America – Making yachting great (again).

I don’t know if yachting was ever ‘great’. Maybe it was for the Aussies when they won in 1983, or for our boys in 1995 and again in 1999. But every four years, I am obliged by my duty as a Kiwi to check in and support the latest iteration of Emirates-Toyota-Nespresso-Omega-Steinlager Team New Zealand. Whether this fulfills some sort of benign nationalistic sentiment, or just the nostalgia of hearing Peter Montgomery’s voice again, I’m not really sure.

I loathe the experience much less now than what I once did. Nowadays the boats are actually fast, they literally fly above the water and the lead can frequently change hands. This means I don’t need to expend much energy exhibiting faux support for a sport I don’t really understand. And after 20 odd minutes, I can absorb the result and start considering which Maccas breakfast bagel I’d like to start the day with.  After All, the golden arches of a supposedly ‘culture-less’ America are a pretty satisfying way to celebrate our successes over Uncle Sam.

Back when I was a teenager, the America’s Cup was different. There were two boats that would move to opposite ends of a playing circuit. They would awkwardly eyeball each other, moving closer and then further away again.  The process would repeat for a few painful hours as they sailed up and down the same space a few times. Eventually a gun would go off signalling an end to proceedings and the facade of a ‘good day’s racing’ would be over. For that reason watching the America’s Cup in the 1990’s was eerily similar to the church sanctioned dances I was allowed to attend around that time – lots of jibing and not a lot of action.

So, we should thank Oracle – because they have made a yachting competition mildly interesting. But we won’t because it’s Oracle. Ellison, Coutts, and Spithill may as well be the incarnation of Hades’ underworld. It is a characterisation all too willingly portrayed by our media; a ‘rich’ American, a ‘sellout’ Kiwi and an ‘arrogant’ Australian. Alas, the classic Kiwi pastime – loosely categorising our not-even-bro adversaries on the basis of some overly generalised personality trait. Tell me, why is it is that the Aussie and American yachting professionals that joined our team are not subject to the same vitriol from the New Zealand media? Hurr Durr, New Zealand *waves flag*. It seems that wherever possible, Americans especially should be condemned.

For what though? It appears through talking to my fellow countrymen that the current gripe is that these pesky Americans are coming to our shores and spending shitloads of money. Oh, how dare they!  Frankly, it is this boneheaded logic that continues to dominate the talking points of middle class New Zealand, a small town-style insecurity. Once upon time it was not that they were ‘rich’ but that they were ‘dumb’, remember that? Apparently, most Americans couldn’t even locate where New Zealand was on a map – we were outraged. Then the LOTR series came along, as well as Google and Lorde, and all of a sudden we got cool.

Sorry, I meant – they got cool.

See, Americans learned where to find New Zealand – while we stood, hands on hips. Which I find odd because the average Kiwi still cannot point to Georgia on a map. You know, that state which is twice our size. The place that has hosted a modern Olympics and was the birthplace of Julia Roberts, Jimmy Carter and Martin Luther King? Yeah, that place.

We also offer scant acknowledgement of the millions of dollars Oracle and other syndicates have spent building yachts in New Zealand.  Or that they have hired New Zealanders to customise, test, race and repair them. Instead, many Kiwis will continue to bemoan the entire event, wherever it takes place. “How could one extol such a waste of taxpayers’ money?” they ask. Never mind that our mere participation in such events is an enviable marketing platform for our booming tourism sector. Heck, that’s not even counting if we actually win the damn thing.

Don’t get me wrong, I do hope we win next week. I hope we kick Oracle’s ass. Watching Spithill eat his own smug face would make for great TV, heck I might even watch it. But if we lose I’m not going to throw a tantrum, I am not going to whinge that the other side bent the rules to suit them. Because, like much of the angst Kiwis have towards everything that is American, it could be deemed to be just a little bit too hypocritical.

TL;DR?  Popularity is best served with a side of humility.  Lets support our yachting team and everyone else that supports our country.


Explaining privilege – without getting a latte to the face.

Sitting in an undergraduate class a few years back I remember the lecturer, a white woman, asking each of the straight white men (SWM) to explain what they thought of SWM privilege. I yawned, and most guys in the room slumped in their seats. We were either unamused at the prospect of being labelled ‘privileged’ or unimpressed by a woman suggesting it, or both. She was one of those rusted on liberals that would use each of her lectures to make what I felt were crude and not so coded political arguments (and other ‘trendy shit’). As had become a pattern during the semester, I had already registered my ambivalence by consuming a substantial quantity of whisky the night before. Some of the SWM disagreed entirely with the notion of privilege and used the pulpit to exhibit their confidence as an SWM confronting a female lecturer.   

I never saw myself in a position of privilege to start with. As such, it was pointless giving the notion any further thought. I’m privileged? Lol, wot? What about height privilege! I am 5 ft 7 (does she not know how much harder it is to ‘pick up’, than say 5 ft 11?), my hair was falling out too and I had a 60k student loan and a train wreck of false career starts.

At that time I felt there was really only one sensible response to a woman suggesting to me that I was privileged: Fuck you.

Though not long after, I met two young Maori women while out in the community. Their grades prior to leaving high school had been pretty good, and thus I suggested they attend a foundation studies course at the local University. As I was providing the link between the University, their home and social services I figured they would do alright.  

In the week preceding their studies I took one of the young women to a social services office so she could switch her income support to a tertiary funding arrangement. Her case manager offered these words in support: ‘You do realise there’s a stand down period if you need to reapply for dole, don’t you.  What are you going to do when you drop out?’ My mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.  

Despite their initial enthusiasm, both started missing classes after the first 2 weeks and within the space of 8 weeks both had left, even though one of them was still comfortably passing. I asked what happened, and they both said the same things, ‘they didn’t feel like it was a place for them’ and that ‘none of their other friends went to uni’. The whole experience led to some fairly painful introspection; I had blindly assumed that by bringing these young women to a new environment, a place with ‘limitless opportunities’, I had magically altered the trajectory of their lives for the better.  

Privilege can loosely be categorised as one of three things: acquiring an otherwise hidden knowledge of how to go about something, having an assumed competence or proficiency in something or having a more illuminated pathway toward something that is less accessible by others.  I had all of these things on my first day at University: family members that had attended University, some even at the same institution; strong references from high school teachers; and an abundance of people wandering around campus who looked like me and talked like me.  As McIntosh points out, privilege is an invisible system conferring dominance to a particular group in society. It is a virtue of certain individual characteristics not of your own making (such as your sexuality, skin colour or gender).  

So where do SWM fit into this discussion? Well, let us transpose for a moment two persons with the same basket of circumstances. They are both 5 ft 7 and are ageing faster than they would like, they are both deep in student debt and have gone in circles trying to establish a career only to return to University years later. Now assume that you could choose to be one of these people + a SWM or a Gay Brown Female (GBF), and that your goal in life is upward mobility.  Who stands a better shot at making it through University, applying for a job, being promoted and secure a housing lease in a ‘desirable’ area? Considering all the structural disadvantages at play for females, homosexuals and ethnic minorities, you would surely respond with SWM. And that is what SWM privilege is, a relative term. Your life could still be pretty shit, even as an SWM. It could even be more shit than every GBF you know (but chances are you wouldn’t know many GBFs anyway).  

So is there someone else to blame for not explaining that SWM privilege is a relative thing or have SWM, like myself, never really been interested in hearing about it in the first place? I don’t know the answer to that question. But the implications are important for election campaigns taking place in liberal democracies all over the world.

Just ask Jeremy Corbyn, whose own UK Labour Party is desperately trying to win back the support of working class voters who are now more likely to vote for the Conservative Party. Wait, what? So working class people are now more likely to vote for tax cuts and a reduction in the outlay of social services?  How the fuck did that happen? 

Is it because they fled Labour after being confronted with their privilege, or am I now the one making crude and not so coded political arguments?  

TL;DR?  SWM privilege is a thing, in relative terms.  I started wearing hats in 2010.

Why they can’t impeach him, yet.

Conduct a quick Google search of US President ‘Donald Trump’ right now and you’ll no doubt find someone of political purpose suggesting the real estate mogul and TV star is heading down the road toward impeachment – a congressional ‘you’re fired’ of sorts.  The catalyst for such murmurings was itself the sensational firing of FBI director James Comey a few days ago. Ccorrespondents were quick to compare Trump’s actions with President Nixon’s attempt to shut down investigations into what was then his own alleged wrongdoing. (Spoiler alert: Nixon did end up being a crook and was eulogized in such a way by his decades long adversary, the writer Hunter S. Thompson).

Be that as it may, impeachment can’t happen – not yet and not for a while – and not just for the reasons already stated.  It has already been pointed out that Nixon’s demise was not an overnight affair, removing a sitting president is a more convoluted process than the ‘slash and burn’ nature of the New York businessman’s previous experiences in the corporate world.  But institutional factors and constitutional due process are only part of the puzzle, there is a more thorny reason that only the most audacious congressperson would ignore before supporting the impeachment of President Trump: His 45 million or so red blooded, rusted on supporters.  Yes, his popular vote was some 63 million, but with every President there’s a core constituency and a soft vote. Trump’s hard-to-dissuade core is probably somewhere around this 45 million mark and they are going to take longer to change their minds.   

Such is the political culture of US election cycles, the executive branch (those who require the support of Congress and the Senate to advance their legislative agenda) are in a perpetual cycle of campaigning.  Trump has so far avoided questions of conflicting interests by having his business empire bill his 2020 re-election campaign for services ranging from hotel accommodation to golf clubs.  But 2020 is a long way away, what matters is the 2018 midterms and that is a campaign already in full swing. All 435 seats in congress are up for the taking, or more to the point, 435 Republican congressional primaries for some 200 odd Republicans who will likely be seeking re-election.  Add to that a handful of Republicans up for re-election in the senate, in the deep red states of Alabama, Tennessee, Missouri and Texas.

Democrats, many of whom still speak with a level of incredulity about the presence of Trump in the White House, have dedicated the past 4 months to picking apart each of his orange glazed gaffes and hypocritical backflips.  Meanwhile, the same commentators point to a decline in Trump’s popularity, some 10% since his inauguration according to RealClearPolitics.  They hope that as a potential indictment becomes closer to materialising it can be married to a swift impeachment process with the blessing of a voting constituency outraged by a man they once trusted to be their commander and chief.

Delusion is indeed a powerful drug, for every rant featuring in liberal leaning publications that seek to debase a man they claim has already filed for moral bankruptcy; there is one simple appointment that overrides the mood of Conservative voters:  Neil Gorsuch.  Long will it be forgotten that it was the establishment Republicans who stalled the nomination of a Supreme Court nominee until after the 2016 election.  It was Trump that promised to crush the Clintons and install a conservative Chief Justice – and that is exactly what he did.  Whether Trump had some help from outside influences is virtually a red herring in the minds of those still smarting at the idea that gay couples can order a cake from their shop (and eat it).    

So the political reality for Republican lawmakers is that Trump’s support is still strong among the very people who will decide the fate of such lawmakers in the aforementioned primaries.  The religious fervour of his supporters can be mobilised in numbers substantively higher than what has been accomplished by the Tea Party in recent congressional elections.  And like the Tea Party, he could quite easily direct his faithful to stand against the incumbents wavering from the platform of populist conjecture he rode into the White house.  While the Tea Party arguably peaked as a movement in 2014, and with only limited actual successes, it showed that incumbency is neither sacrosanct nor guaranteed.  This is now the blueprint for an embattled President, with all the powers that the apparatus of the executive branch of Government brings.

Unlikely you say?  About as unlikely as Trump Presidency, one would have thought.

TL;DR?  Getting your man nominated to the Supreme Court > Everything else. Impeachment won’t happen till 2019, if at all.