for the 1990 election. Labour was swept out of office, FPP was shortly replaced by MMP, and I think that was the Kiwis saying that they wanted to reduce the unbridled power of single-party Governments and wanted minority voices to be heard.

I got my first introduction to this House, a job in the new National Government’s parliamentary research unit, and I’d like to acknowledge my former boss Wayne Eagleson, who’s in the gallery.

I’ve always had a very strong involvement in community. In 1992, I was invited to stand for election to the Wellington City Council and was privileged to be elected. I might also say I had the privilege of standing alongside an even younger James Shaw. He didn’t make it. I’m not sure who got the booby prize on that one. I stood on three values, values which remain core to me today: authentic listening, careful use of public money, and caring for the environment. It was a privilege to serve 10 consecutive terms on the council—the last of them as mayor. It’s effectively half of my lifetime. I’m deeply grateful to the many thousands of Wellingtonians who voted for me over so many years and, in this election, to the good people of Mana. Though I’m now a list MP, I know very well what it is to help thousands of constituents with all manner of issues. I know what it is, Jamie, for that supermarket shop or the walk through town to take twice as long because there are always people to talk to. I love that; I’m not sure that my wife is so keen.

I know what it is to work with my community to drive projects and programmes, to run events and festivals, to spearhead the development of many, many community facilities like parks, pools, and libraries. I know what it is to fight with my community against the odds on behalf of your community when the council was not listening to them. And I recognise some of my friends from the Miramar community in the gallery for their courage in fighting together against city hall.

But together on the council we made a huge difference to the city. We built sewage treatment plants, built the railyards stadium, opened up the waterfront, supported the opening of Te Papa, built a new airport terminal and a beautiful convention centre. We supported the emergence of new creative industries, like film and digital tech. We liberalised the planning rules to energise the central city. And for several years, Wellington CBD was the fastest-growing population area in the whole of New Zealand. The once-grey, walk-short city became a centre of fashion, film, arts, culture, and events, and a significant tourism destination. We led the way in protecting, restoring, and strengthening heritage buildings. We grew public transport use after reversing its long-term decline.

But if there is one thing I’m personally particularly proud of as a councillor and as a mayor, it is in helping spearhead Wellington’s stunning environmental transformation. I can remember as a parliamentary researcher reading the then new Ministry for the Environment’s first state of the environment report. It was depressing. Unique biodiversity evolved over 70 million years in isolation was in steady and continuous decline. That began with Māori settlement, accelerated with European arrival, and, 150 years on, it was still getting worse.

But we could do something about it. Karori Sanctuary, now Zealandia, was Jim Lynch’s crazy, never-been-done-before idea to not just reduce environmental decline but to turn it around to make the environment better. The mad idea was for an innovative new-design fence around a former water reservoir to eradicate introduced pests and restore native species that were then largely confined to offshore islands. I was part of the original steering committee, a foundation trustee, and a long-time volunteer. The early journey was often tough. There were many doubters, people who said we couldn’t do it, and many roadblocks. But over time, it has truly taken flight. It is now, without doubt, a success—much loved, internationally recognised—a success for the environment, for education, for science, tourism, culture, and an amazing community builder. Zealandia has a staggering 16,000 members paid up and 600 active volunteers. And I’d like to recognise some of the team, particularly Phil Meyer in the gallery, who’s chaired the trust for the last six years.

As a councillor, I also drove the charge to piece by piece acquire, protect, and revegetate ridgelines right around the city fringe. Over 30 years, that has created one of the world’s very best greenbelts. The city’s wild reserve network is not quite complete, but it’s getting very close. And I also recognise the Hon Grant Robertson there for his work supporting the town belt.

And Wellingtonians in their thousands have come together to contribute to this world-leading restoration journey, trapping, planting, weeding. Wellington’s Miramar Peninsula has recently become the first urban area on the planet to eradicate introduced predators, including rats. The collective result of this kaitiakitanga is a very rare phenomenon, a city where wildlife is dramatically improving, and other cities are now copying our mahi, and that is awesome.

In some ways, that brings me full circle. Another one-party Labour Government inspired me to return to this House, and I thank New Zealand First for giving me that opportunity. There will be plenty of opportunities to debate our current condition but, suffice to say, across so many aspects of our society, demonstrably, measurably, we were going backwards, and that is why New Zealanders voted for change.

I expressed my dislike earlier of hidden agendas—saying one thing and doing another—but I think that this Government has been elected with a very clear mandate, and the coalition agreements articulate that very closely, and the 100-day plan is putting the first stage of that into delivery.

I want to finish off with two big areas where I think we need to make a difference. The first of those is in lifting our economic performance. New Zealanders, for the most part, work really hard, but that is not enough. We’ve fallen so far behind other countries. In the 1950s, some assessments had New Zealanders enjoying the world’s third-highest per capita incomes, equivalent to Switzerland. Today, our incomes are 66 percent lower than the Swiss, and we rank only in the mid-30s. We are 20 percent below Australia, and it matters. Imagine if everyone earned 66 percent more. We probably wouldn’t be having half the arguments we do. It matters to what public services we can afford. It matters to how much we are paid. It matters to keeping the skilled people we cannot afford to lose to higher wages and higher living standards to other countries.

But to create higher incomes, we must be more productive and grow the output per hour worked. We cannot borrow our way to wealth. We cannot redistribute our way to prosperity. This is not a zero-sum game. This Government is very focused on raising productivity. We need to be smarter; invest more in technology, research, and development; and support emerging creative businesses better. We need to grow savings and investment and reduce the handbrake of collective indebtedness. We need to reduce the burden of excessive regulation and heavy taxation.

I hear too often the stories of businesses and individuals frustrated, delayed, and financially impacted by slow, often uncaring responses from central or local government. That needs to change because time is money. We need to spend every tax dollar well. We need to plan better for the critical long-term issues, like infrastructure, immigration, urban planning, and superannuation. We must reverse falling school achievement standards and fix the tertiary sector. Our health sector is struggling and, I think, too often siloed. We’ve turned our back on prospective employees over the last three years. We’ve got a lot of work to do there.

The other big challenge we have is bringing our people back together. The concept of a team of 5 million together facing the common foe of COVID was powerful, emotional, and uniting. But less than three years later, poll after poll shows we are more divided than ever: COVID mandates, co-governance, rural against urban, gender issues, and generation against generation over housing. Social cohesion is essential. I spoke earlier of the need for authentic listening and for greater protections being built into our Government system.

The most special part of being mayor of our great capital city was working right across the diversity of our community, building a new relationship with our mana whenua iwi, working with our Interfaith Council, some of whom are in the gallery today, and they were internationally honoured for their efforts in showcasing different faiths to build friendship and understanding, following the awful events of 15 March 2019. During the parliamentary protest, I engaged with protesters, police, politicians, and press, and it was very special also to work with the LBGTQI+ community, including honouring community pioneers and supporting community at a vulnerable time. I loved working across our diverse ethnic communities, working with our disability community and with our diplomatic community, some of whom are in the audience tonight. Citizenship ceremonies were a highlight. My message to our new citizens was always that they should continue to treasure their original cultures while embracing their new one.

Our task is to bring people together, and I can say it no better than this: “Mā te rongo, ka mōhio. Mā te mōhio, ka mārama. Mā te mārama, ka mātau. Mā te mātau, ka ora.” Through listening comes awareness. Through awareness comes understanding. Through understanding comes knowledge. Through knowledge comes life and wellbeing.

There will be bumps along the way, but through kōrero and whakarongo, I believe we can be the best multicultural nation in the world. And there is an apposite African proverb about the journey: if you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together. As a nation, if we walk together on the things that matter, we will go far.

And I want to finish off with my most important thanks. That is to my children, Brendon and Ella, and to my darling wife, Ann. Members here will know, or will come to know, that our families give up so much when a partner or parent is in political life. I’ve been a councillor, a mayor, and now an MP for Brendon and Ella’s entire life and all of our married life. The hours are often long. Work is often taken home; so, sometimes, is the stress. You’re often away from your families. You’re almost never off duty. Social conversation so often turns to politics. The media can be harsh, judgmental, and often unfair.

We politicians can grow a thick skin, but we’re not invulnerable. But our families often feel it the more. Ann, Brendon, and Ella, thank you so much for your support and for your love. I love you very much. Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa.

Thank you, Mr Speaker. Dobar dan, poštovane dame i poštovana gospodo! Good afternoon. I begin my maiden speech today by congratulating you on your election to the Chair. I welcome my husband Grant, who is with my two brothers—Zeljan and Antoni—they are both present here today. I have a third brother, Nick, who was unable to be here today.

There are so many people to thank. To my supporters and volunteers, all who worked so selflessly—at times during all hours of the night. To my fellow candidates and colleagues, for whom I have the deepest respect, thank you all for your support. To all the loyal members of New Zealand First—so many working behind the scenes. Some of you have worked tirelessly for decades for the party. Your dedication and commitment have contributed to why we stand here today to represent New Zealand First and the people of New Zealand.

It is also of importance that I respectfully honour my late mother and father, Smiljan and Pavica Unkovich. It was in 1958 that my young parents—then only 26 and 27—with their first-born, Zeljan, made the bold move to leave their homeland of Croatia and sail to the other side of the world in the hope of a better life. Despite their uncertainty, they left behind their family and everything they knew to settle in Dargaville, Northland, as dairy farmers, soon affectionately being known as Ta Re Ra’s.

Unable to speak the language, their early years as immigrants were hard. My eldest brother recalls many a night hearing my parents both weep, unsettled in their new life, and grieving the family they left behind. Having grown up during the Second World War and despite being relatively young, my parents were incredibly resilient. They knew how to work hard, and they ensured their children learnt that same lesson.

It was the fire that burned our house to the ground—losing nearly everything—that was the catalyst for my parents to make the decision to leave Northland and move to Auckland, just prior to my eighth birthday, and where I have for the past 50 years called home. It is said that people with hope can endure incredible burdens, and this hope for a better life for their children was what my parents held on to during those difficult first years. They never gave up. Thank you, Mama i Tata, for the sacrifices you made for us.

It is said that the quality of your life is due to the quality of your decisions. My life has been a series of pivotal decisions, each has contributed to this little girl from the farm now having the privilege of standing here today. My first significant decision was at the early age of 14, when, at the end of my fourth form year, I came home with a substandard school report and received a loud, animated telling off from my mother. Not having a higher education, my parents wanted more for their children. They both worked physically very hard; firstly, on the farm, then Tata as a commercial fisherman and the remainder of his working life as a drainlayer. Mama spent countless hours sitting at a commercial sewing machine or standing at a kitchen bench. Her sadness on this day was not because of my poor grades, but because she knew I could do better, and here I was, possibly wasting the opportunity of the education that was available to me in this great country. Clouded with a lack of belief in myself and my academic abilities, I allowed this internal narrative to limit my efforts, and it showed in my results.

It was my mother’s powerful words on this day and her belief in me that was the leverage I needed to make the decision to work hard and at least try. I knew that the cost of not making this choice would be far greater. Which is why I’m committed, during my time in Parliament, alongside my fellow colleagues, to take heed and do what we can to reverse the declining outcomes we are seeing in our education system; to be a voice for our children and youth, who are our future; to show them, and their parents if necessary, that it is possible to choose a different path; and to break one’s self-defeating patterns, to see one’s worth, and, in time, to experience what is possible for their future. One pivotal decision could completely change the trajectory of their lives, as it did for me.

The following year, I showed up for school. I surrounded myself with a new set of friends, I worked hard, and I went on to excel during the remainder of my high school years. Which is why I again share this message to our youth—that, yes, you can, and what can happen for others can also happen for you.

By the age of 20, I completed my Bachelor of Commerce degree at Auckland University, became an auditor, which was then followed by four years in the corporate world. Soon after, I gained my membership to the New Zealand Institute of Chartered Accountants. At 28, I chose self-employment, setting up my private consultancy practice. My timing was perfect, as it coincided with the launch of Mind Your Own Business in NZ, the new accounting software package. My practice grew very quickly as I helped sell, install, and train hundreds of business owners on how to transfer their paper accounting ledgers to a fully computerised system. My coaching career also commenced at this time, as many of my clients also wanted help with matters of the heart.

My own love of personal development commenced during times of self-doubt as a teenager. It was, however, when deep grief first knocked on my door in my mid-thirties that led me to obtain my Diploma in Counselling and, subsequently, life and business coaching certifications, becoming a member of the International Coaching Federation. Little did I know that my brief dance with grief during this decade was but a taste of what was to follow when, at 40, my then husband Philip Morrow was diagnosed with terminal cancer and passed away five months later. It was on the day of Phil’s funeral that I declared that no matter the extent of suffering that was ahead, I would search for meaning from this event and find purpose again and remain committed to being of service to others.

This significant life event, and the many that have followed during the past two decades, are one of the reasons I stand here today as a new parliamentarian and am so driven to advocate for mental health. Regardless of age, profession, or status, a decline in mental health can visit or revisit any of us without notice at any time. Financial stress, eating disorders, addictions, crippling loneliness, and unresolved grief are but a handful of what so many are silently struggling with in today’s world. Many want help. However, it is either unavailable or unaffordable—some feeling too ashamed to even admit to family that they are suffering and they try to keep up with the “she’ll be right” attitude, until one day all is not all right.

I was so fortunate to have support during my darkest hours. Many do not have this luxury, and I am speaking openly here today to those who are resonating with my message. Tell someone, anyone. It was again my mother who gave me the greatest advice I have ever received, and what I have shared with my clients ever since, and I will share it with you today. During one of the lowest points in my life, she said to me in her soft Croatian voice, “Tanya, you have got to make yourself happy.” Actually, it wasn’t so soft. She went “Tanya, you’ve got to make yourself happy!”

A part of me wanted to laugh out loud, as here I was, having read all the books and being educated in the field, and here was my mother, with a very simple education and not able to command the English language, who gave me the sagest advice: that happiness was an inside job and this choice was up to me. And right now, she’d be saying to me, “Tanya, don’t you cry.”, so I’m not going to cry. It was at that moment I once again made the decision to get back up again, to take personal responsibility for my life, and, no matter what, to choose joy over suffering.

My professional career since that time has been a fulfilling mix of finance, writing, speaking, and executive coaching. I have published four books on mental health, resilience, and how to overcome adversity, and one day I plan to write more.

My journey into politics was once again a decision. Just as I knew two decades earlier that there was a place for me to contribute to mankind, I knew on a deep level that this was my next chapter to a life of service. One of the other areas I’m so incredibly passionate about—and one of the many reasons that drew me to—New Zealand First, is my respect and love for the seniors in our community. It is no secret that my parents were everything to me, and walking beside them during the past decade of their lives dramatically increased my awareness of what it must be like for them and other seniors as they enter this stage of their lives. It served as a reminder that one day this, too, will be me—all of us. Our elders, our seniors have worked incredibly hard. They deserve care, respect, and, most importantly, they deserve human connection. I will work tirelessly to ensure our seniors are not forgotten.

Someone once wisely said to me as a teenager that the most important thing one can do in our lives is to always honour our parents, to be at peace and to be united with them. He then added that this would enable us to be more united and at peace with others, especially ourselves. This message of unity is one I have continuously written and spoken about, and one I wish to speak of, as I close my statement today, as it is my main answer when asked “Why politics, Tanya?”

A house divided cannot stand, whether it be within a marriage, a family, a community, or a country. Unfortunately, it is often a lesson not learnt, until we face our own mortality—or that of a loved one—and we see that much of what divided us in the first place was not worth the precious time wasted. Yes, our country now faces so many hurdles to overcome, costing our nation and our communities more than we could imagine. However, the cost of not bringing the people together might just be our real crisis. We, the people of New Zealand, now have a choice.

I am of the belief we are not made for comfort, but for greatness, and one of the highlights of my professional career was to have mentors whom I would class as extraordinary humans. Having the privilege of being part of the Tony Robbins international coaching team meant I was always surrounded by fellow coaches and clients who always strived to live at their highest standard.

Which leads me to why I would now like to pay proper tribute to the Rt Hon Winston Peters and the Hon Shane Jones. I am sure I speak for my fellow colleagues here today, to say how honoured I feel to now have you both as mentors. Thank you for your courage, thank you for leading by example, thank you for always having our back as a team, and thank you for your commitment to our country. On a lighter note, the humour and one-liners you bring are second to none and are a great reminder to us all of the saying that a day without laughter is a day wasted.

Now as a final word, I would again like to mention my husband, Grant Anderson. We met later in life, when many of us show up with that little bit of extra baggage; mine was called grief. Thank you for your patience as I slowly unpacked mine. You have been my greatest cheerleader on every venture, especially on this most recent path to politics. However, Grant, most importantly, you were a wonderful son-in-law and you honoured my mother and father as if they were your own, especially during those most difficult recent years. I feel unspeakably grateful that you now stand beside me and all of my colleagues here today on this most important journey, as we now have the privilege to serve the people of New Zealand. Hvala Vam and thank you.

Members, I don’t want to interrupt the congratulations to Tanya—carry on, Tanya—but I just think, for a bit of smooth operation, I now declare the House in committee for further consideration of the Land Transport (Clean Vehicle Discount Scheme Repeal) Amendment Bill.