The Munters and the Mum

Words by Johnny O’Hagan Brebner | He/Him

Content Warning: Alcoholism, Sexism

By history’s standards, Jacindamania had no right to slap as hard as it did. The story of political success in New Zealand is the story of guys being dudes. Our country’s main barometer of a politician’s personal popularity is whether we’d have a beer with (in most cases) him. Until 2017, this remained unshakeable. To find out why, and how Ardern is a historic exception, you’re about to have a sneaky pulled on you—it’s a history lesson, loser.

Our expectations when it comes to our Prime Ministers are shaped by the historic dominance of men in the role, and the centrality of masculinity when we think of leadership. We expect assertiveness and aggression, a dominating presence, strong ambitions, and the strength to get underlings in behind.

Jock Phillips’ A Man’s Country? The Image of the Pakeha Male, A History tracks the roots of these qualities to the colonisation of Aotearoa—the rugged and rowdy frontiersman of the back blocks and gold fields was necessarily tough and was expected by his mates to drink his paycheque and shout his round. Regular movement encouraged yarns about exaggerated feats of strength, alcoholism, and sexual prowess, but allowed only the bond of the mate. ‘Womanly’ traits like emotions and connection beyond a root were a point of derision. Behold, the foetal bloke! Physically towering and emotionally stunted, this was the pioneer legend who became the most significant social standard for generations of Pākehā men. We love to see it.

But as the economic (see: landowner’s) needs of the colony changed in the 1800s, men were required to settle and be tamed by a woman’s influence. Bourgeoisie values had found their way in and with them the threat of masculine wilt. Fear not, however, rugby would quickly spring in to keep the pioneer virility alive. Men could not only beat each other up on the field, but get shitfaced before, during, and afterwards. While war occasionally replaced the game, riggers and rugger remained the essential expression of the pioneer ideal and so signifiers of Pākehā masculinity. Rugby and piss became titans of our history, and soon other giants would get in on the action.

Politicians seeking public support tied themselves closely to the national rugby team as soon as they could. Premier Richard Seddon was popular not only because he was seen as a mate of the everyday man. He telegraphed the results of the All Blacks’ formative 1905 tour of England to the Evening Post, to be regularly updated in the office windows. Seddon even got the government to foot the bill for an extended AB return trip via Canada and the US.

Similarly racist and astoundingly autocratic, Prime Minister Robert Muldoon used his endless aggression to wield the full force of the New Zealand Police to crack open the heads of Springbok Tour protestors. His identity as a hard man was well protected. Muldoon was also an infamous drunk, pulling the biggest pisshead move in political history by calling the 1984 snap election (which he subsequently lost to Labour’s David Lange).

Politics remained under the influence until the 90s. Lange himself fell prey to alcoholism as his Cabinet split. Only Jenny Shipley was ready to call the end. Making a jab at her recently coup’d leader Jim Bolger and his Deputy Winston Peters, she declared that she would not be “running the country over a whiskey bottle.”

As the exercise of actual pioneer masculinity became less acceptable, the power of rugby and booze as symbols rocketed. Key relied on this heavily—a background as an investment banker doesn’t scream Southern Man. He made sure that there were regular images of him choking down swill despite his preference for wine. His obsessive and painfully awkward appearances with the All Blacks still haunts many today.

Even our women Prime Ministers fit the mould of masculine leadership. Both Shipley and Clark presented themselves as down to earth farm girls. Shipley donned her power suit and rolled her Prime Minister. Clark became known as The Commander. Staunch and largely uncompromising she was subject to allegations of lesbianism. The fact that Ardern could have followed the same course is striking. Like her precursors, Ardern often discussed her upbringing in the provinces but mentions faded as her limelight brightened. That framing had worked before yet the opportunity was passed over for a different frontier entirely—the woman’s woman PM.

Ardern is an exception because she follows none of our expectations about leadership, especially as a woman. She has no power suit or stubbies, is compassionate not combative, and is a literal mother figure. Few of these things are seen in our old PMs, none of them together, and none of them in a woman.

So what? Gender is everywhere. Wabam. Except, we just learned that. The problem is that gender, and a lot of other ~ideologies~, have informed how our history is made. A Man’s Country? was acclaimed at the time for its ground-breaking work, but it also received heavy criticism for lacking coverage of Māori, Pasifika, queer, and women’s history. The 9th Floor which informed a lot of this feature was primarily produced by two men, Tim Watkin and Guyon Espiner (Claire Eastham-Farrelly and Rebekah Parsons-King were both editors). Many other sources used here and sources used by those sources were written or made by men. This feature, although written by a homo, was written by a man homo.

This is what cool people like me call History-squared, nerds call it historiography. The way that we record, research, comment, and report on history is important in itself. What was and wasn’t included? How and why? Who recorded it and who was recorded? Is it enough that exclusions are simply acknowledged? We can’t delude ourselves by obscuring our history, or the way we understand and respond to history.

Ardern is rightly admired for her historically exceptional approach to leadership, but is also rightly criticised in more substantial areas. Like Key, we risk obscuring policy with personality. How does her campaign's compassion compare with her own history on climate change, the WEAG report, housing, and Ihumātao? How will history recall her?

Phillida Bunkle is Jock Phillips’ ex-wife, although her credentials go well beyond that as co-founder of the VUW Women’s Studies department and co-author of the Unfortunate Experiment. She made the point in a way my irony-poisoned brain can’t. In her article “A Marriage and Self-Serving Boomer Men” she critiques her ex-husband’s role in redefining our national identity—“But for women seeking a place in that new narrative, the moral of their books is this: keep your own documents, even the little cards that come with the flowers. For without even these small reminders you will be trapped in subjective, unbalanced, exaggerated accounts of your life.”

Read Phillida Bunkle's article here: www.newsroom.co.nz/scenes-from-a-marriage-a-personal-feminist-essay-by-an-ex-wife