Mud Stinks, And Now It's Sticking To The People At The Top
Duncan Garner
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[The NZ Press are now hunting as a pack. PM Ardern is now a lame duck. Her party leadership group is also made up of lame ducks. They have conspired to mislead the press. There is no forgiveness for such a mortal sin--at least that's what the Press thinks and that's all that matters. Ed.]
Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern is refusing to say exactly who within the Labour Party assured her there was no sexual assault complaint. As unlikely as it seems, Grant Robertson could probably sink the prime minister with what he knows about this sordid Labour Party sex scandal. But to sink her is to sink him.
Now I know Robertson's coveted the top job on a few occasions, but he ain't about to be the loose lips that sink Labour's only ship that can sail through rough shark-infested waters. She's the luxury cruise liner in a fleet of bunny-hopping bumper boats. Although on this voyage, Captain Jacinda has hit the rocks, mayday mayday mayday. What was that?
That's lazy arrogance, actually. When you say #metoo, but really mean #usaswell. It's simply too hard to accept that Jacinda Ardern didn't know the alleged assault was of a sexual nature. Her staff knew. Her party knew. Parliament knew. The media knew. On body language alone this week they screamed: Help!
They looked under genuine pressure, didn't they? Jacinda, meet NZ's press gallery: they hunt as a pack of underpaid, unloved mongrels who judge life on scalps taken. Yet this time you've gifted them a beauty, a textbook way how not to do something, and how not to cover it up. Maybe the gallery is not as rabid as when Paddy "Herb" Gower and I chased Chris Carter around Parliament, only to end up in a near dust-up in aisle 4 seat B of an Air NZ plane to Wellington.
But gallery reporters feed on each other. If one person says Ardern is weak, the next pushes the gates out further: flakey, fruitloop, freezes on the big stage. They now see Ardern as fallible, not overly special and, crucially, she's vulnerable. It's simply too hard to accept she didn't know it was an assault of a sexual nature.
Her staff knew.
Her party knew.
Parliament knew.
The media knew.
Grant Robertson knew (but can't say what).
Kelvin Davis heard a rumour in Māori. How helpful.
And even the woman selling the $3 coffees by the lift knew, although Kelvin wasn't sure if she was talking about the assaults at Labour's summer camp or this latest one.
And Labour's ruling council knew too. Ardern is on that body. Did she sit in on discussions over this? She won't say. Why not?
Finance Minister Grant Robertson won't say when he was told about abuse complaints.
It's hard to think she didn't know, because Labour was riddled with similar allegations of a sexual nature. Its culture resembled a rotting fish. Stinky and smelly and just yuck. It was already on notice in the #metoo period, so you'd think all the players would be on heightened alert to get this right.
Get this right at all times, and not at Ardern's cost. But the opposite has happened. Its public talk said inclusion, but behind closed doors the doodling on the paper pads spelt disingenuous.
It looks like Labour put tribalism and its survival first, and the welfare and care of this woman a distant second. It's no surprise. What a debacle investigating itself. It's like putting a drug dealer in charge of his own trial. Not guilty, your honour, nothing at all to see here.
And all this when the PM was herself spouting off about the #metoo era being the cleanout and welcome change that was well overdue.
Jacinda Ardern said she went to the party five-weeks-ago when she saw speculation in the media.
Except at home Labour was living in the dark ages. It hadn't until this week thought it serious enough to remove the suspect from his job.
And Jacinda clung on to the party president for days if not weeks past his epic fail moment. If she didn't know, then why? If she did, why not act? Either way the rooster is fast becoming a feather duster.
Astonishingly no-one could remember the pledge to be open and honest, and Jacinda couldn't recall her UN #metoo speech, because surely empathy is just something you need to show voters; you don't have to follow it up with authentic actions, do you?
And remarkably the alleged offender has been in the office since the incident, which saw a teenage woman pinned down by the man as he allegedly removed her trousers. A young volunteer and the power imbalance of a man who came across as someone who could help. It's been the talk of the town.
Labour deputy leader Kelvin Davis is on the party's governing council, which agreed in February to look into complaints against a staffer in the leader's office. Davis has not responded to questions about whether he was party to the decisions.
So was Ardern living under a rock for the past nine months, hibernating until the northern summer broke and she could safely strut the international stage without minuscule domestic annoyances like a sexual assault complicating matters. Why can't life be easier? Why do silly little matters like this have to blight my best work.
But back to the finance minister. If Robertson knew the inner detail, so did she. They are joined at the hip. "No surprises" policies work because they have to. I've never seen Robertson so openly under pressure. To accept Ardern didn't hear or see anything is to accept she is merely a body double or puppet.
That's why Robertson's staying uncomfortably mum. So much for being the most open and transparent government in modern times. How long did that last? Until Clare met Carol for coffee.
To speak is to cough on the boss, and Jacinda Ardern is the weapon that must be protected at all times. He has to be staunch. The truth would likely not just implicate her woeful judgment to stand by and do nothing, but the finance minister would be admitting he was just as lame. That scenario is simply too big to come true. That would leave Kelvin Davis in charge spouting off in te reo about rumours ...
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