Simon Bridges’ memoir, ‘National Identity: Confessions of an Outsider’, illustrates that humans are more complicated than the categories we put them into. Brian Easton's review

This is a re-post of an article originally published on pundit.co.nz. It is here with permission.

In his opening chapter Simon Bridges reports:

“I was as crook as a dog. Feverish. I rarely went to a doctor but I needed to. ... Into the doctor’s surgery I went – not my usual one ... I hadn’t shaved since being unwell and was in a black hoodie .... Finally the ... doctor enters the waiting room. He was South African, and he looked me up and down. After that, he was pretty rude. He wasn’t interested in my symptoms and made a comment I was wasting his time. I was affronted. ... didn’t he know who I was? ... The youngest Crown prosecutor in the country ... And then it dawned on me. He was treating me like a bloody Māori. ... The medical practice covered a low decile, high Māori population. I wasn’t suited and booted and clean shaven. I didn’t have my business card with my titles and string of degrees. The doctor had stereotyped me. Young, unshaven, hoodie, brown, Māori.“

Bridges had a Māori great-grandparent so he is one eighth Māori by descent. But he was brought up largely unaware of his Māori heritage even if, as the anecdote shows, he could not escape it. In fact he has described exactly the experience which many young Māori have in the justice system, according to a report by the Ministry of Justice; incremental judgements based on stereotypes about Māori which lead down a path to criminal records and poor health. (See Chapter 15 in my Heke Tangata.)

Bridges’ ambiguity about his status is common. About half of those of Māori descent respond that they are also Pakeha (or some such) in the Population Census ethnicity question. There is a ‘descent’ question and also an ‘ethnicity’ question in the Census. The first is a question of fact (hence its relevance for electoral purposes), the second is a question of self-categorisation; we know that many New Zealanders vary their ethnicity in different circumstances. Moreover, there is almost certainly no one alive today who is of sole-Māori descent. Anyone is absolutely entitled to say they are of sole-Māori ethnicity, but we are not entitled to take everyone of Māori descent as sole Māori; we insult many when we re-categorise them from their self-definition.

Unfortunately, our statistical definitions are misleading. The convention is that if one is of Māori descent or says that Māori is one of their ethnicities they are classified as ‘Māori’. Yet about half of them say their ethnicity is more complex than ‘sole Māori’. When we report statistics for Māori we are, in effect, using a race (i.e. descent) definition, something we need to be very cautious about. It is equally cavalier to generalise about Māori as if they are a homogenous group with a unified view. (Equally true about most other categories, including economists.) Observe that the statistical quirk not only gives the impression of homogeneity but exaggerates the size of the Māori category for most purposes.

Bridges provides a nice account of his particular struggle: ‘Over time I began to feel I was too Māori to be Pakeha and too Pakeha to be Māori. Not a proper one at least.’ He also makes the sobering point that while the lazy assume that Māori mainly vote Labour, they are referring only to those enrolled in the Māori Seats. About half of those of Māori descent choose to enrol in General Seats and a higher proportion of them vote National.

There is another aspect to that opening quotation, for underlying the doctor’s antipathy appears to be a class concern. Bridges is not only troubled about his ethnicity but also his class, reminding us again about the complexity of the notion. If I had to summarise his position, it was ‘aspiring working class’ but that does not quite capture it. His chapter on entering law is illustrative when it describes the Westie struggling with the class transition, for he has neither family connections to law nor the background knowledge of how to behave (he was a quick learner). Those with the background are usually unaware of this superior advantage. (If you are not sure of this, think of how many people you know of modest ability who hold positions arising from their family connections.)

The standard response is that there is high social mobility in New Zealand. (It is less clear whether it is higher than in many other countries, although I will hazard the hypothesis that our social mobility is lower today than it was in the past. There are a number of factors here. Some are discussed in Not in Narrow Seas; a recent one, which Bridges repeatedly acknowledges, is that high income inequality damages opportunity for those at the bottom.)

Bridges also thinks the criticism of his Westie accent is in fact class snobbery. Surely he cannot be right, can he? Us, class snobs?

Some of the other chapters in National Identity are not as riveting as the ones already mentioned although I found the one explaining the ambiguities of his nationality as instructive as those on ethnicity and class.

I conclude with a discussion of why I read his book. Here was a man who joined the National Party at 16 from a limited background, got to its highest position of leading the party at 42 and walked away at 46. I was not so interested in the party politics – he is bitter about some of the things which happened to him. My interest was the man – part Māori, part working class, very able. Why National? The cover says ‘it is not a political memoir’ and there is not as much as I hoped of his view of National’s philosophy (despite some superficial commentators saying it was a manifesto for another leadership bid). Here is my take.

There are a couple of themes which led the sixteen-year-old to join National. Suppose he was working class. The ambiguity hardly matters, what was key was that he was aspiring; he would not be the only National Party leader with aspirations which involved class mobility. But second, his positions on social issues are conservative (which was a factor in his loss of the leadership, for National is far more torn on the conservative-liberal social dimension than Labour). Perhaps it is not so surprising, given his father was a Baptist minister. Is that enough to explain the sign-up?

Add that sixteen-year-olds often take positions which are a bit quirky, except this one has stuck to his. One wonders if the forty-six-year-old has modified his adolescent position. I expect him to continue to vote National especially if Labour continues it with its lamentable record on social mobility. He seems to have learned there is a life outside politics.

If you don’t mind connecting with a bloke who is part Māori, from the working class, of high ability, a well-read politician and who can be pleasantly self-deprecating you would probably enjoy the experience of meeting him, even if your positions on social issues are very different from his. He describes himself as a ‘compassionate conservative’ explicitly discussed his theistic religious philosophy. If you don’t meet him personally, you can still enjoy his book.

Brian Easton, an independent scholar, is an economist, social statistician, public policy analyst and historian. He was the Listener economic columnist from 1978 to 2014. This is a re-post of an article originally published on pundit.co.nz. It is here with permission.