Public Address - Club Politique (Home)

To Distraction | Nov 21, 2004 10:26

One of the things I really enjoy is driving. Despite the gammy knee and the bad back I genuinely like forcing myself to sit behind the wheel of a car for hours at a time and daydream between bouts of concentration on traffic.

For this reason, I've always loved travelling here in New Zealand, the roads themselves are always interesting. This is of course because they have not to be overrated things like curves and stuff to look at. By way of contrast, the two biggest drives I've ever been on were from Melbourne to the Alice (four days one way), and LA to christknowswhere Mississippi (five days one way), and mostly involved desert roads that were straight for hundreds of kilometres. So you can imagine my comparative boredom on the longest single trip, which was Dallas, Texas to Phoenix, Arizona. Twenty-two hours with only pitstops and a trip to the Alien museum in Roswell, New Mexico. Was a little tired after that one, but had to get the car back to LAX.

Both these two big road-trips were amazing, but the parochial kiwi in me has to argue that they're nothing like that trip straight up the centre through the slowly transforming landscape of the North Island. If you've never really ever driven Te Ika o Maui, or the Mainland for that matter, I'm going to have to ask what in the hell have you done with all your time? The North Island is simply some of the best scenery anywhere.

Now, I realise that scenery is one of those relative things. No matter where you are the landscape you're looking at is always fantastic, it's just one of those things about landscape. But after fifteen years of hitching and driving all over the place in every season, the majesty of Ruapehu summoning clouds to court its snowy peak, and the barren tussock of the Desert Road remains one of my favourite sights.

As a quick aside, in 96 a few of us took a chance for a free trip to Wellington from Auckland on a student protest. It was ridiculous, we went during Easter when there were no pollies to harass. Note to whomever organised that cock-up, you are a munter. I digress. A few of us were in a minivan and about to get to the aforementioned Desert Road, and we had a particular Queenslander I'll call M. Tiberius with us. Being Aussie he was keen to see this mythic Desert.

His comment? "Desit! That ain't a desit! You could put 50,000 head of sheep on that!".

Regardless of the misnomer, I can always favourably compare that sight to walking the cliffs of the Grand Canyon, and feeling like I'm in a virtual IMAX theatre, or walking the base of Uluru, with tens of thousands of years of myth written into its walls (only suckers climb to the top for a view of sand), or waking in a tent to minus 15 degrees and a red dawn over the blood red mesas of the Monument Valley, or drinking iced tea under Spanish-moss drenched magnolias outside civil war mansions in the Deep South.

Yeah, I just love driving to places. Flying is all good, but obviously Quantas can't stop in five or six different pubs along the same highway in South Australia and the Northern Territory for you to find that some crafty salesman has provided every one of them with exactly the same 'Singing Fish' wall trophy (or that every one of them wants to show it off. You push a button and the fish sings. The first two were funny, the rest, bizarre). American Airlines can't provide you with exactly the same 'shortstack with bacon and percolator coffee' in every roadside diner from LA to Dallas (in Louisiana I had gumbo instead). And Air NZ can't provide you with an entire pub full of people in Tokumaru Bay singing 'Alice, Alice, who the…'.

You might have gathered from this that I finally left Wellington after only snooping up limited information for you. Best Goss? A cousin tells me that 'Maori Party' is a synonym for 'Student Politicians'. Now there's a surprise. Hopefully a term in Parliament will season any successful candidates.

After spending something like eleven hours on the X-Box Thursday, the whole time with my mode switched to 'Holiday', and not 'Job-Seeker' or 'Researcher', I piled into an Avis car relocation ($20 plus gas!) and drove up to Auckland on Friday. Two things struck me on the trip. Well, actually three things, but I've already gushed about the scenery.

No. Actually there's four things. Did I mention you can't buy Bacon and Egg pies in Victoria? If anyone asks 'who ate all the pies?' Che. I'm loading up on those things, having eaten about half dozen since arriving from Melbourne. And all this before I have to keep turning down gristle and cabbage stalk passed off as "steak mince". The Great Australian Four and Twenty Pie? It might really be blackbird in there.

Anyhow, the first drama on the trip was the roadworks. Every fifty kilometres, fat blokes with shiny vests and lollipops. Sure, it's good that they're fixing every pothole between Wellington and Hamilton before the budget expires, but… Plus, its worse when I actually get to Auckland. Eight hours driving very slowly and then sitting in traffic on the Motorway? You can damn well keep that shit.

I reckon it's about time you all woke up to the reality of public transport. You know, that way of getting to work where you get to sit next to the fat lady with BO? Or you end up talking to the hairy crazy guy who's convinced he has the best conspiracy theory every? For instance that "Iraq is to harden up the Marines for invading Tehran". But PT isn't all that bad people.

Again, I LOVE driving. But that sitting in traffic bullshit is pointless.

OK, that second thing is the Police. In fifteen years I have never, ever seen so many patrol cars. Never. Haven't these people got something better to do? Like maybe stop crime? Or rescue damsels in distress?

But before I get too carried away, let me tell you a little story about a mate in Melbourne who calls himself Wogfulla. Wogfulla is the most law-abiding citizen I've ever known. He gets pissed off at me for not indicating when sitting at a left turn only sign for example. Even when he's in another car and watching me from two lanes away. Wogfulla, I'm in a left turn only lane, if the car behind me is wondering where I'm going then I'm wondering where they learned to drive.

So one time a few of us are in Portsea, a down the coast from Melbourne, and my car leaves earlier than his to head back to the city. We're waiting around for Wogfulla at his place and when he hasn't turned up after a fair while his girlfriend is getting a little worried. When he does finally get to the house he can't stop smiling. Naturally, we ask him what the go is.

It seems that on his way home he was pulled over by two officers in a patrol car. An officer approaches Wogfulla's car, and asks him politely if he knew the speed he was travelling. Wogfulla dutifully replies, "oh, 95 or 97 kmph?". The officer then asks him to confirm his speed, and then states that he was indeed travelling at 97kmph, and asks for Wogfulla's drivers licence.

Seeing that the officer seems to be writing him a ticket, Wogfulla asks what the problem is. Well, says the officer, the speed limit here is, of course, 70kmph. Wogfulla, a little confused, says, ummm, no, it's actually a hundred. The officer denies this, but when Wogfulla insists, wanders back to his patrol car. After conferring briefly with the other officer, the first officer walks back to Wogfulla and asks, are you sure?

At this point, Wogfulla is asked to take the officer up the highway, onto an overbridge, back down the highway, and then back onto the highway again a few kilometres back. Driving along, Wogfulla points to a sign saying "100". Then, a second sign saying "100", and then, drops the officer back at his patrol car.

The officer says, umm, under the present circumstances, we will let you off this time. But, please don't speed in future(!). Oh, and we'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone.

Wogfulla told everyone he knew.

Digg this Scoopit!

Travel Sickness | Nov 15, 2004 15:53

The first mistake was to accept that last-minute and late plea to cover a shift at the bistro I used to dishpig for. But the boss was desperate and prepared to offer $A20 per hour. $20p/h, free meal and a few drinks after work with the old crew? You bet. But, it seems that I forgot what standing on my feet for six and a half hours was like. That, combined with being up to my armpits in kitchen filth was something I must have blanked from my mind in the last six months. Note to self, get real job or chefs will continue to call you a 'cat' (if you get my drift).

This meant that although the flight was early evening, and the money is holding me in good stead, having to get up early and sort out last minute stuff saw me a little short on sleep by the time I got to the airport for my impending trip to New Zealand. In turn, by the time I was making my way through customs on Thursday night I was already jet-lagged as all hell, having caught Air 'Inconsolable Child' across the Tasman and arrived near nid-night. A few Scotch's and a yarn later, some sleep on a couch. I love travel, last night must have been the first consistent five hours I've gotten since Wednesday.

Oh, and if you work for Air 'Inconsolable'? Your food is crap and the wine tastes watered down. Next time I'm flying Emirates or Singapore Airlines.

Whinging done.

My first impression of being back in Wellington is wonder at how much the place has come along since my first trip here in what must have been 1985. All I remember from those days is 'grey' and 'brown', but on a trip through Courtney Place on Friday night the place is humming. People smiling and eating al fresco, bright lights, and that feeling of something happening.

Then there's good old Cuba Street, my haunt from the early 90s. Still a few run-down old buildings to keep the character of the place, but the upturn down the Manners Mall end is a little staggering. That only-loved-by-true-locals bucket fountain is almost completely obscured by all the stuff happening around it!

I took a couple of days over the weekend to drive up to the Hawkes Bay for a Twenty-First and hitched back this morning. Second note to self. Twenty-Firsts were a long, long time ago, and you're not the party animal you used to be. Still, Kitty was a surprisingly good housemate in Melbourne, and the party coincided nicely with a conference in Hamilton next week (Yup, the word is 'junket'). What's more, a couple of mates from Melbourne close to my own age were across (i.e. a social buffer), and her oldies put on a great spread. Best damn catering I've seen in years, I must have gorged and watered myself non-stop for the whole two days, with nothing but tales of Melbourne to pay for my room and board.

If there's one thing I've forgotten about in Melbourne it's hills. In fact, you can put mountains in there too. The drive up through the Wairarapa was amazing. So, so much green after years of brown and tan. I think one thing all Kiwis take for granted is just how great the scenery is in this place. Being able to stop and look at the majesty of the Rimutakas and the Ruahines was, at the risk of sounding campy, delightful.

But walking up the Terrace to pay an outstanding bill at the Waitangi Tribunal? You can keep it. Pesky damn hills. I say level the buggers.

Anyhow, today I'm drinking good(ish) coffee at a place called Fidels near the corner of Cuba and Abel Smith Streets. There's a Real Groovy on the Corner I'm checking out when I finish lunch, which just arrived. It's a chicken curry laksa and its..... really good.

Even better, the bloke who owns Fidels also runs a place just round the corner (next to Havana Coffee) with decent kiwi beer and yet another good vibe. Seeing so many people with tribal tattoos was kinda cool, having forgotten was New Zealand was really like, but Absolutely Positively Wellington? Yup. A Friday night with good people, no wankers and great sounds. I think the real trick will be to not bankrupt myself on food and nights out over the next two weeks.

I'll keep this post short, as that bargain bin at Real Groovy is calling to me, but I will hint that I might be able to schmooze up some good info about the 'too-ings' and 'fro-ings' here in the Capital for you all over the next few days. We'll see.

And god forbid I should find any work while I'm here, after selling myself to RB as 'Melbourne Correspondent', 'Wellington Correspondent' doesn't quite carry the same cache. Although being referred to as 'the famous weblogger' by some old mates here in town did appeal to my vanity. Cheeky bastards.

Digg this Scoopit!

Nations and nation-building | Nov 08, 2004 13:30

A pet peeve that has been building over the past few years is the natural tendency of any commentator, be they expert, lay or political to want to use the word 'nation' or 'national' as shorthand for 'citizen'. Originally I wanted to give you all my two-cents worth on the looming abortion debate that's just starting to kick off here in the Land of Flies, but if I have time on Thursday I'll run through that one for you.

In the meantime though, here's the only reasonable article I've noticed so far.

To be honest, I'm glad that New Zealand politics has meandered back towards a subject I think I have a modest expertise in. Fact is, you can't spend six years arguing out the details of nationalism and not get a good understanding, and opining about abortion was always going to expose my own prejudices and cost me my last few 'PC medals'. So I say we go for the safe option from the outset and save both of us the embarrassment.

As I said earlier, there's a conventional wisdom in the public sphere that automatically equates nation with population and/or citizen. What this means in practical terms is that when Helen says 'in the interests of the nation', she's implying everybody. This always kind of pisses me off though, because you only really have to scratch the surface of any nation-state world wide to see that the word nation is always a limiting term.

I don't want to expand this one out too much for fear of boring the pants off you, but if you need more I'll sell you a copy of 'The National Cell' when and if I get it published. The go is this. 'Nation' universally refers to the group that controls a country. If I say, America, the group in charge is 'Americans'. Australia? Australians. Fiji? Fijians. You get the picture.

Now, regardless of the country, the type of government, the size of the population or its place in the hierarchy of nation-states, every sovereign state has a group that calls the shots. In some countries this group is politically contested by another group that doesn't recognise its legitimacy (Spain and the Basques), in some this group dominates other group's right to belong (Fiji and Fijian Indians), and in some this group is small in relation to the overall population (South Africa under Apartheid). But, there's always that one group, and that's the nation.

How and why nations exist was a hotly contested subject, but was largely settled in the academic world by the late 1980s after this guy called Benedict Anderson wrote a book called 'Imagined Communities', which radically transformed the way the boffins understood nations. Its most important contribution to the debate was to indicate that nations aren't exclusively maintained by ethnic or familial links, but instead exist in people's imaginations. This doesn't mean that they are imaginary, but more that like other abstract concepts, they don't have any real form.

A potentially inflammatory example is 'God'. Regardless of your position on this subject, you have to admit that you can't really 'see' God. Everyone has an idea of what it is, and everyone has an opinion on what it looks like or whether it exists, but because you can't pick it up and look at it like 'a rock', it remains abstract.

'Nations' are exactly the same kind of idea. You can't 'see' a nation, and you can't concretely define it. Sure, you could try to define New Zealand nationality, but you're always going to leave someone out of the loop. Not everyone follows Rugby for example. So saying, "you're a New Zealander if you follow the Rugby" is untrue.

But, there's still a bunch of people out there who think of themselves as 'New Zealanders'. As a consequence, you have a big blend of all kinds of people who associate themselves with the nation. This is the catch you see. All too often boffins will try and comprehensively define national qualities, and they always fail because individuals themselves decide who and who isn't a fellow national. The best example is migrants. A first generation South African may have New Zealand citizenship, and therefore be 'a national', but their accent sets them apart socially. First generation South Africans will almost always find themselves excluded from being a 'real' New Zealander.

There is one truth in all this relativity though, and that is the link between 'the nation' and 'the state'. If you're a member of a nation and live in a democracy you get to influence the structure of the state. Voting for social reform and representatives to run things for us is all about belonging to the nation. If you are excluded from belonging, for instance by only having partial citizenship, like temporary residency, then you have no say in the shape of the state.

Why the topic of the nation became so hotly contested back in the day is that a bunch of authors pointed to places like Nazi Germany as an example of what happens when 'nationalism' takes hold and things go pear-shaped. In particular they freaked out about 'ethnicity' or 'tribalism' being used to define who is and isn't a national. This line of argument is misleading though, because ethnicity wasn't the problem, it was the use of ethnicity as a means to exclude some people, Jews being the example.

The process of inclusion and exclusion is discussed fairly well by Andreas Wimmer, who I mentioned last week. The ideology behind it is 'nationalism' and the process itself is called 'nation-building'.

Now, I can feel that half the readers have dropped off already, so I'll try to bring this back to the beginning. When Helen uses the phrase 'the nation', she's really only talking to the people included by the nation as both full citizens and authentic nationals. And nation-building is all about maintaining association with this group. But often when Helen says 'the nation' she assumes that she is talking in a republican sense to 'all the New Zealand citizens'.

If and when this debate into 'Treaty and constitutional' issues kicks off, Wellington is going to have to ensure that the parameters of the arguments being laid out are sufficiently inclusive. My concern here is that if the National Party's pitch to the redrubberneckers at Orewa is anything to go by, they'll try and define a New Zealand that excludes Māori society in favour of some kind of 'South Pacific melange'.

And frankly, that's just not going to cut it.

Much like the old-school authors who freaked out about ethnicity, trying to exclude Māori society because of some misguided concern about 'ethnic conflict' or a penchant for a 'one-nation' mythology is both foolish and petty. If a constitutional debate is to take place, it has to occur within a framework that recognises the equality and ongoing relevance of both Māori and mainstream society.

I think I'm running out of space here, so I'll try and wrap this up by saying that nation-building does not have to imply that a single type of national individual exists in a nation-state. Instead, nation-building is all about bolstering the ability of minority and majority alike to contribute to the ongoing development of how 'the nation' is imagined by individual citizens.

Excluding Māori society by trying to close down the nation-building that has already occurred around the role of the Treaty on the political landscape is a marked step backwards. Or, put another way, when Helen uses the phrase 'the nation' and this does not include a politically active and vibrant Māori society, we have made a grave mistake.

Digg this Scoopit!