Valedictory Statements — Greg O’Connor

A valedictory’s a oncer,

A privilege experienced by few,

So I thought consigning it to verse

Would afford the moment its due.

There were other options,

Plenty of genres I could tap,

I thought it might test the Speaker’s patience,

If I’d presented today in rap.

So, bow out I do before you,

A humbling number have returned the RSVP.

Not all MPs are afforded this privilege,

Many a parliamentary exit is involuntary.

I arrived nine years past.

With Ōhāriu’s blessing,

Though with a small-enough margin,

That kept us till final count guessing.

To the good folk of my electorate,

I’ll always remain beholden,

Great local support,

Does the MP on their behalf embolden.

An electorate dominated by Mount Kaukau,

The tower atop piercing the sky,

Which thanks to pest-free volunteers

Now has an increasingly native bird cry.

Being elected in to this House,

And sitting up in the big Chair,

Has allowed use of the living and learning,

That’s gone into the making of this grey hair.

However, lessons and skills learnt before here,

Only get us in the door.

The real honing of one’s political craft,

Starts on this Chamber’s floor.

Most arrive as high achievers,

And a desire to improve our world.

With a determination to stand apart,

When insults and vitriols hurled.

Such ideology seldom lasts,

Beyond the first derisory interjection.

The aroha quickly melts away,

With utu planned back in that direction.

But as I learnt as a young cop,

No lesson comes without pain.

Learning to hold one’s own

Is how we best for our constituents gain.

There’s those who abhor the division,

Believing it should all be done by consensus.

Of course, removing robust debate

Would leave half the electorate defenceless.

In fact, there’s plenty of times we largely agree;

It’s around philosophical differences we clash.

Without an outlet for such digression of belief,

Democracy will have done its dash.

I’ve had a privileged position in this place,

Arbitrating from the Speaker’s Chair,

In a world that’s partisan and siloed,

An ideal place to each argument hear.

You see much more while presiding;

There’s no place for members to hide.

There are workhorses who carry a big load,

The odd one happy to be along for the ride.

The MP demographic is pretty reflective,

With personalities from quiet to loud.

We look pretty much like the new New Zealand,

Though ’round one end of Myers-Briggs we crowd.

But for all that diversity, it’s still down to numbers,

However strongly the argument you mount,

Because to successfully prosecute your cause here,

You need to learn how to count.

And as MMP matures

And Kiwis become attuned to its power,

Mixes and matches of political persuasions

Are the reality of our politics now.

And while the theatre of question time

Is the public window to Parliament’s soul,

Cross-party relationships are built outside here,

Even ignoring results of the latest poll.

Select committees and parliamentary trips,

Combined with sporting and cultural occasions,

Provide cross-party opportunities for dialogue,

And in my case numerous abrasions.

I dragged this broken old body

Off to parliamentary rugby and cricket

For the opportunity of cross-party mixing,

Though I did claim an ex - Black Caps’ wicket.

—I should’ve invited Dion Nash here today.

So I reflect on my time in this place.

Nine years has gone incredibly fast,

Proudly part of a mighty continuum

Which us all will long outlast.

I did manage a member’s bill

That passed through the House with ease,

A law to curtail paedophiles’ opportunities

To offend against kids overseas.

Ultimately, Parliament’s job is to pass laws,

So I suppose in that regard I had some success,

But it’s the work we do for our constituents

That rarely gets into the press.

Without a doubt, it’s our staff members

Who are the heroes of answering the constituent’s call.

Leanne’s been with me from the start.

Actually, I found and recruited her in Johnsonville mall.

She’d run a pub in Johnsonville,

So knew the local rogues, some here today.

That’s you, Kerry, Alan, Barry, Jono.

She had kids at the local schools,

So around the electorate knew her way.

She stayed with me all nine years,

While Sophia taught her political nous.

Knowing she always had my electorate back

Allowed me to concentrate on my work in this House.

We got her husband, John, voting for the first time ever.

Honestly, I said, “Vote for whoever you like.”

But her real above and beyond

Was babysitting my disabled son, Mike.

Back to the topic of that mall,

I met my office landlady in exactly the same spot.

Within a month of being elected,

I had secured staff and a location hot.

But while that mall proved a fertile recruiting ground,

Sadly, attempts to secure a rebuild have been frustrated.

In any survey of what annoys my locals,

“That bloody mall” is always top rated.

The powers of a local MP

Can’t override land-banking calls.

As Ronald Reagan would say to the Aussie owners,

“Stride, bulldoze down those walls.”

Now, sadly, I relinquish my Ōhāriu role,

The electorate cruelly dissolved with the stroke of a pen.

Normally when an MP says they lost their seat,

Some beggar has nicked it off of them.

In my case it’s disappeared,

Gone to the graveyard of electorates past.

I wonder, if it was held by a senior Minister,

Whether the axe would’ve come down as fast!

Ōhāriu’s now divided in three,

Leaving locals to work out their new voting zone.

Of course, it’ll now take three MPs

To do the job I used to do on my own.

I started my Police career up in Ōhāriu

Trying to keep northern streets free of crime,

A slightly broader mandate as an MP,

But people’s needs don’t seem to change with time.

The ethnic make-up is now way more diverse,

And the housing’s chomped up the farms,

But if there’s one place that’s defied change,

It’s my mates in the Newlands Arms.

A true battlers’ pub in a family suburb called Newlands,

Which looks very much like our new human fauna,

There’s an oasis of our past in its midst

Affectionately known as “Cobweb Corner”.

Being comfortable in cafes and churches,

With my wee red car announcing I’m around,

Meant I didn’t need to hang around the office

For citizens to know where I was to be found.

But most humbling of all,

When I have my son Michael in tow,

Is that his sometimes intrusive and inquisitive nature

Could be challenging for those who didn’t know.

But he was welcomed wherever we went,

On sports fields and public meetings by all folk.

I even once had the Chinese ambassador

Keeping him preoccupied while I spoke.

He proves people are inherently good,

Understanding there are those who will never survive on their own,

From the generous Sir Mark and Dorothy, here today,

To those putting up with him stealing their phone.

My vision was to build a role

Where Mike could participate too.

It happened without ever being planned.

He’s now often expected to turn up too.

I spent 40 years in policing

Before plunging into this role.

A new audience for all my war stories

And police Minister was my ultimate goal.

I’d policed pretty much everywhere possible,

Experienced Wairarapa’s bombing and fires.

I spent a year working undercover,

Where we got new names and survived as liars.

They were pretty formative years,

Where I met people smarter and cleverer than me,

Who, if they’d had the opportunities I’ve been afforded,

Would have had lives likely crime free.

That’s why I get frustrated

When politicians with no idea yell, “More time!”

Cleverer use of more shorter sentences

Can disrupt instead of displacing crime.

However, tough sentencing talk wins elections,

So sheltered middle-class politicians talk tough.

Making the crime and the punishment more proximate

Would mean our current cells are enough.

I do like the idea of the patch ban.

Now they are hurriedly hidden when cops are around.

That’s a great message to impressionable youth,

Stopping gangsters from strutting around.

My undercover days taught me about gangs:

That misogyny and stand-over rule.

Forcing young ones to do their jail time

Is their most effective tool.

So that and detective work

Increased my understanding of policing’s soul.

This consolidation of my policing experiences

Set me up for my Police Association role.

It was from 20 years there as president,

Running a multimillion-dollar show,

That I was exposed to the commercial world

And understood the perils of poor cash-flow.

So when I came to Parliament on the Jacinda wave,

Courtesy of Winston’s then wise hand,

I’d hoped a ministerial post might come my way eventually,

Once I’d learned the lie of the land.

However, a harsh lesson in politics was to follow:

Media love you when you’re providing a nice sound bite.

But, as a politician, it’s all about “Gotcha!”

Any concessions become the highlight.

It resulted in a telling off from Jacinda herself,

By phone, as it was done in a hurry.

And while I was standing in an Indian takeaway

Deciding the spice level of my curry.

—and Sophia, here today, is my witness.

So it was backbench all the way,

With a bird’s eye view of the events that defined our time,

During Christchurch terrorism and White Island,

Which dominated the party line.

And as a complete aside on the Christchurch shootings,

The two cops who caught the offender once worked for me.

They’re types who lived close to the edge,

But they’re what we want tough cops to be.

Back now to the political career:

By COVID, I was on the finance committee.

The Reserve Bank Governor was a regular attendee,

Explaining his financial strategy.

As usual there’s now a revision;

Everyone’s an expert in hindsight.

It’s so damned easy to forget those pictures

Of Italian doctors and nurses dying day and night.

Who can forget that first lockdown?

We Wellington MPs got to play a special part.

As the death toll around the world skyrocketed,

Here it never got off to that start.

We knew it was special times,

That needed a response that was brave.

A helluva lot of our elderly and sick

Would’ve been carted off to their grave.

Then came the aftermath.

The term “anti-vaxxer” was born.

A palpable anger and societal split

Came to a head out on Parliament’s front lawn.

I personally came in every day,

bringing my toothbrush when it looked like they’d Parliament surround.

For those who condone or leverage mob rule,

Know civilisation quickly collapses when unbound.

If police had lost the battle that day,

It would’ve been the country’s eternal regret.

I saw heroism in defence of New Zealand out there.

I fear rewriting has minimised that threat.

And the House continued sitting,

Smelling of smoke permeating out on the green.

I’ve witnessed plenty of violent behaviour,

And this was as perilous as I’ve seen.

I’m often asked if I miss policing.

That’s one day I’d have gone back in the door.

Those men and woman who battled out front

Dug deep to uphold the law.

Not long after that I was made Deputy Speaker,

Not a role I’d sought or understood.

The bipartisan nature is certainly appealing,

And you work out who at their job is any good.

I discouraged the reading of speeches

And members for their oratory skills to try.

It might be unfair to a few,

Screening that written out by that damned AI.

—this is not written by AI, but can you accuse—

SPEAKER: No, that’s pretty clear.

GREG O'CONNOR: I was wondering if you can actually accuse yourself of hypocrisy, as far as reading speeches goes!

Ah, for the days of “King Dick” Seddon,

Who could speak on his feet for many an hour.

Times have moved on somewhat,

But a good orator can still hold some power.

Trouble is that the quality of the argument

Can be at odds with the manner in which it’s put.

Some of Parliament’s best thinkers

Find it hard to with crap merchants’ foot.

Being a backbencher in Government’s frustrating,

Often restricted to 30-second spiels.

That’s why Opposition’s the development opportunity,

Where you can pretty much say what you feel

—if the Speaker’s in a good mood!

So a parliamentary career should involve both.

It takes time to develop the craft.

You could do worse than study Winston

For things you’ll find in no Standing Orders draft

Living on the edge of what’s permitted,

He keeps potential interjectors wary.

Some wonder how he remains in the House;

Others reckon he’s got some photos of Gerry!

Traditions are important,

To provide a context as we move with the times.

Westminster provides the basis

But not immovable bottom lines.

Dress standards and language

Are at the front line of that debate.

Jeans and four-letter words are current ramparts.

The no-go should always be language of hate.

Personal nastiness is incredibly unprofessional.

It just lowers respect for the place.

Those for whom it’s their go-to should remember

Life’s not a sprint but a stayer’s race.

I leave here with faith in the institution

That to an outsider can seem quaint and confusing.

But it does the job it’s meant to do,

Though the how can leave many musing.

We could do with slowing legislation’s pace.

Many bills are pushed through way too fast.

Another layer of genuine debate

Might give more laws the chance to last.

We Speakers enforce the status quo,

New rulings move things along,

But removing big chunks of the process willy-nilly

Could create many an unintended wrong.

And I say to those of my age demographic

Who are quick to decry politics and all who take part

That when our young folk hear nothing but criticism,

In our democracy they’ll inevitably lose heart.

Hell, I’m all West Coast Irish,

Where, whoever was Government, we were born agin ’em.

However, several generations in,

We learnt being inside best enables our opinion.

Another feature of being here

Is that MPs’ ethnicities come to the fore.

Though I’m fourth-generation New Zealand,

I rode my Irish ancestors’ shoulders to this floor.

And speaking of West Coast Irish,

Four of my siblings are here today.

Growing up on a Buller dairy farm

Shaped the people we are today.

Privilege has little to do with money;

It’s books and stability and safety,

Being taught by those nuns at Granity Convent.

Believe me not one was under 80!

Our parents, Eamon and Kath, gave us a great start,

Living down in the mighty Buller.

Of course, these are the days I wish they were still here.

They couldn’t have made our lives much fuller.

Thanks for making the trip here, family,

Especially my kids: Eve, Issac, and Mike.

They’ve brought along grandson Freddy.

Grandad says you can do what you like!

It was looking a bit unsure earlier,

When Eve missed her flight from Sri Lanka.

She navigated Isaac and Mike all her life,

So no problem to get here without help from dad’s banker.

Burgo and Vince are ex international colleagues.

They’ve both worked many an Aussie police station.

The way their politics are heading over there,

I’m concerned they’re here recruiting for One Nation!

I’d like to shout out to all who’ve made it,

Both from the Parsons and two sheds.

There’s a shearing and a boat one,

From where there were a few hard-won votes for the reds.

It was from there and the KTC,

The sporting clubs, cafes, and churches,

I was privileged to receive votes,

Enabling me to resist right-wing lurches.

But, of course, it’s always down to the local team,

The ones who put up billboards and knock on doors,

Who deliver brochures by the thousands,

Who got me into this place of making laws.

I must thank Margaret, Glen, and Judy,

Keefe, Graham, Peter, and Lyra.

With Alex, Kate, and Lucy,

They formed the heart of the Ōhāriu fire.

To my campaign managers, Hamish and George,

Fortunately, both way smarter than me,

You allowed me to follow my instincts,

While your organisation skills were key.

They gave me the opportunity to be here,

A privilege afforded few,

A time dominated by the COVID pandemic,

Which threw all manifestos and strategies askew.

We tried to do a lot,

And history will show most ideas were right.

Our grandkids will study COVID’s impact

And know it was way more than a medical fight.

I think it’s thrown the world off its axis,

The way World War I last did,

And it’s a long way from a necessary correction,

Towards isolationism and despotism, we’ve slid.

The victims will always be the defenceless;

Their survival is in political leaders’ hands.

We only pass through this place once;

We have to prioritise all in our fair lands.

The four-year term’s a must.

Meaningful change must be brave,

Giving the benefits time to accrue,

Before to the Treasury benches we wave.

My preference would’ve been to stay;

I reckon I’ve got a few miles left on my clock.

I’m not ready for the pipe and slippers,

And there are more doors out there for me to knock.

But I leave one helluva lot wiser

About the politics of our land.

Best lessons are learnt by doing,

And I’ve got a new respect for all those who stand.

It’s the staff who keep this place ticking.

The public servants would be most missed.

It’s they who are democracy’s lube

And yet daily in this place are dissed.

Let’s not forget the real workers,

Like those who push the mail and cleaner’s cart.

Unlike we politicians,

Without the workers it would all fall apart.

I can’t finish without mentioning my EA, Susan.

She’s managed to render me useless on my own,

Organised, loyal, and competent,

Forever available on the phone.

Both her and Leanne have their families present,

And to thank them is only right.

Nothing was ever too much trouble for those two,

Including calls for help at night.

—“Little Red” running out of petrol in Ōhāriu Valley; there they were with the can of petrol—John and Leanne.

They both adopted dog Herbie,

Insisting he be in the gallery today.

He’s dreading my retirement.

He’ll miss the attention that in this place comes his way.

Having had EA support for 30 years,

I’ve now got to get my own appointments right.

The really scary day is coming

When I have to book my own airline flight!

As members, we’re well looked after,

From the moment we walk in the door.

Anyone who thinks it’s about them should observe what happens

When they’re not an MP any more.

We have to own our wee slice of history

Despite the world around us looking vexed.

We’ve won life’s lottery to be Kiwis,

So let’s make it better for those who come next.

So thanks to all who have given me this opportunity.

I’m ready for my next chapter ’cause

Next time I’m needing assistance, I’ll say,

“Don’t you know who I was?”

My future’s an unwritten chapter.

It’s great the family are all back in NZ.

I’ll make the most of every opportunity,

Because my next mention in this House will

Be when I’m dead.

Thank you, and we have a waiata.

[Applause]

Waiata—“Danny Boy”

SPEAKER: The House is suspended for the dinner break and will resume at 7.30 p.m.

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