With less than a week until New Zealanders have their say at the polls, our political leaders have become remarkably good at telling us who they won’t work with.
Christopher Luxon has ruled out Labour, the Greens, Te Pāti Māori and The Opportunity Party. Chris Hipkins has ruled out National, ACT and New Zealand First. David Seymour has drawn his own line against the left, but would consider Opportunity. Winston Peters has made it abundantly clear that Labour and Opportunity aren’t on his Christmas card list.
The Greens, meanwhile, have kept their options open, although their preference for a change of Government is hardly a secret.
And then there’s The Opportunity Party, led by Qiulae Wong, which has pitched itself as willing to negotiate across the political spectrum - albeit with serious reservations about serving in a Government with Peters as Foreign Minister.
Welcome to MMP: the electoral system in which everybody wants the numbers, but not necessarily the people and parties that come with them.
The two big ‘ifs’ are of course the possibility of an overhang, and whether The Opportunity Party will hit 5 percent. We have to wait and see how it unfolds, but given the tight polling and steady demise of the major parties, knowing who is prepared to deal with who matters.
Voters deserve to know what they’re voting for. If a party has fundamental disagreements with another over tax, climate policy or the role of Government, pretending those differences don’t exist would be dishonest.
But there’s a difference between establishing principles and bolting the door before you know who’s knocking.
National’s rejection of Opportunity is the much discussed case in point. Luxon objects to its proposals for a land tax and universal basic income, which sit awkwardly with National’s low tax philosophy. That is a legitimate policy argument. Luxon is also desperate for both the party and electoral vote so has kept the messaging simple.
But if the numbers on election night leave National needing Opportunity to govern, what then?
Does Luxon stick to his promise and risk handing the Government benches to Labour? Or does he discover that Qiulae Wong is, after all, a perfectly reasonable person to have a cup of tea with?
The difficulty is that a change of heart would come with a price. Having repeatedly ruled a party out, a leader cannot simply welcome it aboard and expect nobody to notice. Opponents would call it desperation. Disillusioned supporters may call it betrayal. And the media would have a field day replaying every previous emphatic denial.
Yet voters may also recognise political reality. A party that negotiates a workable agreement, secures sensible compromises and delivers stable Government could argue it had put the country ahead of campaign rhetoric.
There is a difference between changing your mind because circumstances have changed, and abandoning your principles because the ministerial cars are beckoning.
The irony is that ruling parties out potentially reduces a leader’s bargaining power. The fewer options you leave yourself, the more leverage you hand to those still at the table.
Opportunity’s potential importance lies precisely in its ability to talk across the divide, provided it can win enough votes to enter Parliament.
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