In the first of a week-long series on influential members of John Key's Government, political reporter Patrick Gower looks at Judith Collins' performance as Police and Corrections Minister in her first year in the Cabinet and explains why he rates the Aucklander 8 out of 10 overall.
Judith Collins' opponents liken her to Clint Eastwood. Photo / Mark Mitchell
Judith Collins clearly revels in her nickname "Crusher".
Based on her signature policy of crushing boy-racer cars, it also feeds into her self-styled image as the Government's hardwoman.
While politicians usually try to shed any perception of being flinty, Ms Collins has turbo-charged hers to fit with her dual ministerial roles of Police and Corrections.
Her political instincts were bang-on when she called for the crushing of cars in response to the public outcry over the vicious and cowardly attack by boy-racers on a Christchurch police officer this year.
Sure it was populist - but that also means popular.
It is now law that those convicted of a third illegal street racing offence within four years will face having their car crushed.
Or in Ms Collins' own words: "Every offence brings them one step closer to the Crusher."
It is one-liners like this that have seen her called a Clint Eastwood impressionist by her Labour opposite Clayton Cosgrove.
Whether crushing will have any real impact on the entrenched social phenomenon of boy-racer behaviour remains a moot point. It still showed a minister not just talking tough, but acting tough.
It is this no-nonsense approach and the accompanying swagger that have won people over to Ms Collins.
But her boots-first approach backfired when she gave Corrections chief executive Barry Matthews a theatrical public spanking following the release of the damning Auditor-General's report on parole.
She refused to express confidence in the much-maligned Mr Matthews in what initially looked like an attempt to drive him out of the troubled department.
The problem was that the barnacle-like Mr Matthews wasn't going anywhere.
The subsequent to-and-fro descended into farce, eventually going full circle with Mr Matthews staying on with Ms Collins' public backing.
It was technically a loss of face for Ms Collins. But the minutiae of the working relationship between minister and departmental chief executive were too arcane to resonate much beyond the beltway, and Ms Collins scraped out of the ruckus without it getting too messy and with the image of giving Mr Matthews a crowd-pleasing bollocking intact.
Ms Collins has comfortably managed the police portfolio, which largely ticks over of its own accord without the need for a hands-on minister. In fact, a lack of interference in its operational work shows good ministerial management. She can be pushy when needed - as when she forced a swift about-face from police when they stopped releasing names of convicted drink-drivers to media.




