Valedictory Statements — Celia Wade-Brown

Tēnā koe e te Māngai o te Whare. E ngā hoa, e rau rangatira mā, e ngā iwi o ngā hau e whā, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa. Ngā mihi o te Wiki o te Reo Māori ki a koutou katoa.

[Authorised translation to be inserted by the Hansard Office.]

I have only been in this House for five minutes compared to many of you—though I haven’t been told to go back to my own country. Thank you, Aotearoa, for letting this immigrant become a councillor, a mayor, and now an MP. I have been allowed to belong, but belonging is being made harder.

Let’s start with voting—with who’s included. We are truly proud of being the first country to achieve women’s suffrage. We should be equally proud that in 1975, this Parliament extended the right to vote to everyone who can live here indefinitely. Many countries are less generous than New Zealand about dual citizenship, so people genuinely committed to living here may not wish to relinquish their first passport. These are many of our nurses, our surgeons, our early childhood teachers. Shame on anyone who wants to narrow our democracy further by restricting who can vote. I started with the right to vote because today is the International Day of Democracy.

There are two more threads I want to draw on for both politics and my personal life. The first is Predator Free. For 20 years, I have been kayaking out to Taputeranga Island, on Wellington’s south coast, to kill rats and protect the lizards and seabirds that live there. In the 1990s, I led a Wellington City Council working group that examined the feasibility of the then Karori Sanctuary. We gave it a big tick. Reserves have been planted, tracks created, and the birds have flown out of Zealandia to recolonise the city. My final signature as mayor was on the Predator Free agreement between two councils and the NEXT Foundation.

Since then, I served six years on the board of Predator Free Wellington. The professional and community effort has been extraordinary. That mahi is underfunded across the country—especially as Jobs for Nature was canned. As the Greens’ Predator Free spokesperson, I’ve taken time to meet groups working around the motu. My popular Cat Management Bill still languishes in the ballot tin. Several MPs have vowed to bring cat management forward next term—and maybe the existence of that bill encouraged the Minister of Conservation to put feral cats into the Predator Free 2050 Strategy. I will keep trapping and keep advocating for te taiao after I leave this building. Healthy nature is the foundation for all of us.

The second thread—you can probably guess this—is cycling. In 2008, this capital city agreed to a cycling plan, but there was zero budget. In 2009, I amended the budget to half a million dollars, and in 2010, advocates held a meeting called “Fix the Gap” to try to connect Petone and Ngauranga. That same year, I became mayor, and I cycled out to the airport to meet Hillary Clinton with my bike shorts hidden underneath my suit, which caused a bit of a furore. In 2013, the Rt Hon John Key opened the Remutaka cycleway and said it should really start in Wellington City—and I got into trouble with his comms staff because I let him ride my e-bike without a helmet. We now have the bones of a genuinely good network, and this year, the marvellous Te Ara Tupua opened, with Julie Anne Genter, Minister Bishop, and me first across once the ribbon was cut. Walkers, runners, and cyclists are loving this part of the Great Harbour Way.

Affordable living isn’t just about rent and kai; it’s about whether your family can get to school or work or to the shops without always needing a car. The “Great Rides” are a wild success, with 50 percent walkers and 50 percent cyclists supporting regional tourism. But recently, the Prime Minister said he was nervous about crossing Molesworth Street. There are two lanes of motor traffic, two lanes of parked cars, a signalised crossing just up the road, and one very terrifying cycle lane. But given the lack of public sympathy for his plight, the tide may be turning in the cycling culture wars.

Talking of culture, it has been a huge honour to join official visits to Rātana, to Waitangi, and to Koroneihana. Those are occasions that showcase leadership for 500 years, not just for the next election. As a Green MP, I came into this House committed to Te Tiriti. I have watched settlements pass here with unanimous support, but I have also seen division. In my very first summer in Wellington—the 1983-84 summer—I visited Tapu-te-Ranga Marae. I wonder if more Pākehā took up the invitation to step onto a marae, they might understand this remarkable, unique mechanism for social cohesion. Empowering marae resilience is for all of us.

Leadership has never rested on a handful of individuals. Representative democracy should not be the only way we make decisions—I mean, the Westminster system doesn’t work that well in Westminster—and it must not be allowed to further privilege the wealthy and the powerful. There is a long tradition—certainly in the Māori world; also in the Celtic world—of deliberative decision-making: getting people to reason things through, not simply counting votes every three years.

Our economy has grown more than a hundredfold since 1960, yet the gap between our lowest decile and our wealthiest has grown wider. Waiting for economic growth to fix that is wilful blindness. Affordable living must be a deliberate choice a country makes, not a myth of trickle-down hopes.

Other things got worse since the 1960s: the state of our climate, our biodiversity, child poverty, addictions, homelessness. What has got better includes exactly what some parties long to wind back: we have reduced stigmatism towards rainbow, takatāpui, and disabled communities. That’s progress worth defending.

I tremble a little for our mokopuna, and their mokopuna to come, as extreme rainfall, high winds, and warming oceans begin to trigger feedback loops. All of us bear some responsibility for those floods in Nepal, the heatwaves in Spain, and the wildfires in America. Individual action will never be enough, and neither will technology alone. We need systemic change in land use, transport, and science funding. This country has a far better future available for all of us if we cooperate, base decisions on evidence, and think seriously about consequences for future generations. Honest politics is just that: telling people the truth, unbiased by corporate donations, instead of promising them more while saying “no” to a fairer tax system.

I may have arrived here five minutes ago, but it wasn’t altogether an accidental journey. In 1996, I first put my name forward for Parliament—I don’t give up easily—on the Alliance list at a modest number 44. Then I campaigned for the Greens in London in 1999—that was a Rod Donald idea. In 2002, I ran in a collegial contest in Rongotai with Glenda Hughes and Annette King—and we actually agreed on a remarkable amount. The 2020 and 2023 Wairarapa campaigns were also mutually respectful, with the Hons Butterick and McAnulty swapping places, but always focused on policy, not personal attacks. Thank you to campaign managers Chrissie and Annie for those years. I wish Lauren Craig and the Wairarapa Party Vote Green team all the best. And a shoutout to all the local body politicians who are living through some tough times.

I want to record my huge respect for Julie Anne Genter, having run in Rongotai myself—and I came third. She won in 2023, and I expect her to win Wellington Bays again in November—and, of course, Tam in Wellington Central. But Julie Anne and I share an office that’s sort of a bicycle depot. You need some lights, you need a pump, and I will really miss cycling off with Julie Anne, either at 10 p.m. or midnight.

Midnight! Urgency has been misused. Our communities, our iwi, our students—they’ve all got plenty of wisdom to draw on. If we let the select committees do that, I think we’d have better legislation. For example, the modest lifejackets bill improved immensely from the first reading to its final passage because it wasn’t rushed. On the other hand, we’ve seen what happens when a contentious bill—or 30—is rushed through all stages. Winter energy payments, anyone?

My personal view is that a four-year term, with the Opposition chairing most select committees—not necessarily a majority; just chairing the select committees—would buy this House some breathing space. So would consulting—yes, consulting—on the Budget, the way local government already builds its long-term plans, and a higher threshold for urgency should be required. I look forward to a future Government that sees the four wellbeings as the point of central government and local government, and that honours Te Tiriti as a matter of course.

Now, to some thankyous. First, thank you to Alastair—who still refused to sit in the front row, but never mind—for standing by me through all these years, with coffee and hot water bottles as required. Thank you to our boys, who grew up in and around political campaigns and Green Party conferences. Ramsay and Jono can’t be here tonight, but I look forward to spending a lot more time with them, and with our grandson, Reid. Jono once asked me, “Mum, why do you always speak to people you don’t know?” That, my fellow MPs, is our superpower.

I thank Chlöe and Marama for their leadership, and my caucus colleagues for mutual support. Thank you to all our parliamentary staff: Kevin, Meg, Raewyn, Tom, Daniel, but all of you. Also, to our party staff and the volunteers around the country.

A huge thanks to Parliamentary Service, especially the outreach team and the library; our select committee clerks and advisers are awesome. Thank you to the House staff for keeping us always hydrated. Thanks to MPs and friends across the political spectrum, for the times we listened to each other. It’s really worthwhile.

Of course, there’s a lot of leadership outside this House, whether it’s Te Arikinui Kuini Nga wai hono i te po showing rangatahi what is possible; whether it’s Helmut Modlik reshaping democracy conversations; Max Rashbrooke, Catherine Knight, and Ganesh Ahirao helping us face inconvenient truths. But the important leadership comes from people who hold no title and no elected role. They’re the night shelter managers, the community leaders, the artists, the founders of new organisations working out how to reduce waste, to fix disease, and to make life better.

Why am I standing down, given my continuing passion for change? It isn’t my health—though I have to say an emergency appendectomy in May gave me a fright, but as the oldest woman in this House, I reckon I’m still reasonably fit. The reason is the calibre of our caucus, the calibre of our candidates: their energy, their commitment, and their willingness to be here at midnight.

I am going to spend time with my friends and family in our regenerating forest, and on some exciting expeditions on foot, on bike, and in my kayak. I’m going to enjoy November’s Wairarapa Walking Festival—you’re all welcome to book a walk—and I’m going to be chasing some pūtea for completing the Wairarapa Five Towns Trail, so don’t expect me to retire quietly. To those who have gone before and those who will come after: tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa.

Waiata—Purea Nei

Sitting suspended from 6.03 p.m. to 7.30 p.m.