Is the John Key-led National Government the most spin-doctored administration in New Zealand history? Probably. Is it also the most ideologically-cautious and pragmatic in recent history? Probably. And is there a connection between these two factors? Definitely. That’s the impression that you get from Matt Nippert’s recent NBR article about the Prime Minister’s Office. Entitled ‘Panic station: policy quashing on the ninth floor of the Beehive’, Nippert’s investigative article seeks to find out who’s running this government, and why John Key’s chief press secretary is known within the Beehive by the nickname ‘Captain Panic Pants’. Other spin-doctors running the show go by the names Hansel and Gretel. [Read more below]
There’s two main focuses to the article by Nippert: 1) lifting the lid on John Key’s little-known but considerably influential spin-doctors, and 2) discovering to what extent these spin-doctors are responsible for John Key’s frequent U-turns and highly pragmatic decisions. The ‘bigger picture’ question for the reader is whether this Government’s ideological ‘flexibility’ is due to the immense power wielded by these technocratic, calculating, media-obsessed professionals, or whether it’s simply a case of an intrinsically cautious and pragmatic government choosing to rely on the expertise of spin-doctors to implement their pragmatism. Regardless of ‘whether the chicken or the egg came first’, the causality is to some degree irrelevant. The fact is that this is a highly-spun pragmatic government, which the rest of this blog post examines.
There’s no doubt that whoever occupies the role of Prime Minister in modern New Zealand politics has considerable power. Political scientists, journalists, and voters all know this to be so, and that’s partly why our general elections are now so ‘presidentialised’ – being largely a contest between two alternative prime ministers.
Yet we’ve been a bit slower to realize just how much of that power is shared by the Prime Minister’s backroom staff of advisers, press secretaries, and executive assistants. These people work in the Prime Ministers Office (PMO) – a relatively secretive and unexamined unit on the ninth floor of the Beehive.
The PMO has about 25 highly-professional staff working in it. Under Helen Clark’s rule, Heather Simpson (pictured on the right) was of course the head of the unit, and thus the second in command of the Labour Government. Simpson’s replacement is Wayne Eagleson, who like Heather Simpson is highly aversive to both media scrutiny and political risk. In his unit of about 25, he has people working for him such as Kevin Taylor (Chief Press Secretary), Phil de Joux (Deputy Chief of Staff, former head of the National Party research unit), Sarah Boyle (Senior Adviser; apparently a “guru of the Official Information Act”), Stephen Woodhouse (Senior Private Secretary), Grant Johnston (Chief Policy Adviser; former Treasury policy wonk and partner of columnist Joanne Black), Jason Ede (Senior Adviser), Nicola Willis (Senior Advisor), Lesley Hamilton (Press Secretary), and Paula Oliver (Press Secretary). Some of these ‘shadowy people’ we already know something of, but generally their immense power is unexamined.
Nippert’s investigation suggests that the professional-count in the Prime Ministers Office (PMO) is at an all time high:
the ninth floor of the Beehive contains the most spinners and advisers in New Zealand history. Whereas Helen Clark employed six communications staff in her office, currently seven staff in the PMO are listed as having communications roles. And whereas Miss Clark’s chief of staff Heather Simpson managed two political advisers, Mr Eagleson has five reporting to him along with Mr de Joux as a deputy.
There are of course a large number of ex-journalists that have gone to work for the current government. In the PMO, Kevin Taylor and Paula Oliver came from the NZ Herald, Jason Ede came from TV3, and Lesley Hamilton came from Radio Live. In the other ministerial offices, Craig Howie and Grant Fleming came from NZPA, Brent Webling and Rachel Bruce are from Radio Live, Jackie Maher from TVNZ, Gillon Carruthers from RNZ, Ben Thomas from NBR, Sia Aston from TV3, and Simon Beattie from the Evening Post.
The second focus of Matt Nippert’s NBR article is to explain the role of John Key’s spin-doctors in trying to keep the Government from veering into anything too radical or unpopular. Nippert outlines the ‘steady stream of quashed and heavily-diluted policies’ that the risk-averse spin-doctors have been responsible for. Key’s chief press secretary, Kevin Taylor, is seen as the most cautious of the lot – hence his moniker of ‘Captain Panic Pants’. Apparently the ‘nickname was coined by a senior government minister after red-faced temper tantrums by Mr Taylor’. We’re not told which minister invented the name, but with a nod-and-a-wink we’re informed by Nippert that he found ‘three sources claiming Minister of Economic Development Gerry Brownlee’s used the name in their presence’.
The ‘little-known but high-powered duo of Phil de Joux and Sarah Boyle’ are the other spin-doctors in Key’s office that are known to ‘value popularity over policy’ and hence apparently come into a fair bit of criticism amongst other Beehive inhabitants. They too have a collective nickname: ‘Hansel and Gretel’. This spin-doctor duo are blamed by one of Nippert’s anonymous informants (known only as the ‘Auckland Businessman’) as being part of the pragmatic influence on the Government:
The Auckland Businessman is impressed with Mr Key – who he rates as a “natural” – but not so much with his coterie of advisers. “We meet John at business breakfasts and other events and he always seems to say what we want to hear – he understands the issues – and he promises to follow-up with his ministers. But there are no staff there taking notes and no evidence that anything ever does get followed up,” he said. The Businessman fingers Ms Boyle and Mr de Joux as particular impediments and finds them too enamoured with politics trumping policy on every occasion: “They both watch too much West Wing, and think that politics is all about walking around frantically dealing with crises.”
An anonymous ‘Wellington Insider’ is also interviewed for the article, again pointing the finger at the spin-doctors:
“Part of the problem is they’ve got no one who knows how to govern and Mr Key’s style doesn’t help matters. He’s very hands off, even with ministers,” the Insider said. The Insider said the involvement of de Jeux and Boyle in strategy meetings is a recipe for do-nothing disaster: “They are factotums for the National Party – they don’t have empathy with politicians, or journalists, and when it comes to the community generally they just cleave to the party line – and that line’s increasingly becoming ‘stay high in the polls.’”
It’s not entirely surprising that such professionals are seen as a moderating influence on the Government. Party professionals generally are. They are essentially part of the ‘Political Class’ in which careers are more important than any ideological goals. This is especially the case with ex-journalists working in ministerial offices.
These professionals are typically people who do not originate from within the extra-parliamentary structures, and hence do not have the same ideological background and beliefs as the traditional bureaucrats and activists. Primarily they are carrying out their political functions for financial reward.
The ex-journalists are often from the parliamentary press gallery – for example in 1995 the Evening Post’s Mike Munro swapped sides to work for Helen Clark. As an illustration of the fact that the parties are not terribly concerned with the politics of the professionals that they hire, Munro pointed out that before being hired by the leader, ‘Clark didn't even ask me if I was a member of the Labour Party’ (quoted in Clifton, 27 Dec 1997: p.29). Likewise, John Goulter, a former political editor of the Evening Post, joined the then National Party Prime Minister’s staff in January 1999, and was reported as insisting ‘that at no time has anyone asked him who he votes for' (Johns, 1999: p.65).
It is also noteworthy that some of the political party professionals have extraordinary degrees of influence within the parties. As Laugesen has pointed out, this differentiates modern party professionals from traditional party workers: 'While the backroom kingmakers have always been around in the established parties, today's kingpins have emerged from the reliance that new under-resourced parties have to place on a few committed individuals' (Laugesen, 12 Sep 1996: p.13). Therefore, although not necessarily household names, the professionals behind the scenes of many of the parties are becoming acknowledged as important players in the direction and operations of the parties.
The party professionals clearly do have a lot of influence over policy. For instance, Laugesen has outlined how during the 1990s Labour’s Research Unit Executive Director, Heather Simpson, not only oversaw Labour's policy, she wrote ‘most of it herself with input from shadow spokespeople and more junior staff members' (Laugesen, 12 Sep 1996: p.13). Similarly, much is made of the influence that Margaret Pope had on the direction of the Fourth Labour Government from within the Prime Ministers’ office when she was David Lange’s speechwriter.
Beehive discontent
I was interviewed briefly for the article by Nippert, and am quoted in the following paragraph:
Otago University political science lecturer Bryce Edwards said the level of internal criticism and the high-level use of nicknames like Captain Panic Pants was “extraordinary.” “That must reflect the quite sizable discontent within the National parliamentary offices that there has been so much paralysis of decision-making and so many policy ideals cut out by these people,” Mr Edwards said.
To elaborate, I’d say that the use of such pejorative nicknames amongst Beehive staff and ministers suggests a rather poisoned atmosphere. When a party contains a mix of professionals (of the ‘Political Class’) and ideological ‘true believers’ wanting to change society, then a clash is inevitable. This is clearly what we’re getting a glimpse of this story. However, such clashes in a new administration normally arise somewhat later in the life of a government, and often not in the first term at all. Certainly the name calling that destabilised the Fourth Labour Government mostly arose in the second term.
Matt Nippert’s article provides a much needed glimpse into the Beehive’s most powerful office. Nippert has actually just shifted to the National Business Review from the Herald on Sunday, and has obviously brought with him some great investigative skills. So hopefully we can look forward to more revealing articles.