Breaking-Up Is Hard To Do.

Divorcing Labour from neoliberalism, the Treaty and identity politics will not be easy.

CHRIS HIPKINS has had a hellish week. Scenes from his marriage, or, more correctly, Hipkins’ former wife Jade Paul’s recollections of her life following their separation and divorce, have been exposed to the public gaze.

There is no painless way of responding to this sort of thing. No clever construction of words and phrases that allows you to walk away with a spring in your step. From beginning to end, break-ups and recollections of break-ups are just bloody awful.

The general consensus among the nation’s paid observers (and a fair number of those who offer up their opinions for free) is that Hipkins has acquitted himself pretty well. That said, the whole sad episode has hurt him and his party.

How could it not?

Prior to his ex-wife’s Facebook post, Hipkins’ public persona had proved surprisingly robust. Certainly, he presented a lot better than his principal rival, Prime Minister Christopher Luxon.

Simply by remaining in place and not making any really serious mistakes, Hipkins had cemented himself in the public imagination as an inoffensive and reasonably competent Leader of the Opposition.

Crucially, a fairly large chunk of the electorate had reached the point where it could contemplate the imminent prospect of “Prime Minister Hipkins” without either laughing uproariously or muttering obscenities under its breath.

Unfortunately for “Chippy”, that same chunk of the electorate cannot now unhear what it has heard, or unread what it has read. Outraged by the invasion of Hipkins privacy and/or disturbed by the accusations levelled against him, New Zealanders have been compelled to form an opinion about the content and implications of Jade Paul’s claims.

Ultimately, the public’s verdict on the matter will probably be for acquittal. (Assuming Paul is unable to prove her allegations and disprove his denials.)

Enough New Zealanders have endured the heartache and recrimination that inevitably accompany the dissolution of long-standing relationships to know that at least some of their past behaviour could not withstand public scrutiny.

It’s a familiar litany: “The things I said and did all those years ago – they were unforgiveable! I hang my head in shame as the memories come flooding back. Dear God! If the rest of the world was suddenly copied into them I’d be mortified.”

If enough voters are able to feel Hipkins’ pain, it may not end all that badly for Labour and its leader. There is something comforting about a politician who is just that little bit less than perfect. Someone with more to offer at the personal level than the soft-focus confections whipped-up for public consumption by The Woman’s Weekly and New Idea. Voters are more disposed to vote for a person who has lived a life not entirely dissimilar to their own.

When Ancient Rome was a republic, its sculptors were known for fashioning representations of their leading citizens that were seldom flattering, but always real. When Rome became an empire its emperors were presented as gods. All smooth marble: painted faces without the slightest blemish.

Perfection is the lie authoritarian regimes force their citizens to believe. Democracy and perfection have always been and should remain strangers.

All the more reason, one might think, for Labour to eschew both authoritarianism and lies.

Stepping into Jacinda Ardern’s shoes in January 2023, Hipkins made an effort to present himself as a Labour leader for ordinary Kiwis. Less sushi, more sausage roll.

He pledged to prioritise the “bread and butter” issues that had somehow drifted down the party’s “To Do” list.

He allowed the impression to take root and grow that Labour was abandoning “woke” before it went electorally broke. The media talked about the new Labour leader making a “bonfire” of his predecessor’s unpopular policies.

It didn’t work. Labour’s Party Vote plummeted from 50.01 percent in 2020 to 26.91 percent in 2023.

Why didn’t it work? Because Hipkins demonstrated that Labour’s core commitments: to neoliberalism; to the Treaty; to identity politics; were not about to be flung upon a bonfire any time soon.

Not on his watch.

The first signal that no changes of ideological significance were being contemplated by Labour came on 3 April 2023 when a mischievous Sean Plunket asked Prime Minister Hipkins at his post-Cabinet media briefing: “How do you, and how does this government, define a woman?”

Hipkins all-too-obvious discombobulation, combined with his refusal to give the straightforward dictionary definition, “adult human female”, confirmed for the electorate that Labour was unwilling to deviate from the Orwellian strictures of transgenderism – easily the most aggressive manifestation of “woke” identity politics.

More importantly, Hipkins’ stuttering performance and his refusal to provide Plunket with a simple answer to his simple (if loaded) question indicated Hipkins’ unwillingness to step outside the ideological consensus then prevailing in Labour’s caucus.

Had he done so, the full wrath of his woke parliamentary colleagues would have been visited upon him and his leadership would instantly have become precarious.

Three months later, however, in July of 2023, Hipkins was confident that his infamous “captain’s call” ditching the plans of his Finance and Revenue ministers for a radical shake-up of Labour’s taxation policies would not provoke a caucus revolt.

The work of many hands, drawn from a broad spectrum of Labour’s friends and allies, Grant Robertson’s and David Parker’s proposed reform package would, almost certainly, have caused the electorate to take a second look at Labour.

Hipkins’ decision to cancel it: taken without consultation and announced from the Lithuanian capital, Vilnius; made it very clear that on neoliberalism, as on transgenderism, the laddie was not for turning.

Not then, and not now.

Not when unorthodox thinking, be it on economics or identity politics, remains a strictly minority sport in the New Zealand Labour Party.

On the Treaty of Waitangi Hipkins is even more immoveable.

The 2017 victory of the “Clarkist” faction, led by Robertson, Hipkins, and Ardern, was secured by the votes of Labour’s Māori caucus.

To move against the Treaty, singled out by the NZ Election Study as the issue most consistently associated with the tens-of-thousands of former Labour voters who turned away from the party in 2023, would have been as fatal to Hipkins’ leadership as denying that a man becomes a woman the moment he declares himself to be one.

To remain Labour’s leader, Hipkins must retain the support of the Māori caucus’s leader, Willie Jackson.

If Labour is able to form a government after 7 November 2023, Jackson will expect Hipkins to locate the Treaty ever-more-firmly at the centre of New Zealand’s constitutional arrangements. If Hipkins demurs, Jackson’s Māori caucus will combine with its woke Pakeha comrades to elect a more ideologically reliable prime minister.

No matter how distressing it is for Chippy to recall the painful memories of his separation and divorce from Jade, it pales in comparison to the hurt and humiliation that would follow even the most tentative attempts to separate (let alone divorce) himself from neoliberalism, the Treaty and identity politics.

When it comes to that polyamorous ideological relationship, breaking up will be very hard to do.

Something which any New Zealander thinking about voting Labour in 2026 would be well advised to keep in mind.

This essay was originally posted on The Good Oil website on Monday, 23rd March 2026.