Five minutes of courtesy from a few politicians might've been enough to send the protesters on their way, writes Hamish Bidwell
Five minutes of courtesy from a few politicians might've been enough to send the protesters on their way, writes Hamish Bidwell
I've never been a joiner, nor am I often a carer.
We were indoctrinated with a daily dose of exceptionalism where I went to school. We were told we were elite, separate, other.
We've done our best to recover from that but, like many people who came from the middleclasses and their comparative privilege, we still live slightly at arm's length from everyone else.
I touched on this theme last week and the idea that many folk have quietly disconnected themselves from public life.
"The elite shouldn't assume that, just because we don't camp out at parliament, doesn't mean there aren't many more of us out there with a similar dislike for being told how to think and what to do."
You have your world, which you share with your family and friends, and shrug your shoulders and ignore the rest.
But I saw plenty of joiners a Monday or so back, as I drove from Taupo back to Hawke's Bay.
Hundreds of normal, happy, engaged people lined the Napier-Taupo road, for reasons that weren't immediately clear.
By the time we'd made our way past the convoy, at about Te Pohue, then seen their comrades massed to greet them at Esk Valley and Westshore, it was clear that something significant was happening.
Social media offered more of a clue and I have to say I immediately thought of the closing frames of the Clint Eastwood biopic American Sniper, with its real-life footage of the crowds who came to salute the funeral procession of Chris Kyle.
What I saw on the road back to Havelock North that wet day was a celebration. Not angry or violent people, just proud New Zealanders united by something.
A week on, I'm still not exactly sure what unites them. Or, more to the point, what united them initially.
What I feel confident of now, though, is that the craven, immature behaviour of our politicians and media has created a grudging respect for those protesters who are camped out at Parliament.
It's easy to dismiss these people as halfwits and scum. After all, that is the popular narrative.
Our ruling elite, which includes politicians, academics and journalists, have created a climate in which anyone not in lockstep with their views is an enemy of the state. Someone to be shamed and ridiculed and cancelled from society.
I'm not a joiner or a carer, as I've said, but despite the education I received, I don't believe some New Zealanders are better or know better than others.
The attempts to move the protesters away from Parliament have been childish and shameful, as has been the reluctance of the media to tell the protesters' stories or catalogue their grievances.
Rightly or wrongly, plenty of people - far more than those who've descended upon Wellington - believe the media have been bought and paid for. That a government fund, supporting diversity in journalism, has also bought compliance.
When Parliament's speaker requests that media don't interview protesters, when MPs don't deign to engage with their voters and when the portrayal of these campers is so dehumanising, then it's hard not to become cynical.
Five minutes of courtesy from a few politicians might have been enough to send the protesters on their way. Treating them with contempt only entrenched their desire to stay.
More broadly, the elite shouldn't assume that just because we don't camp out at Parliament doesn't mean there aren't many more of us out there with a similar dislike for being told how to think and what to do.
