Despite political screw-ups and scandal, New Zealand is in a relatively good place right now

Remember January 2020? We were young, carefree and full of hope. The political year in New Zealand started like any other but then the wheels came off spectacularly, and in a way none of us could have predicted.

Covid, coups, conspiracies, scandal, leaks, lies, leadership, lockdowns, misinformation, ministerial screw-ups, a sexting MP. It was immense – and that was before we hit the campaign trail.

Last week it was revealed that more than $300,000 from the public purse was spent in defamation proceedings after the speaker of the New Zealand parliament, Trevor Mallard, wrongly accused a former parliamentary staffer of being a rapist. On Wednesday Mallard fronted up to parliament’s governance and administration committee and apologised to the house and all New Zealanders for his “mistake”, a word he used three times in the first 90 seconds of the hearing.

Reading from a prepared statement, Mallard acknowledged his mistake was in saying that the allegations against the individual, in the context of the 2019 Francis review into bullying and harassment of staff at parliament, amounted to rape, that his understanding of the definition of rape at that time was incorrect and that the alleged conduct did not amount to rape.

Royal commission into abuse in state care between 1950 and 1999 found victims were ‘most disadvantaged or marginalised’

A quarter of a million New Zealanders held in state care suffered some form of abuse, a landmark inquiry has found, with the true number believed to be higher.

The royal commission into abuse in state care is investigating historic abuse of children, young adults and vulnerable adults by state-run institutions between 1950 and 1999, as well as in affiliated religious institutions, such as church-run orphanages.

The lights are on, but the party’s over - in the time of Covid, we can’t even buy duty-free

Everything seemed just the same when I flew into Wellington this week, which is to say the last 10 minutes were a living hell. Hello turbulence, my old friend. The plane sank like a rock, the wind picked it up again and flung it left, then right; down below, the waters of Cook Street boiled and fumed. But it’s a familiar nightmare. It’s just the way it almost always is when you fly into Wellington.

The truly disorienting part of arriving was walking through Wellington domestic airport.