Democratic politics, at its best, puts the wellbeing of people at the heart of the collective decisions we make as a nation. Having been in Parliament for six years, I am not struck by the “genius” of those who represent us. Instead, I value the fact that in New Zealand, the best of our MPs still come from every walk of life and seek to listen to and represent people from every walk of life.
I do worry, however, that some MPs do not understand what it is like to have limited resources, to lose a job or to have a harder hill to climb because of circumstances beyond your control. Some politicians have always felt powerful, and feeling disempowered is simply beyond their experience. It often shows in the language they use and in the ideology of “winners and losers.” I hear this way of thinking repeatedly spouted and it can betray a smugness I call the “I’m sorted” mentality. What worries me most is when this becomes an argument for “self-responsibility” that simply loads more weight onto families already under pressure.
MPs with an electorate like mine are among the luckiest because we meet and represent an incredibly diverse range of people. We see firsthand the impact of decisions made in Parliament and the consequences when Parliament fails to act. I am constantly considering the impact of laws and political decisions on my constituents and their families.
It also helps that my own family is affected by the ordinary economic and social pressures that affect everyone else. I have lived in Mount Albert for almost 40 years, and recently said I would like to see house prices come down because my kids, and the kids they grew up with, are increasingly locked out of the area.
One of my daughters is a special-needs teacher. She cannot realistically buy a house in Mount Albert and has chosen to move to a smaller city where she can afford a future. I could not be prouder of the work she does, but it is never going to make her rich. My son, who is a lawyer, would have a much easier time choosing to live here because he earns considerably more. I am equally proud of him. But why should one child be so much more disadvantaged simply because of the value society places on their work? I value the inclusiveness of our community, and I want political solutions that mean both of them can have a future here if they choose.
My own experience is reinforced by what I see across generations as the MP for Mount Albert. Many families in the electorate rent, and our rental laws do not protect their interests well enough. Recently, my members’ bill requiring rental homes to have curtains was drawn. It sounds small, but curtains can reduce energy costs and help keep homes warmer and healthier, reducing the risk of children being hospitalised because of cold and damp conditions. That bill came directly from what I have learned as an MP. Before I took on this job, I did not know that curtains were not required.
That is why being a politician should involve more than knowing which policy position is popular. It should involve listening, really listening, to the lives behind the numbers.
The most meaningful political conversations I have rarely begun with a policy paper. They began with someone telling me about their mother, their child, their mortgage, their business, their fear about the future or their pride in their community.
If we want better politics, we need politicians who can look beyond the focus group and see the person. We need policies that begin with human experience and return to it. We need economic arguments that remember the household behind the statistic and housing debates that remember the family behind the dwelling. And we need a public culture in which disagreement does not require us to stop recognising one another as neighbours, colleagues, parents, friends and fellow citizens.
