Don’t buy the lie that we are divided

National leader Christopher Luxon’s claim, on Monday, that this is “the most divisive government in recent memory” came as a surprise to people who know anything about this nation’s past. More divisive than the 1980s Labour government – which surely is within “recent memory” – and its undemocratic economic blitzkrieg, which made thousands of people redundant almost overnight?

It’s also worth comparing this Labour government to administrations further back in history. Far more divisive were the nineteenth-century administrations that confiscated millions of hectares of Māori land. So too Sid Holland’s National government, which in 1951 made it illegal not only to report the views of striking waterfront workers but even to feed them.

Historical knowledge, though, doesn’t seem to be in the National leader job description these days: John Key once described the colonisation of New Zealand as “peaceful”, which must have come as a surprise to the iwi who had their land stolen and their people murdered. 

The irony is even stronger when you consider that Jacinda Ardern’s greatest achievements have been feats of unification: eschewing revenge and angry rhetoric after the Christchurch mosque shootings, and helming the “team of 5 million” covid response in which the young and healthy have stayed home to protect their vulnerable elders. 

Yes, the vaccine mandates have excluded many from their normal way of life. But that exclusion was amply justified, and temporary: for all the politicking, most parties want the mandates relaxed as soon as possible. 

Deep differences of opinion may have sprung up. But, far from being irreparable, they are a standard part of democracy. The 75% who back tough covid action is, in fact, remarkably high for such a heated issue.  

Here’s another history lesson: the 1981 Springbok tour famously divided the country, but with time the wounds closed over. Indeed we have an immense capacity for healing, not least because the body politic is fundamentally in good shape. 

Four in five New Zealanders believe our governments will solve key national problems, while trust in public services is high, and rising. Crucially, we don’t have a deep and seemingly irreparable breach between two large groups – think Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland – that makes governing next to impossible. 

So it creates an unnecessary sense of crisis to talk about a torn social fabric – or social chasms, as Act leader David Seymour has done. On the other hand, we mustn’t be complacent about what has happened in recent weeks.  

While some Covid Convoyers have genuine concerns about the mandates, they have largely discredited their cause by standing shoulder-to-shoulder with those issuing death threats to journalists and politicians. Personally, having observed the Parliamentary siege first-hand, and followed the reporting, I’ve been dismayed by the violence – and above all the detachment from reality. Conspiracy theories are rife. 

The views represented by the hardcore occupiers are mostly marginal: just 5% of New Zealanders, after all, are not double-vaccinated. But even that is a worrying number. Some larger figure –perhaps one-fifth – are sympathetic to parts of the protest. Moreover, the occupation is clearly radicalising its more mainstream members; the growing influence of the global far-right can be seen in the conspiracy-theorist Counterspin’s broadcasting; and academics who follow extremism report an eight-fold increase in activity on anti-vax social media channels. The social fabric isn’t rent but, to use a different metaphor, a small group has splintered off. 

So how do we respond? The siege of Parliament must act as a particularly unpleasant wake-up call, like a rooster crowing in a suburban backyard. The police, caught completely unawares, must rethink their approach to extremist gatherings. The Speaker of Parliament, Trevor Mallard, should reflect on his foolish attempts to harass the occupiers. Some commentators must realise they can’t downplay the danger of violent extremism or always take protesters’ statements at face value. 

We need, in short, to be tougher with extremists. But we also need to be gentler in other areas. 

Those who have descended the rabbit hole of conspiracy theory have often been preyed upon by online ‘Mumfluencers’ and the alt-right. Sneering at them won’t help, nor will lectures from distant authority figures. Their rescue will fall to people in their own lives, trusted figures who can listen, empathise, and help non-judgementally. 

We must also build a fence around the rabbit hole. That will require better public health communication, programmes showing people how to spot misinformation, and tougher regulation of Facebook and algorithms that promote hateful content. 

It will also take a wider social mission to ensure that the 5% – if they are even that large – don’t become the 25%. We need to take steps to ensure everyone, as far as possible, feels part of the social fabric. And we don’t need to do that to appease Parliament’s occupiers – they are all steps we should have been taking anyway.  

Anti-poverty programmes that ensure everyone feels economically included; the devolution of public services to Māori providers trusted by their communities; the creation of affordable housing for all; the reduction of wealth disparities that polarise society: none of it is easy, but all of it is possible. And all the more so because we begin from a basically unified starting point.