A real apology

Sometimes I rewrite apologies in my head. I’d like to think I’m good at writing them, but maybe I’m only good in comparison to some of the absolute tossers who find themselves being forced to apologise for things they really don’t want to apologise for. This time it’s Aaron Gilmore, whose actual apology was so full of may haves and possiblys that I’m surprised he acknowledged actually being at the bar. Here’s my first go at a better speech – note that I haven’t even bothered fact-checking it.

“It has been reported that on the night of X, my behaviour was far from that expected of a Member of Parliament. My memory of the incident doesn’t fully match those reports, however as the sober person at the time I’m prepared to fully accept [the bartender]‘s version of events. I apologise unreservedly, to my companions, to the public, as well as to him and his managers, who I will also be speaking to privately later today. To prevent this from happening in the future, I plan to start restricting my alcohol intake. As the campaign says, it’s not what we’re drinking, but how we’re drinking. My only hope is that at least some people are able to see me and realise that this is not what they want for themselves. It’s not what I want for myself. I’m just glad that I realised this before causing somebody serious harm.”

This does focus rather a bit on the alcohol. Unfortunately, the problem with Gilmore wasn’t entirely the alcohol, rather the fact that the alcohol helped to bring out the fact that he’s a massive douchebag and thus incapable of actually considering his actions and giving a proper apology. Because face it, he’s just not that sorry.

One accident away

There is an opinion piece on one of the Australian news websites titled something like “$300? My wheelchair costs $22,000″. The issue, in a nutshell, is that the Aus government is proposing a $300/year tax hike for contributions to an NDIS fund which I gather is pretty much like our ACC – a public accident compensation program. Between a few different people, many of the comments were read, and it is one of the most heartbreaking displays of societal breakdown. Not in the conservative “divorce and abortions and gays, oh my!” sense, but the neo-liberal “look out for number one” sense, where no one has any obligation whatsoever to care about anyone else, no matter what. Being currently able-bodied, these people claim, means they should be asked to contribute absolutely NOTHING for the care of those who aren’t. No matter that a centralised fund is overall cheaper than everyone paying their own costs (or failing to, and then needing emergency care which is funded, but is much more costly). No matter that disability and poor health effect the health of the whole of society. No. These people don’t currently need the fund, so they shouldn’t have to pay.

The funny thing about disability is that it’s one of the very few minority groups in society which anyone could join at any point. It’s pretty fluid, since it covers such a huge range of conditions, but there are people who come in and out of it (discounting through death, generally more in than out), unlike race or sex or to an extent sexuality. Some people have lived with their conditions for their whole lives, some have them come on gradually, others have a sudden accident which results in short or long term or permanent disability, and it’s the latter which ACC and NDIS cover. I’m sort of in the second group. Right now, I’m closer to “physically unremarkable” than “completely paralysed”, but since my issues have gotten worse over time I also get to wonder how they’ll change in the future. Will they become significantly worse?

Interestingly, I can’t remember the last time I had a dream in which I could walk. It’s a little hard to describe, but usually it’s difficult for me to stick to the ground – my legs don’t work properly, it’s a pain-that-doesn’t-hurt, or maybe it’s just that it’s pain but I can’t feel it, because it’s only a dream – and instead I drift upwards a foot or two or even higher (power lines are much more prolific and a frequent concern in many of those ones). There’s usually this sense that for some reason this floating is a social faux pas that I shouldn’t be doing, that I’m drawing attention to myself and causing a scene, but often that doesn’t actually affect anything that happens. I can even cross the road against the lights, over the tops of cars, without any real consequences.

Occasionally, I can’t float at all, but I still can’t walk properly. I don’t like those much.

Everyone loves an old white guy

It’s interesting seeing which parts of Wednesday night’s marriage equality proceedings have gotten international attention over the last two days. The waiatanga of Pokarekare Ana is predictable and deserved – as is obvious from my previous post, I thought it was a beautiful moment. But the second part that really went viral was Dr Maurice Williamson’s speech, and I think that deserves a little bit of reflection.

Williamson, who also brought us the recent “people are going to 3d print drugs” line, is a fairly elderly, white, National MP. And yes, his speech was funny and quite nice, and I get the appeal of subverted expectations and the idea of winning over traditional enemies. But to me that isn’t really enough to justify why his speech has gotten so much more attention than some of the others. Clearly humour isn’t necessary to make something go viral – there was nothing funny about Pokarekare Ana (though there was subversion in bringing tikanga off the marae and into Westminster; I suspect you have to have a basic understanding of Māori culture to realise that though, something that a lot of the international audience doesn’t have, and instead saw it as simply an unexpected expression of joy). So why not some of the wonderfully written, emotional speeches of other MPs? I name-checked Te Ururoa Flavell and Mojo Mathers on Twitter and others cited Louisa Wall, Kris Faafoi, Kevin Hague and Tau Henare.

Obviously Te Ururoa’s never would have managed it. Aside from the specifically Māori context in it, it brought attention to the destruction of Māori culture that occurred under colonisation, and which is still occurring (apparently the medical centre closed for practicing “witchcraft” fairly recently was actually using rongoā, for example). We can’t be forcing people to confront that! But any of the other five brought real power to the proceedings in very different ways. In my opinion Mojo, Kevin and Tau would all have been pretty good candidates for virality, depending on whether you’re going for sentiment, stark honesty or political rancour.

The thing about history is that it’s really easy to justify why what did happen is what had to have happened. But that often isn’t the case. There are a lot of historical events that only went the way they did by mere chance and it is frankly fascinating to look at those events and how else they could have played out. So yeah, it’s easy to say “well of course it was Williamson, because it was funny” or “because we like converting people” or “because it was unexpected” – but if it had been someone else, it would be just as easy to say “because we like politicians yelling at each other/he threw out his original speech and that was lols” or “because it showed how far we’ve come/it spoke truth to power” or “because it had some incredible imagery/ffs it’s a Deaf woman talking about her gay* daughter and how awesome is that!” (*note I’m not sure whether her daughter is gay, or bi, or just fell in love with this one particular girl.)

So despite all the arguments in favour of Williamson’s speech, I continue to find it not entirely coincidental that the old conservative white guy went viral, when our Parliament has so many incredible speakers from diverse minority backgrounds.

Context context context

You’d not think that marriage equality would trigger a rant about race. Well, I don’t know, some people might, but it’s not really the first thing that most people would leap to. And yet less than 24 hours after the vote we have evidence of how race relations really aren’t universal, brought to you from Helen Razer of Australia. Now there are certainly things to, if not criticise, than at least be aware of regarding marriage equality. It’s not an end point. It’s not the greatest victory in the history of LGBT rights. And there are certainly people who gain more from it than others. But it’s also not the exclusive domain of white cis queerios, “smug honkeys” or not. For starters, the member’s bill was drafted by a Māori. And beyond that you have to take into account the colonial history of New Zealand and the impact of missionaries and British “humanitarians” in reshaping Māori culture and custom. Luckily, if you’re not aware of this history, you can get a (very) brief idea by going to In The House and looking up Te Ururoa Flavell’s speech in favour of the bill, which talks about a fairly well known Māori “myth” (/oral history/pakiwaitara) and the less well known fact that the version in most books completely erases the relationship between two male characters. LGBT rights are not a Western imposition, they’re a restoration of the pre-colonial status quo.

So white non-Kiwis really have no place to be relegating marriage equality to some exclusively white sphere, particularly an exclusively white sphere where anything an indigenous person does is presumed to be blatant pandering to the feelings of white people, rather than an act of self-determination and cultural defiance. The reason the video of everyone in the gallery standing up to waiata went viral is because that’s not done in the Westminster system. There is no “read the votes, then proceed to singing” in the order papers. That’s a Māori cultural tradition, something you see on a marae after the whaikōrero. The hint is in the fact that waiata, the word even the Speaker used, is not English – because what happened was not the hiring of a Polynesian choir for smug honkeys, it was an expression of Māoritanga, an act of rangatiratanga that was both a radical fuck you to the establishment and a highly conservative moment, depending on which lens you view it through.

You see, conservative doesn’t always have to mean bad. There are certain facets of humanity that will remain constant, and falling in love and wanting to commit to each other is one of them (though the form of that commitment will vary based on time and place and the people involved). So what if Māori marriage didn’t take the same form, pre-colonisation, as it did in the Western world? It was still recognisable as marriage, which is why it was so easy to graft European marriage onto it, and why opening that marriage up to couples of the same sex is absolutely not a bad thing for Māori. There are times when it’s right to talk about how marriage and the assumptions that go with it can be damaging, including to Māori. But in my opinion, this isn’t it, and white Australians certainly aren’t the people to do it.

I am WARRIOR of the KEYBOARD

Paula Bennett’s been having a swipe at bloggers in the media, it seems. Apparently we are keyboard warriors being nasty behind the protection of anonymous blogs. I’ve dealt with the anonymity thing before, but to assuage her concerns I’m quite happy to announce my TRUE IDENTITY. I have fooled you all into believing that I am Chris Miller of Christchurch, a disabled mature extramural student of Massey University learning about te ao Māori and Social Policy, but this is a lie.

In fact, my name is Estrid-Shamtoul-Dlenrebah, and I am a member of the proud Andalite race sent here to observe your strange human ways and to watch for signs of the dread Yeerk incursion. Though I yearn to feel the blood of my enemies trickling down my skin from the blade of my tail, I have turned instead to the mysterious keyboard to quench my thirst for battle. This “Paula Bennett” (if that is her real name!) can be assured that I intend to continue my mission discretely, provided I do not become too displeased with the deception and dishonour displayed by these so-called “Right Honourable”s as they hide behind their Parliamentary privilege and the staff who monitor their electronic mail accounts.

Now you know the truth. I hope it doesn’t change anything between us.

Never too small

The favourite line of people not quite willing to paint themselves as climate change deniers is “but we’re too small to make a difference.” Often the “so why bother?” is merely implied, but not always.

It would be interesting to come up with a scale of things we’re “too small” to make a difference on. Apparently we’re not too small to make a difference on women’s suffrage or nuclear proliferation, but we are for climate change.

You know I’m going to say it: this is stupid. For a number of reasons. Firstly, even if we make little difference to overall global emissions, we’ll still be lowering the local ones, which will have an impact on our own ecosystem. You know, the one full of unique fauna and flora that can’t be found anywhere else in the world. Even the stuff that isn’t widely considered cute, like frogs and snails, but which scientists still go nuts over. Lowering our reliance on fossil fuels means less mining, less fracking, less reliance on roads, less chance of catastrophic oil spills in our coastal waters, which means less damage to the places our native animals live.

Secondly, you only have to consider the position of the bigger countries. “Why would we take the risk? Small countries are expecting us to do all the heavy lifting even though they’re more vulnerable to the effects of climate change.” Small countries, like Pacific island nations, have less diverse economies that rely heavily on their environmental stability. Ocean-locked nations with long coastlines are also at higher risk of water-based natural disasters from the spectacular like cyclones and hurricanes to the slow, steady, frog-in-boiling-water ones like rising sea levels. Don’t get me wrong, climate change will affect everyone, even huge countries like Russia, China, the US, Canada. There are still huge areas of those countries that will be absolutely devastated if no one steps up to change things. But for countries like New Zealand and even smaller, it’s far, far more dire. And how can we reasonably expect the superpowers to do their share if we refuse to make changes ourselves?

The irony is that because of our small size, we have the ability to really revolutionise things. We could make a commitment to switch to green energy, if we wanted to, because we have so much more flexibility – imagine us like one of those little critters that darts nimbly over the ground while the huge lumbering creatures have to rely on their bulk, rather than speed and adaptability, to protect them. We have political flexibility too, because of our unique constitution that allows government to make radical changes without getting hamstrung by powerful counterweights. It’s done damage in the past, but we can harness it for good as well, and in this case we have a responsibility to – to ourselves, to our Pacific neighbours, and to challenge the big players to meet our standards.

The poverty of excess (or why kids are like roads)

Around the fifteenth century, something interesting happened: the philosophy of individualism was born. Until then the concept of individual rights wasn’t actually really a thing (and for much of the world wasn’t for quite a while longer), but over the next couple hundred years the idea became more popular for a lot of reasons – disillusionment with the government (particularly Britain’s monarchy, who were starting to become known for their excesses and bloodthirstiness) and church, especially. As the concept developed, a bigger variety of things began to be considered as rights that were held by individuals. Some meant physical protection from the government. Others meant political or economic participation. If you’ve played Civilisation, you know the name Adam Smith – he was one of the people thinking about this sort of thing and coming up with the ideas that became liberalism. Liberalism (the precursor to modern neo-liberalism and market liberalism) and individualism evolved together and pretty much go hand in hand. Each man, people were deciding (and it really was each man, as women were required to tend the home – the system doesn’t work otherwise), had the right to provide for himself, rather than relying on a lord who was responsible for the wellbeing of his people. (The quality of that wellbeing varied – some were terrible while others felt a real duty towards the families on their land and would provide for them relatively well even if they were sick or injured and couldn’t work.)

Fast forward, a lot, and skip to the other side of the world. In the mid twentieth century, the Labour government established the welfare state. Anyone who says we have a welfare state now? It’s nothing like what we used to have. The welfare state meant “universal” benefits, generous ones, like payments to families. State houses that were nice to live in. Full (male) employment – in 1950 there were about five people on the unemployment benefit. Targeted health services, particularly focusing on children’s health, with recognition that healthy babies make healthy kids make healthy adults who can join the workforce and contribute tax.

The dark side of this was especially evident when you look at Māori. When the welfare state was being set up they were still mostly living in rural areas, with their iwi or hāpu. Until 1945 essentially no Māori were drawing benefits; only after the war, when Māori began to move into urban areas and the government penetrated rural areas a little more, did they start engaging with welfare agencies. During this period, a big part of the welfare system was discretionary payments, because just saying that a family is a single unit doesn’t mean that families will always be good to each other, but the government didn’t want to be giving money to women who had unreliable husbands because it would encourage them to abandon them to an even greater degree. Discretionary welfare involved a relationship between the social workers and families over a fairly lengthy period of time and these relationships simply didn’t exist for Māori families because of the way they lived – on their traditional lands, in bigger family groups – and, frankly, because of racism. There was a lot of tension as Māori moved into the towns that was simply white New Zealanders complaining about Māori being Māori while, like, existing. When Māori did engage with the welfare system they were scrutinised to a much higher level, which is the problem with discretionary welfare. It’s discretionary. Subjective. Uptake of the non-discretionary family benefits (ten shillings per child at first, increased to fifteen in the late fifties) meant a lot to Māori and that was quite visible, with children getting clothing and more food (things that Māori used to be able to do themselves), which pissed white people off. They thought Māori were getting too much and spending it wrong, while in actual fact there were a lot of things that the family benefit just didn’t cover that discretionary welfare would be useful for – like transporting bodies home for tangi (food for the tangi was also explicitly not covered, even though it’s a pretty important aspect) and traveling to see what to Pākehā would be considered extended family.

The upshot of all of this is that Māori had to prove their need more than Pākehā, and behave “better” to get help. Which really meant behave more white. Even once they moved into the towns and had access to the welfare offices they had to be very careful how they behaved. If they had extended family visiting too much, that would piss off the neighbours. If they were too noisy, that would piss off the neighbours. If they ate food that smelled strongly, that would piss off the neighbours. And while obviously this mostly applied to Māori, discretionary welfare was a problem for other people too. Essentially it was a form of social control, one which encouraged the white ideal of nuclear families, placed in separate housing, breaking down the support systems that were considered a basic necessity for most of human history for raising children. While this was going on, too, there was active societal encouragement for people to start families of not just one or two children, but quite a few – for the Māori of course this is long-standing culture. Children are highly valued. And for white New Zealand, it was racial supremacy and government policy to support that.

The welfare state started to seriously fray in the seventies and completely fell apart in the eighties. Ironically it was Labour who both started and ended it, in their first and fourth occasions in power respectively. I know I have some friends who are a bit younger than me who may think this was quite a while ago, but particularly in terms of societal attitudes it’s really, really not. I was born in the eighties. I have siblings born in the seventies. My parents are at the tail end of the baby boomers. Social beliefs around, say, the un/desirability of children do not often change that quickly without severe external cause, which we have very much not had, here or anywhere in the Western world, in that timeframe. But liberalism has come back in a big way, and politicians and commentators have been talking up their philosophies in the media, something that has demonstrable affect on less deeply ingrained attitudes – I know I use this example a lot, but the rise in threats and violence against people with disabilities in the UK as politicians demonised disability beneficiaries is a really, really good one – and individual responsibility has really supplanted social responsibility as a major driver of public policy. (I know I used responsibility twice there; originally it said individual rights, but then I decided that was wrong.)

Basically what I’m saying is, the idea of individuals, as a whole (ie not counting the declarations that ethnic groups and the extremely poor have “too many” children), having to be solely responsible for the raising of their children and of children being a right tied to income and wealth, is pretty damn new, and not something that society has actually adjusted to. It’s actually pretty radical. It goes against thousands and thousands of years of basically every human culture. It also doesn’t really make sense, because the way nation-states are set up in the Western world relies on growth. We need a growing population, and we don’t have enough very rich to provide it, and it’s politically untenable to get it through immigration because of racism and xenophobia (just look at the news right now for evidence of this – you’d think there’s a flood of Chinese immigrants buying all the houses, and some of our politicians have been trying to convince us that “boat people” are on their way here right now). The middle class and, yes, even the lower class, need to have kids. Even if they need help with some parts of getting them to adulthood in a relatively healthy manner. Furthermore, the family sizes we currently consider normal are pretty small. Three children is not too many. Three children is replacement level and a spare. Less necessary now because of child mortality, happily, and more because more people are choosing not to have children at all (though this isn’t an entirely new phenomenon either; my history has a family with something like six children, none of whom had any of their own, and that was a good couple generations back). And it is entirely reasonable for people to expect social assistance in raising those children, because this is the first generation where anyone has been saying that that’s not reasonable. The universal family benefit wasn’t removed until the eighties! My own parents received that for their first children, and it could be capitalised to pay upfront for bigger expenses (in our case school uniforms, but it could even be taken advantage of by first-home buyers). That social assistance wouldn’t necessarily mean strictly financial transfers, however – tax credits, subsidised services, strong protections for employees that allow parents to keep jobs that pay well and also spend time at home, and, yes, parental leave, are all things that can be done to make it a little bit easier to have a family and which are not a level of expectation that is, really, unprecedented.

The really funny thing about me saying all this, actually, is that I did not used to think like this. Allowances for parents annoyed the hell out of me. I was a member (I’m ashamed to admit) of childfree on LiveJournal, though not cf_hardcore. I mean, it still annoys me that banks seem to think they can only market mortgages towards families and that people talk like only parents need or want a work/life balance, but having learned more about history and social policy makes me realise that, um, we do need allowances for parents. Because parenthood is not something that pays for itself despite the fact that it’s really, really important. It’s one of those things that just makes sense to receive public assistance, like how roads should be publicly funded because that’s much more efficient (Roads of National Significance aside) than expecting private citizens to be responsible for building and maintaining their own. That’s right, folks. Kids are like roads. We shouldn’t have to build and maintain them ourselves.

Question time? Party time!

Question time with Lockwood Smith gone has (never thought I’d say this) become a farce. David Carter is a terrible Speaker who can barely keep control of the House, interprets standing orders based on what appears to be whimsy*, and gets his back up at any questioning.

*Note: do not interpret this to mean that he actually has any whimsy, which would be a positive aspect.

So the inevitable needs to happen, which is that there should be a drinking game for watching Question Time. (I’m pretty sure this is in the constitution. Trust me, I’m a policy student.) After some consideration I would like to suggest the following rules:
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A relationship in the nature of marriage

So the newest beneficiary bash involves extending legal responsibility for relationship fraud to the partner. So there’s been some discussion of abusive relationships, and in Question Time today Jacinda Ardern (I think?) asked about whether women in abusive relationships would have that taken into account.

In response, we were told that “an abusive relationship is not a relationship in the nature of marriage”.

This is an interesting position to take. There’s no specification of whether this means just for the purposes of this policy or in general, and if the latter, I would be extremely worried. In New Zealand de facto relationships have the same benefits as those who are legally married, for example, and especially regarding divorce and separation, many of the legislations set up were about protecting the partner who has been financially disadvantaged, usually the woman – especially in an abusive relationship. If abusive relationships hold a special category where they’re NOT regarded as similar to a marriage, does that leave grounds for someone to claim they don’t have to pay alimony? Particularly if the victim/survivor does not wish to lay charges, or if the abuse does not involve physical violence (or very little) – though I’m not confident about the government’s willingness to recognise the existence of emotional abuse – it seems like the main thing stopping people from doing this would be the implicit admission of abuse, but in my experience abusers are willing to do all sorts of seemingly self-destructive things purely out of bitterness if their victim finds a way to get away from them.

ETA: Further questions:

Does this mean that if someone is in an abusive relationship, they are allowed to tell WINZ they’re single?
What does this mean for the legal validity of abusive marriages? Does it render a divorce unnecessary?*

*This is clearly in a hypothetical world where an answer in Question Time is an accepted method of law interpretation rather than judges’ decisions.