DAVID LANGE
1942 - 2005
His huge frame dominated the house –Richard
Seddon garnished with humour. His wit sparkled. His charisma and folksy bonhomie
had an instant effect on those around him, in parliament and wherever he went.
But it didn’t last.
David Lange entered parliament in 1977 and
quickly established himself as the most entertaining member in the house. And by
demonstrating political acumen on top of his alluring personality he became
leader of the Labour party in less than six years. As he rose through the ranks
he exhibited impressive debating skills and ultra fast absorption and
comprehension of information.
Although Lange made an instant impression in
1977, Robert Muldoon was the key figure in NZ politics at the time and he too
was a dominating personality. And he ruled from a position of ultimate authority
as prime minister and minister of finance. David Lange’s backbench wit (and
wisdom) was seen as not much more than an entertaining sideshow.
But Lange was destined to also become prime
minister and there would be inevitable comparisons drawn between him and
Muldoon. Lange was better educated and a more eclectic reader than Muldoon. Both
were equally dominating in any company. Muldoon probably outscored Lange with
his retentive memory and certainly in political experience. In many other
respects there were stark differences. Muldoon was aggressive, ambitious and
disliked probing journalists. Lange was laid back - in fact lazy when compared
to the energetic Muldoon. He preferred to back away from a fight but revelled in
press conferences where he regularly deflected difficult questions by flaunting
his extensive vocabulary and trademark wit. Another significant difference was
that Muldoon surrounded himself with ministers who either shared his views or
would tamely defer to them. Lange on the other hand looked up to his ministers,
especially in the finance sector, to cover his own lack of knowledge or
interest. Muldoon’s cabinet was an extension of himself; Lange’s was a trusted
set of advisors on whom he depended heavily.
Throughout Muldoon’s eight and a half years he
remained recognisably the same man – changing only gradually as he became more
power-hungry and aggressive. In contrast, Lange’s ebullience and enthusiasm
lasted only for the best part of his first term, and then, dogged by a divided
caucus and personal health problems, he lapsed dejectedly into a state of
paranoid isolation as he saw his key ministers drift further and further away
from what he believed to be Labour’s core values. It was a dramatic
transformation. His deeply-split party lurched towards inevitable defeat after
six years in power.
David Lange was born in Otahuhu, Auckland, on
4 August, 1942. His school reported him as “humorous and cheerful” but made no
mention of academic ability. His rapid uptake caused his concentration to
quickly lapse and he lacked the energy to restore it. This continued at
university where he studied law and it wasn’t until he began practising in his
profession that his super-quick mind and intellectual brilliance finally showed
up.
David was raised in a comfortable middle-class
home. His father earned good money as a doctor and his mother was a nurse. Both
displayed an excellent command of language. Phoebe Lange was severe and
opinionated and David was more devoted to his father. In fact it was an unjust
act of litigation against his father that pointed David towards his initial
career path. A patient had claimed to be the victim of inappropriate acts when
Roy Lange fitted a birth control device. The doctor spent time in prison on
remand but was quickly acquitted by a jury after a trial which David, aged 11,
had attended and followed closely. The experience left him in no doubt that law
was going to be his career.
He graduated in 1967 and married in 1968.
After working in various law firms he finally took his studies more seriously
and enrolled for a masters degree in 1970, graduating with first class honours.
By now he was a huge man, and with a voice to
match. He topped 27 stone (171 kg) – the result of compulsive eating from
childhood. He was an imposing figure in the courtroom. He spurned supreme court
work, preferring instead to deal with lower socio-economic clients. They could
be handled quickly, unlike cases in the higher court which took much more time
to prepare and were rather less compatible with his low boredom threshold.
David’s father was always left-leaning in his
politics despite his profession – maybe because of his exposure to the plight of
less well-off patients. He had met both Walter Nash and Arnold Nordmeyer while
at university. As a teenager, David would attend political meetings with his
father and he was particularly impressed when hecklers skilfully tested the
speakers. But although he had joined the Labour party in 1963 he was in no rush
to become involved beyond that. Between1971 and 1976 (the period during which
his three children were born) he engaged in a variety of public or community
activities and his booming voice became familiar at least at local level. He
hosted talk-back radio and chaired the Auckland council of civil liberties. He
dipped his toe into politics by standing for the Auckland city council in 1974
and for parliament in the Hobson electorate in 1975. He was unsuccessful on both
occasions. Hobson in particular was a near-impossible seat for Labour to win –
for several elections it had run third behind both National and Social Credit.
Then in 1977, as a result of an incident
triggered by prime minister Robert Muldoon and known as the “Moyle Affair”
(referred to in the article on Bill Rowling), the Mangere seat became vacant.
Lange had enjoyed the earlier campaigns, exercising his verbal skills and
appetite for new challenges. He saw his chance in his home area and successfully
contested the seat, winning by a margin well beyond expectations. As it was a
by-election the eyes of the whole country were on it, presenting the
silver-tongued lawyer with the chance of a lifetime. He revelled in it and
within days of his win there were suggestions that the articulate, bubbly and
fun-loving new member was likely to be the next leader of the Labour party,
succeeding the comparatively low-profile Bill Rowling who had taken over after
the death of Norman Kirk in 1974.
It soon emerged that Lange enjoyed greater
popularity with the general public than he did with the non-parliamentary Labour
party officials and even some of his fellow caucus members. After his popular
win in Mangere he was elected to the party’s executive and in 1979 began his
rapid rise which many had predicted - replacing Bob Tizard as deputy leader.
These new senior roles entitled him to attend meetings of the organisational arm
of the party – a chore he detested. He often skipped a meeting or left early. It
was the result, as with many other things in his life, of his quick uptake and
subsequent boredom. He had little chance in those forums to engage (or perhaps
indulge) in his soaring rhetoric. But his performances in the house were
masterly – he was a born orator.
Popular with the party hierarchy or not, he
was destined almost from the day he entered parliament to rise to party leader.
A vote on the leadership was proposed in 1980 and it seemed clear that with some
telephone lobbying he could easily have swung the numbers his way. It was a
19-18 win for Bill Rowling. By 1982, after Labour’s third election loss to
Muldoon’s National party, Lange was making more serious moves. He was also
mindful of his health and physical size. Bariatric surgery in February, 1982 saw
his weight dramatically reduced and his image enhanced. He steadily gained
support in caucus and gave notice that he intended to contest the leadership
again in early 1983. Knowing the numbers were against him, Bill Rowling stood
down. In the leadership ballot Russell Marshall was the only other candidate and
Lange won 33-9. Geoffrey Palmer was elected deputy leader. The stage was now set
for a serious challenge to Muldoon in 1984.
Although winning support in caucus was gradual
his captivation of the country had been instantaneous from the moment he
campaigned for the Mangere seat. After his surgery he proceeded to raise his
profile still further by making a tour of electorate organisations, entertaining
audiences with his trademark oratory and making an impression with his new
slimmed down image. Having won the leadership in 1983, it was a simple step into
campaign mode in June, 1984 when Robert Muldoon announced a snap election.
But prior to this, something of a rift still
remained between Lange and the party organisation. He won the party leadership
through charisma, wit and the sheer rhetorical power. Not through organisational
skills, not by leading and inspiring his colleagues in their shadow portfolios
and certainly not by planning the party’s future or espousing any original
policies. But the country loved him and that’s what wins elections. The
administrative wing of the party was less enthusiastic and the party president,
Jim Anderton (always a Rowling supporter), had been lobbying against Lange’s
leadership. He represented the views of the organisational wing to some extent
but had a personal motivation also – he himself had designs on the leadership.
Lange saw Anderton as a threat but unlike Muldoon (or Kirk for that matter) who
would have chided Anderton and reminded him of his place, Lange merely tolerated
his meddling. But the inner conflicts within the party were picked up by the
wider public and Labour’s support dropped in the polls. Lange’s response: a 22
centre speaking tour. This wowed the voters once again and the stage was set for
a successful election campaign..
Muldoon’s clumsy handling of the snap election
announcement made a win for Labour a certainty and on 26 July, 1984 David Lange
was sworn in as New Zealand’s prime minister - nine days short of his 42nd
birthday and the country’s youngest to that point.
But even before the swearing in, a ten day
constitutional crisis arose which required the intervention of the Reserve Bank,
the Governor-General and some decisive action from the prime minister elect. The
crisis was the flood of NZ dollars out of the country in anticipation of a
devaluation. Surviving that crisis and earning plaudits from experts, the media
and the general public, the new government took office brimming with confidence.
As mentioned earlier, Lange was highly
dependent on his ministers, especially finance minister Roger Douglas. Douglas
had previous experience as a minister in the Kirk/Rowling government and quickly
emerged as the most able member of Lange’s cabinet. But, despite having
expounded his economic theories in a small book entitled “There’s got to be a
better way” in 1980, Douglas astounded everyone by launching a torrent of
radical reforms the moment he put his feet under the desk. He began by removing
import controls and tariffs – a move which flooded the market with cheap
clothing and other goods and forced local manufacturers to compete, diversify or
somehow make use of cheap imports themselves. Needless to say, jobs were lost
but large businesses such as The Warehouse arose to service consumers hungry for
cheaper products which admittedly had become over-priced in the previous heavily
protected manufacturing environment.
Next on Douglas’s agenda was de-regulating
interest rates and floating the NZ dollar. Then late in the term he set about
reforming the public sector in a move which had monumental consequences. Several
major trading arms of government were corporatized under the state-owned
enterprises act, to be controlled by boards of directors and required to return
a profit to the government. The sectors involved initially were energy,
forestry, airlines, the post office and the trading activities of the lands and
survey department. The argument was that these sectors were grossly over-staffed
and that millions had been pumped into them without a cent returned to the
government. It was the largest shake-up of government administration in NZ’s
history and didn’t end there. In 1988 the state sector act redefined the entire
public service, allowing chief executives greater freedom, requiring greater
efficiency and placing it under the supervision of a state services
commissioner.
Massive job losses occurred following these
reforms, dubbed “Rogernomics” by critics and supporters alike. But Douglas was
still not done. Subsidies traditionally paid to New Zealand’s high earning
industries were removed with one stroke of his ruthless pen. The top tax rate
was halved, business tax reduced and a new tax on spending – a goods and
services tax (GST) was introduced at 10% and later increased to 12.5%.
Douglas was following Margaret Thatcher in
Britain and Ronald Reagan in the United States, both of whom adopted free market
economies throughout the 1980s. While it may have effected much-needed
modernisation, the policy carried considerable social cost. The result in New
Zealand was a widening gap between rich and poor, slowly rising inflation
(though not to Muldoon’s level), high unemployment and slower than predicted
growth compared to other developed countries.
Where was the traditional Labourite David
Lange while all these seemingly anti-Labour reforms were being announced and
implemented? Right behind them. He trusted Douglas and agreed with him that the
country required modernising post-Muldoon. Douglas was briefing him before
making any major announcements, often with Lange by his side. It was Lange’s
mastery of language which helped sell the stream of reforms to an increasingly
bewildered public. But behind the scenes Douglas was left largely to his own
devices, with strong support from his associate ministers Richard Prebble and
David Caygill.
When Douglas first proposed his “better way”
Bill Rowling was leader and he vehemently expressed the view that it
contradicted everything Labour stood for. Rowling stood by the belief that the
state is there to assist people and protect them against the ravages of
uncontrolled market forces. Douglas responded by offering to leave parliament at
the 1981 election. He probably would have done so but for, ironically, David
Lange’s intervention. Believing he would eventually replace Rowling as leader,
if not in 1981 then surely by 1984, Lange promised Douglas that if he stayed on
and Labour won the election he would make him minister of finance. He believed
that, as prime minister, he would need Douglas in that role.
By 1985, now that he had Douglas where he
promised him, Lange trusted him to manage the country’s finances in his own way
while he himself turned to other matters. Mostly nuclear matters: nuclear
testing in the Pacific, a debate at the Oxford Union in England over the
morality of nuclear weapons (he sparkled at that internationally publicised
event), and especially, nuclear-free legislation. It was one of Labour’s
flagship policies and Lange had campaigned to eventually enshrine New Zealand’s
nuclear-free status in law. The “nuclear-free New Zealand bill”, which had
effectively brought down the Muldoon government in 1984, had declared the policy
but it would be three more years before the “New Zealand nuclear-free zone,
disarmament and arms control act” became law.
In the meantime the Labour caucus, wider party
membership and a large sector of the general population were keen to see the
policy to keep New Zealand nuclear free implemented and tested. A possible
stumbling block was the ANZUS (Australia, New Zealand and United States) treaty,
dating back to 1951. This arose in cold war conditions with the United States
and Soviet Union staring at each other from behind their nuclear arsenals. The
treaty guaranteed that if any of the three nations were threatened the others
would come to their assistance. It was a valued safeguard for New Zealand’s
security and regular ship visits by the United States navy to New Zealand ports,
either as courtesy calls or as part of naval exercises, were built into the
agreement.
Herein lay the problem. It had long been the
policy of the United States to neither confirm nor deny whether their ships or
aircraft were nuclear armed or powered. But now that New Zealand had declared
itself nuclear-free, no ship could enter unless it was proved, or declared, to
be non-nuclear. A stand-off was inevitable.
The consensus among New Zealanders, and
especially the naval hierarchy and senior defence officials, was that New
Zealand should remain in ANZUS. This was also the prevailing political view of
both major parties. But equally, the wider population was sold on New Zealand
becoming nuclear-free – in fact by the end of 1984 almost 40 towns and cities
had declared themselves nuclear-free zones.
In two private meetings with US secretary of
state George Shultz, David Lange conveyed the message that if a suitable ship
could be found, New Zealand would find a way to allow it to visit as part of an
ANZUS exercise scheduled for March, 1985 without compromising NZ’s nuclear-free
status. Misunderstandings prevailed on all sides. Schultz took that to mean that
NZ would soften its policy to allow ships in despite “neither confirm nor deny”
(NCND); Lange took it to mean that Schultz would find a ship that was either
verifiably non-nuclear, or was declared as such.
Lange was in the remote Tokelau Islands on a
goodwill visit when news broke in Australia that the US destroyer “Buchanan” was
scheduled to visit New Zealand under the NCND policy. Acting PM Geoffrey Palmer
had no knowledge of the Lange/Schultz meetings but addressed the more central
question – is this ship either nuclear-armed or propelled? He commissioned a
panel of experts to investigate and was advised that it was unlikely. But
politically, and for wider public consumption, Palmer needed something more
definite. It wasn’t forthcoming and he banned the visit. After Lange’s return
the cabinet endorsed the decision. Shultz was furious, feeling he had been
misled and that Lange had reneged on a promise. NZ/US relations were severely
damaged. The United States denied New Zealand intelligence information forthwith
and refused to exercise with them. Nominally New Zealand remained in ANZUS but
would finally withdraw in April, 1989.
The public in general supported the decision,
feeling the country was ready to become more independent and be seen taking a
brave stand on a major moral issue. It was also the prevailing view that
harbouring nuclear ships or arms could make New Zealand a target for attack. A
minority opposed the decision on the grounds that, without United States
support, our security was at risk.
In any event, early 1985 was a momentous
period for David Lange – his (or more accurately, Palmer’s) brave and
internationally reported stand against a major ally was quickly followed by
another (brief) moment of international glory. Lange debated the morality of
nuclear weapons at the Oxford Union against conservative preacher Jerry Falwell
– performing brilliantly and relishing the chance to exercise his oratory
talents on a wider stage. In hindsight this moment was the high point of his
entire career although it might have been matched later that year when he
eloquently defended New Zealand’s decision to prosecute two French secret
service agents for their part in sinking the Greenpeace ship Rainbow Warrior
when it was berthed in Auckland and about to sail for Mururoa (French Polynesia)
to protest against French nuclear testing.
Throughout all this the financial and state
sector reforms were proceeding at pace. They would be put to the test at the
1987 election. Here Lange’s message was that the financial woes of the Muldoon
years had been eliminated or corrected, admittedly at some social cost, but a
re-elected Labour government would invest the same energy to address those
social costs. It was a winning strategy and added a further seat to Labour’s
already handsome majority.
But from here, things began to unravel. Even
before the election David Lange seemed to be much more subdued. It was partly
the result of increasing health problems which in turn led to him more and more
often resorting to alcohol. His downbeat mood pervaded the caucus and after the
election win there was very little celebration. Lange was becoming increasingly
distrustful of Roger Douglas and worried over where his radical economic reforms
might lead. The state sector act referred to earlier was introduced soon after
the election and it was followed by a financial package formulated by Douglas
and put before the cabinet for approval. It was announced publicly just before
Christmas. Among other things it proposed a flat tax rate at an unspecified
level, a measure which did not sit comfortably with Lange even though he had not
opposed it.
Over Christmas Lange and his speechwriter
Margaret Pope (with whom he had formed a relationship and would later marry
after divorcing his wife Naomi), reviewed Douglas’s figures and decided they
didn’t add up. It was the beginning of a major fall-out between Lange and
Douglas and they exchanged angry letters. Lange promised to discuss the
financial package further in cabinet but reneged and without telling any of his
colleagues called a press conference in January, 1988 to announce unilaterally
that the flat tax policy and other changes would not be implemented. It
irreparably damaged his relationship with Douglas and his staunch supporter
Richard Prebble. Lange’s action was also disparaged by his normally loyal deputy
Geoffrey Palmer as contrary to cabinet collegiality.
Following Lange’s January announcement Labour
began slipping in the polls, their first drop since the election in August,
1987. Lange’s morale, popularity and health also began slipping. He was
hospitalised with heart problems and given an angioplasty. It was after his
release that he made his famous statement telling the nation that we needed to
hit the pause button on the financial reforms and “have a cuppa”. Drama
followed. Richard Prebble, minister in charge of state owned enterprises as well
as associate finance minister, was relieved of his position and then sacked
altogether for criticising Lange and implying that he was a sick man. By the end
of the year Roger Douglas stated publicly that he no longer had confidence in
Lange – a statement that prompted Lange to sack him from cabinet as well.
This didn’t stop the reform programme – the
party had campaigned on a promise to make the Reserve Bank more independent,
privatise more state assets and streamline local government from 817 local
bodies to just 94. Although Lange had supported these campaign pledges he was
now viewing the trend with increasing alarm and seriously wondering what was
happening to the Labour party. He was not alone. New ministers Michael Cullen
and Helen Clark along with several of the 1987 intake were also concerned and
their speeches supported Lange’s desire for an economic u-turn.
Then in 1989 came Lange’s ill-timed
announcement that New Zealand was formally withdrawing from ANZUS after a year
of strained relations with both USA and Australia over New Zealand’s
inflexibility regarding ship visits – ill-timed because it was made on Anzac
Day. The government’s rating fell still lower and Lange’s approval fell to only
11%. In June Lange survived a caucus vote of no confidence by 28 votes to 24
with the majority of his cabinet voting against him. And the caucus wanted
Douglas back in cabinet, feeling he was the only person capable of restoring a
sense of direction to the party. Two vacancies had arisen and party rules
required the full caucus to elect the replacements with the PM then free to
allocate portfolios. As expected, Douglas was voted back in. That was the final
straw for Lange – he gave notice of his resignation on 7 August 1989, effective
the following day. The announcement stunned the country. While the public was
losing confidence in him as leader they still relished his entertainment value.
He even managed to put a positive spin onto his resignation announcement: “I
intend to enjoy the rest of my time in parliament, but not as prime minister.”
In a jovial press conference he confirmed that his deputy Geoffrey Palmer would
replace him.
Palmer acknowledged Lange’s skills by naming
him attorney-general (outside cabinet). After Labour’s almost inevitable defeat
in 1990 Lange remained a back-bench opposition MP (still effusing his sparkling
wit) until his resignation from parliament in 1996.
David Lange’s final nine years were riddled
with health problems, including open heart surgery and, a week before he died, a
leg amputation due to circulatory failure. But his sense of humour remained and
he had earlier teamed up with poet and humorist Gary McCormick for a series of
stage appearances. He wrote an autobiography which was published just before his
death.
The cracks of division within the Labour party
had begun to show at an early stage and steadily widened. There were always
those, led by Lange, Palmer, Anderton, Clark and others, who believed things
were moving too far to the right and too fast, even if they agreed that the
Muldoon controls were too severe and outdated and had to be dismantled. They saw
the lower classes being disadvantaged and that went against everything Labour
had traditionally stood for. Then there were those (Douglas, Prebble, Caygill,
Bassett, De Cleene and others) who sincerely believed the reforms were needed
and relished the speed at which they were implemented. Financially, the signs
were becoming positive by 1989 and new finance minister David Caygill’s first
budget reported increased growth, a reduced deficit and lower inflation. But
deep divisions remained. It wasn’t until the next Labour government was elected
in 1999 that unity was restored.
Amidst the turmoil Lange himself was the
dominant figure. Whatever misfortunes befell the party and him personally his
remarkable attributes always shone through. He had an instantly recognisable
voice, a huge vocabulary and could enthral the house every bit as well as
Richard Seddon. Until 1987 his ebullience and jollity exceeded every other New
Zealand prime minister and he was more entertaining on television than any
before him or since. From 1987, as he trusted his colleagues less and less he
became long-winded and dispirited. But even when feeling forlorn and isolated he
never lost his tantalising turn of phrase.
It wasn’t just the divisions in his cabinet
that gradually brought him down. His marital situation (referred to briefly
earlier) was a factor and, most significantly, his health. He continued a long
line of popular prime ministers who became a shadow of their former selves in
their final months or (sometimes) years: Richard Seddon, William Massey, Joseph
Ward, Sidney Holland and Norman Kirk.
David Lange was a remarkably clever man and a
lightning-fast thinker. He radiated the sort of confidence and charisma that the
country needed after the Muldoon years. He lacked skills in key areas, notably
finance, but proved a brilliant public advocate for controversial policies as
long as he himself believed in them. His cabinet was highly talented and the
Lange government could have been one of New Zealand’s best had it remained
united.
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