I was very pleased to see the Cluster Munitions Prohibition Bill pass in the House last Thursday. I am grateful to my colleagues who allowed me to speak on this Bill as it is a personal issue for me. I was Humanitarian Coordinator in Lebanon at the time of the Israeli-Hizbollah conflict and witnessed the effect of cluster bombs first hand. Here is a link to my speech. 

David Shearer opening the Taupo Hilton

David Shearer opening the Taupo Hilton

Taupo Mayor Rick Cooper, Head of Hilton Australasia Ashley Spenser and David Shearer

I was very pleased to be invited to the opening of the Taupo Hilton Hotel. The Hilton will attract many thousands of people across the world who are allured by the Hilton brand, or connected to its extensive network of advertising.

It will further publicise Taupo as an all-season destination with world class attractions and amenities.

The opening was warmly led by Te Ngati Tuwharetoa, the Tangata Whenua of Taupo, who acknowledged their ancestral connections to the Hilton site.

I feel very privileged to be here today to honour and celebrate the years of hard work, discipline and achievement that you, those who will graduate have put in.
You have had the opportunity to attend UNITEC, NZ’s largest polytechnic that is held up for its excellence in so many fields.
Its real added value is that it is able to combine not only high class learning and knowledge, but the practical application of that understanding, so that in the various workplaces that each of you go to, you’ll be able to hit the ground running.
And, UNITEC is also situated in Mt Albert, perhaps the most wonderful electorate in New Zealand.
And I’m very pleased that UNITEC and Mt Albert are collaborating on a number initiatives that will bring it and the surrounding community closer together. Because each can breathe life into the other.
But this day is for you, the graduates of today – and for your families and friends to feel rightly proud too – because I imagine that many of you relied on the love and love and support of others to get you through – and possibly their sacrifice.
So I hope you, the graduates, give those who might have suffered with you on this journey of learning a big hug and say thank you.
One of the privileges of speaking at a graduate ceremony is that you get a chance to give some unsolicited advice to a captive audience. And, I don’t want to miss that opportunity.
It’s been some time since I graduated, but I’ve seen a little bit of life in that time, often in some pretty rough places. In fact for most of the last 20 years I’ve worked in many of the world’s worst wars and famines for the United Nations and other organisations.
If someone had told me when I graduated that that was where I was likely to end up I would have thought they were crazy.
In fact, some of you here might think you know exactly what you’re going to do in life and that’s great. Though, expect the odd surprise. But most of us don’t have any clue. I’ve spent most of my life wondering what I was going to do when I grew up.
Four months ago, I was in Iraq working for the United Nations. I was heading a $2 billion rehabilitation budget and in charge of several hundred people. We had built or rebuilt several hundred schools, quite a few hospitals, three power stations and a host of other things.
It wasn’t the most pleasant of environments – there was a war going on and a number of people were trying rather hard to kill us, but it was a very satisfying career. And I loved my job.
Then late one night, while I was sitting in a sandbagged room in Baghdad, I got a call asking if I’d like to stand as an MP for Mt Albert. I left the UN came back to NZ, was selected as a candidate and went through a pretty tough by-election before coming an MP not yet 3 months ago.
Now I sit in Parliament on the backbenches as part of the opposition. The only advantage having a seat that far back is that I get a pretty good view of the back of Rodney Hide’s head and can slip out to the toilet without being noticed.
Many people asked me, why on earth, I’d leave a promising and lucrative career in the UN to become a politician at the end of the world.
I’ll answer that, but before I do, I want to give three pieces of advice as you head out into the future.
So here’s my advice – don’t’ worry none of them is that I think you should be a politician.
First, be passionate about what you do. Listen to this (head), but follow this. Follow your heart.
When you’re passionate about something, you enjoy it, work harder and will be much happier for it. Follow your dreams.
Second, take the risks. The things I regret in life are those things that I didn’t do – not those I did. That’s not to say I don’t regret a few things that I’ve done. But when I didn’t feel brave enough, or ready enough to have a go at – those are the things which a little while later I thought, I wish I’d had a go, I think I could have done it. Angry with myself. So, my advice, have a go, stretch yourself.
Elizabeth Kubler-Ross wrote a book, called ‘On Death and Dying’ who interviewed people at the end of their lives. An old lady looking back on her life said she wished she’d eaten more chocolate and less brown rice. Lived a bit more on the edge, taken a few more chances, not gone the safe route.
And, finally, whatever job, or career you do, see it as something bigger than your own self interest. Generous with your advice, helping a colleague, doing the right thing for your organisation or office, not just to benefit you. Contribute to the community. Give a little more, not because it helps you, but because it
That ‘s not to be own yourself. Not just getting you further up the career, but somteing Think the people I admire most in the world worked for something bigger than themselves. They’ve thought beyond
That’s not to ask you all to be Mother Theresa or Nelson Mandela, but think bigger than you.
So, why did I leave a successful career in the UN and return to NZ as a backbench MP? Because it was a new and something I’d never done before, because, I knew I’d almost certainly regret it if I didn’t have a shot, and I believed that I can do something positive, this time for my country.
Because I’m a pretty passionate New Zealander – and I hope you are too.
So love what you do, whatever it is. Get really good at it. Live boldly and don’t .
Once again, my congratulations to the graduands today. Savour the moment, you’ve deserved it, and don’t forget to give those who helped you along the way a big hug.
Thank you.

Te Whare e tū nei, te Whare Pāremata o Aotearoa, e tū, e tū. Ki ngā mema o tēnei Whare, tēnā koutou katoa. Ki ngā manuhiri kei te Whare, tēnā koutou katoa. E te iwi whānui o Aotearoa, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā tātou katoa. Tēnā koe, Mr Deputy Speaker.

[To the House, the Parliament House of New Zealand standing before me, stand for ever. Greetings to the members of this House, and visitors present, greetings to us all. To the general public of New Zealand, greetings, greetings, and greetings to you all, and to you, Mr Deputy Speaker.]

I begin by saying thank you to the people of Mt Albert. It is my honour to represent and serve you all as your member of Parliament. Maiden speeches by members representing Mt Albert are rare events. In 62 years, Mt Albert has had only two MPs. I follow illustrious predecessors. Helen Clark will be remembered as one of New Zealand’s great Prime Ministers. But on the campaign trail I became aware of another side of her political life: 28 years serving as a devoted electorate MP, respected by Mt Albert residents across the political spectrum. Before her was Warren Freer, a Cabinet Minister and steadfast MP who served Mt Albert for 34 years.

I thank the many supporters, Labour Party members, and particularly the longstanding and dedicated electorate committee workers who have stood with me and worked so tirelessly. This result is a credit to your efforts. I see it as a portent of 2011. To the other candidates, thank you for a clean and fair contest. The Mt Albert electorate is both young and old. Forty percent of its people were born outside of New Zealand, and it has been an entry point for many new New Zealanders and home to an extraordinary diversity of people—Pacific Islanders, Indians, Chinese, Somalis, Sri Lankans, and many others.

One of those was a teenager who introduced himself to me as a Tampa boy. He was a refugee off the freighter the Tampa, which was stopped from landing in Australia and was stranded in the Indian Ocean until the Labour Government, in the face of negative opinion polls, opened the door for those refugees to come to New Zealand. We did what was right, and now we can feel very justified. His English is fluent, he is studying at the Auckland University of Technology, and he is so very proud to be a New Zealander. He and so many others are shaping the future face of New Zealand. They were attracted here by hope and opportunity, as were our ancestors. They are emblematic of our country’s history.

Mt Albert is also made up of longstanding residents who can trace their roots back for generations, often within the same neighbourhoods. They are the soul of the strong and caring communities of Point Chevalier, Kingsland, Waterview, Ōwairaka, Sandringham, and Mt Albert itself. Cohesive communities, with strong identities, are safer. They are the places where people watch over each other, their kids, their elders, and their neighbours. Unfortunately today in many of those communities they feel alienated from political decision-making. They are rallying against issues that many feel have been foisted upon them: the super-city, the new motorway, and new projects that undermine their environment. It is clear to me that my job is to listen, to protect, and to promote the communities that the people want in Mt Albert and elsewhere.

I am a passionate New Zealander with deep roots in Auckland and this country, but I have also lived and worked in some of the countries that our migrants have come from, so I see New Zealand through a slightly different lens. What we have is all too rare in this world. It feels very right to be here. Just a few weeks ago I was sitting in a sandbagged room in Baghdad, agonising about whether to put my name forward to stand in Mt Albert. It was a tough decision. I was overseeing the UN’s effort to reconstruct Iraq, and supporting people who had suffered terribly for over 30 years. So I did what I have often done, I spoke at length with my wife, my family, and my close friends—people whose love and support I have depended on all my life. I am proud that my wife Anuschka and my children Vetya and Anastasia can be here with me today. Some argued against it. “What are you thinking?”, they asked. “You’ve got a family, a successful career, why jettison all that for a life in politics?”. Their view reflects the same frustration I hear in Mt Albert, that our politics is not listening or responsive to people. My decision ultimately came down to believing that I can make a real and positive difference—something that has motivated my life; and something that I have done elsewhere.

Most of my life has been spent in war zones and famines in other parts of the world. In those jobs I have been bombed, shelled, and shot at. I have been told that that is probably quite good training for Parliament. I have worked for the United Nations and Save the Children in Iraq, Gaza, Rwanda, Somalia, Sri Lanka, and other places. These are the places where one confronts the very worst of the world, and I have sat and negotiated with people who orchestrated destruction and misery. But it is also where you meet the best. I have had the great fortune and privilege to work alongside people whose daily lives are routinely heroic. People such as Hamada, who has been unable to leave Gaza for over 3 years because of the Israeli blockade yet still reports reliably and objectively to the UN about the death and bombardment around him; or Abdi, a Somali nurse, who twice a day fed more than 2,000 starving under-fives in an area of Mogadishu that was continually under shellfire. Or people such as my staff in Baghdad, who take two to three taxis a day to avoid being followed, knowing that if they were identified as working with the UN, their families risk kidnapping or worse.

I am proud to say that these people—and there are dozens, hundreds, of others—have been part of my life. They have inspired me, each in their own way, fighting to make a difference in their family and their community against injustice and against a system weighted to deny people a fair go. They are a reminder to me that we can all make a difference. I see that same spirit in New Zealand. Those values of justice, fairness, and opportunity are ingrained within our collective DNA. It is demonstrated in the many, many people who contribute selflessly to their communities, heading the sports clubs, historical societies, and environmental groups, and who help our new arrivals into our communities or advocate for the rights of workers and the dispossessed, contributing in some way to make our community, our country, a better a place.

This is a great country of wondrous landscapes, of proud achievements. We have had significant moments of nation-building. Our stand on nuclear ships has been called “New Zealand’s war of independence”. It was personal to me because it was my political awakening. We took a brave decision on the Iraq war, and the right one. We should exalt in this independence and be proud to project our values. We should be confident then to become an independent country and reject the need for another nation’s flag in the corner of our own. My experiences convince me that New Zealand can be a leader, can make a difference in the world, and can influence powerful countries. Norway, with a similar population, has been at the forefront of international peace efforts—we can do the same.

I have seen our armed forces and police overseas and they are without equal, not just for their professionalism, but, more important, for the values and attitude they hold, and for their ingrained sense of fair play and justice, which is part of our New Zealand character. We have the can-do attitude; we need the vision. Let us be bold; let us see what is possible.

Many times when I was in far-flung places I was sustained by the thoughts of our beaches, our bush, our mountains, and our lakes. Our deep love of the landscape is part of our shared cultural identity as New Zealanders, no matter where we came from. It motivated me to study environmental management. It led me to work for the Tainui Trust Board where I had the privilege to work for Sir Robert Mahuta—the father of my fellow MP, Nanaia—in his pioneering work on Māori development. That experience forced me to confront raupatu—the confiscation of Māori land and taonga. It is an injustice just as real in the hearts of those I met on Waikato marae as what I later encountered in conflicts throughout the world. Through the Waitangi Tribunal we are redressing this legacy and recasting the story, but we still have a way to go. Addressing tribal rights has yet to fully translate into better education, health, and prison statistics for Māori. This is perhaps our biggest challenge as a country. It is a responsibility that belongs to us all, but mostly for Māori to chart and shape their own destiny.

Are we environmental leaders? We do OK. We have made good progress protecting our endangered species, parks, and fisheries. We are famed for our landscape; we trade on our clean, green image. My worry is that our actions are falling short of our talk. Our environmental policy is hesitant and lags behind other Western nations where our main consumers live. We can be leaders. It is not only good for New Zealand business, it is good for our children, and essential for the planet. We must be bold.

New Zealand was built on individual initiative, hard work, strong businesses, a farming backbone, and the efficiency of a free market. But we are not a collection of individuals. We are all in it together and everybody needs a fair go at opportunity. We do need to look after one another; our country was also built on that. Individual aspirations and collective responsibility—these are two faces of the same coin. Personally, I have never been able to separate them, to put one above the other. Each improves the lives of our citizens and unlocks our potential as a nation.

Let us take education as an example. A few years ago I transported exam papers across the frontlines during the Sri Lankan civil war. I saw from the look on the faces of those who received them just how important that mission was. Because in the midst of destruction and hunger, those papers represented the future hopes of our young people for a better life. It was their opportunity; their fair go. We provided a hand, they took the step. It was a chance to take control of their lives and to reach for something better. That is what all parents want for their children wherever they are. It is what I want and value for mine.

We depend on our Government to guarantee our educational opportunities, opportunities that are not simply as good as elsewhere in the world, but better, so we can compete in the world. In this fast-changing world, our learning needs to be lifelong, not just in school. We need an ethos of learning, continual training, upskilling, and community education. We cannot allow our kids and unemployed to drop out, and then shut the door on their opportunities to re-engage. That is not only a tragic waste for the individuals concerned, it is a collective failing, and, ultimately, we all lose. We also depend on our Government for a public health system that is not only world-class but is there when we most need it, and one that understands that preventing ill health is a whole lot better and a whole lot cheaper than curing it.

We face tough times: poverty, unemployment, and uncertainty are on the rise. Now is not the time to allow our ambitions to stagnate, either as a people or as a nation. Let us take research and development as another example. New Zealanders are natural innovators. Our scientists and entrepreneurs are the people who will chart our future prosperity; we cannot afford to be stingy with them.

Now is the time to boost opportunities and to be bold. I am a proud member of the Labour Party, a party of opportunity. It is a party responsible for most of the key milestones in our country’s development, and a party for our future. I have spoken about where I have come from and what I stand for. I am here to listen, to make a difference, to create opportunity, and to reach out to what is possible. I am told that what you say here will come back to haunt you. I hope it does. Tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou, tēnā koutou katoa.