A day with Winston Peters on the 'Had Enough?' campaign

This was Winston Peters' cuppagate moment; this was when the canny old politician saw the chance to grab the election by the scruff of the neck. In Northland, we join him in what may be the defining week of the 2017 election campaign.

Willow-Jean Prime gave birth to her first daughter, Hihana, six days before the 2015 Northland by-election was called. She campaigned for Labour with the baby on her hip. And last month her second baby Heeni arrived, just weeks from the general election.

At the back of the Wellsford meet the candidates meeting, Prime's mum holds dark-haired Heeni to her chest in a blue sling and quietly rocks her to sleep. At the long table at the front, Prime tells this story to illustrate her commitment to politics, to Northland, to winning the vote of the 60-or-so farmers in the big, cold room.

CHRIS MCKEEN/Stuff.co.nz Winston Peters, campaigning in Whangarei, has talked about the revelations around his superannuation.

Matt King is the National Party candidate, though that's not his main job. "First and foremost I'm a husband and father of three beautiful children," King says.

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He's brought his wife Sarah. It's easy to guess which one she is: the only woman in the room under retirement age who's not there for business. "We met at Auckland University and as far as I'm concerned she was the catch of the century," King simpers.

Suit sleeves rolled up above the elbows, a bone carving around his neck, Ash Holwell is there for the Green party vote. He's not even the local candidate. "You don't need to know much about me, but it's an interesting story so here goes ..."

Yes, in this era of over-sharing, everyone wants to unburden themselves of their tear-jerking back-story. Personal anecdotes win votes.

CHRIS McKEEN/STUFF In this era of over-sharing, everyone wants to unburden themselves of their tear-jerking back-story. But not Winston Peters.

Except Winston. Here's what we learned about Winston Peters at that meeting: Nothing.

Does he live in Northland? Does he have a partner? Does he have kids or grandkids? Does he cry himself to sleep thinking of those 72,000 migrants coming through Auckland International Airport ("that's the population of Rotorua!") to take homes and jobs from hard-working Kiwis?

Who'd know. He's not saying.

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF Winston Peters, leader of the NZ First party, susses out his opposition candidates Willow-Jean Prime, Ash Holwell and Matt King at a Northland campaign debate in Wellsford.

He has no mum, no wife, no kids with him in the room. Instead, for nearly three hours, his partner Jan Trotman sits outside in the darkened carpark in a big black BMW SUV with "Winston Peters Northland MP" emblazoned on the side.

Hers is the shadowed face of Peters' bold new political cause: Privacy.

'EXTRAORDINARY INVASION'

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Privacy is a cause that Peters has made his own for a grand total of 12 hours, even since he picked up the phone to a call from Stuff political journalist Jo Moir at 7.30 that morning.

"It's dirty, it's rotten, it's underhand, it's just unethical, it's illegal," he stormed.

He was, of course, talking about the political story of the week. But not about the fact that he banked NZ Superannuation over-payments for three or more years, or that he had to repay up to $18,000 including interest.

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF Jan Trotman sits outside the candidates' debate in a black BMW SUV with "Winston Peters Northland MP" emblazoned on the side.

His fury was that someone (he believes the Inland Revenue, the Ministry of Social Development or the office of a Government minister) leaked the matter to the media: "This is characteristic of certain people's political behaviour and it needs to be stopped," he told Moir.

Trotman's part in this is that, because he lives with her as a de facto partner in their Auckland home, he was entitled only to the superannuation rate for someone living in a couple: Presently $645.56 a fortnight, before tax. Instead, he was being paid the single person's rate, pegged this year at $827.20 a fortnight if one is sharing accommodation.

Peters turned 65 in 2010 and began claiming superannuation; when Trotman hit 65 this year and signed up, MSD realised the errors in Peters' payments.

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF Whangarei candidate Shane Jones joins his leader Winston Peters to host a talk with forestry industry bosses at the Northland Club in Whangarei.

To be fair, Trotman has always been protective of her privacy. When the couple bought their three-level five-bedroom St Marys Bay villa in 2008, she told the Sunday News it was "nobody's business" where she was moving and with whom. The paper reported she broke down in tears and said questioning about her home purchase was "extraordinary" and "invades my privacy".

Peters, on the other hand, has previously put the public interest (as he sees it) ahead of privacy. Remember, it was he who made famous a certain notorious winebox full of leaked Inland Revenue records, back in 1994.

And in 2011, it was he who called for the publication of the infamous cuppagate conversation between John Key and John Banks, inadvertently recorded by media invited to the political leaders' meeting at a Newmarket cafe. "The public interest," Peters said, "is so high that the media have a duty to publish".

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF "In the end we all have to live and look back and say to ourselves when our days in politics are over, did I do my best to tell my country the true state of affairs?"

He was right on both occasions: There was a public interest in transparency that outweighed the dubious claims to privacy made by affected businessmen and politicians. There was also a personal interest for Peters: In 1994 he built his fledgling NZ First with the Winebox as a cornerstone; in 2011, he stormed back into Parliament from the political wilderness with publicity about the recording of Prime Minister John Key laughing at elderly NZ First voters.

In 2017, he has done an about-turn. He is now the champion of privacy. And he is banking on his leaked overpayments to again make him the kingmaker on election day.

THE SUPER MOMENT

LAWRENCE SMITH / STUFF New Zealand First leader Winston Peters and his partner Jan Trotman cast their votes at the 2014 General Election.

Peters turned 65 on April 11, 2010. He called up and booked an appointment at the Papakura office of MSD, more than half an hour's drive down the southern motorway from his St Marys Bay home.

There are at least 18 Work and Income offices that are closer to home, but he had his rationale: "I looked around and thought, which one would be the one where I wouldn't have to wait that long, and I rang up and asked them, could I do it?"

The office, he recalls, was bland and characterless like most other government department offices. He was not an MP at the time, but nonetheless, he was a VIP client. As he hoped, he didn't have to wait long at all before sitting down with a senior official.

PETER MEECHAM / STUFF As Winston Peters issues a rally cry for government transparency, he and Trotman live very private lives.

"I didn't think that at that office they treated me differently. They were highly professional.

"The irony of this story is that I took Jan with me to sit in on the interview and the preparation of that application," he recalls. "I suppose it's my good fortune that I did. Because otherwise, they would try and allege I kept my relationship secret. Which it wasn't. The Sunday papers had long blown that out of the water."

He's refusing to release a copy of his superannuation application form, but he is absolutely categorically clear about one thing: He says he ticked the box to say he lived with a de facto partner.

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF Dot Pumipi, her fiance Shane Jones and NZ First leader Winston Peters listen to members of the Whangarei community while the biscuits sit forgotten.

So where is the line between privacy and public interest? If he had misled MSD in order to claim the higher payment, the public would deserve to know. He says he didn't. If he had subsequently learned of the overpayment but kept on claiming it, the public would deserve to know. Again, he says he didn't.

An MSD official called Peters and told him about the overpayment on July 24 this year, he says.

"I was absolutely aghast because I thought, this is not possible," he says. "So I stopped off what I was doing in Wellington, took a plane to Auckland. The first few times I phoned her I couldn't get her, but I kept on the case and got to her, and went and saw her. It was clear to me that they were handling it at a serious level."

CHRIS McKEEN/STUFF Peters was roused to words by a call at a Whangarei community house meeting for data-sharing. Peters knew all about date-sharing, to his detriment, he said.

This was just a week after Green Party co-leader Metiria Turei's polarising admission that she had deliberately misled Work and Income to claim a higher rate of domestic purposes benefit, when she was raising her baby daughter.

Common sense might dictate that Peters err on the side of transparency; that he clearly and openly distinguish between her deliberate act and his accidental overpayment. He did not. Instead, he waited until the media came calling.

His failure to front-foot the emerging scandal could have been a fatal mistake. A basic rule of political management is, set your own agenda. Don't be beholden to other politicians, to the media, to the fickle whims of circumstance.

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF While Labour is all positive, Peters' message to voters is dire: without him keeping government honest, the promises of other political parties will never be reality.

But Peters doesn't like rules. And within 36 hours he had turned this scandal on its head by forcing the Government to admit that senior Cabinet ministers Paula Bennett and Anne Tolley, and the prime minister's chief of staff Wayne Eagleson, had all been briefed on his overpayment in the days before it was leaked to the media. This was quite improper, and Peters made that very clear.

On Tuesday in Whangarei, he did five "stand-ups" with journalists by lunchtime. His rhetoric flowered; the Government cowered. Prime Minister Bill English conceded his Government should never have been briefed on an opposition MP's personal finances, least of all at the height of an election campaign. Peters had every right to be angry, he admitted.

The 72-year-old Peters was angry, genuinely so.

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF After building a career crusading for transparency, in 2017 Peters has done an about-turn. He is now the champion of privacy. And he is banking on his leaked overpayments to again make him the kingmaker on election day.

Here's the thing: Claiming a $21,500 taxpayer-funded pension at the same time as pocketing $210,000 public salary and allowances while living in a $2.5 million waterfront villa may not be a good look.

But with age comes experience. Peters has been off the cigarettes for six months; he put himself in "boot camp" over summer to get in shape; when National made a mistake, he was poised and ready. After spending most of the past 40 years in Parliament, Peters is like Karate Kid's wizened master Mr Miyagi, seizing the moment to use his bigger, lumbering opponent's strength against him.

This week he threw National on the mat.

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF Workers at the Rosvall Sawmill in Whangarei challenged Peters on wages, jobs and housing.

THE REGIONS WILL RISE AGAIN

The big black and white and blue bus comes up the driveway the wrong way. A man gets out to wave directions to the driver as he makes a three-point turn in the parking lot.

In the neighbouring childcare centre, a worker calls over some of her small charges to gaze over the fence at the shiny bus with the poorly-designed lettering: "Look, haere mai, it says Party New Zealand Vote First."

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF While Peters is fiercely private, it's no secret that he doesn't like rules. And if a scandal heads his way, he knows how to turn it on its head.

At Whangarei's One Double Five Community House, the foodbank workers and church ministers and community lawyers don't seem like natural NZ First allies. But they remember the support Peters gave them to get up and running.

They want to talk about jobs, about trains, about housing, about the importance of data-sharing between government departments so New Zealand's most vulnerable don't slip through the cracks.

Winston, leaning back in his chair, rouses. "You talk about data-sharing? I've been rather busy these past 48 hours because people have been data-sharing on me. They're pretty quick to data-share when they have a malignant purpose!"

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF Shane Jones, the Whangarei candidate for NZ First, introduces Winston Peters to workers in the Rosvall planer mill.

Most of all, though, he has one seemingly cohesive message that he will return to at every meeting. NZ First will save the regions from the ravages of Wellington's bureaucrats and Auckland's financiers. His party will ensure there are enough jobs and houses for Kiwis by controlling the flow of 73,000 migrants arriving at the airport – remember, that's the population of Rotorua. "Face reality, you've got to cut back the numbers coming in.

"We are politicians that must take the neglect of the regions right back into the centre of NZ politics," he tells the social workers and lawyers. "It's about the regions versus Auckland. This is not them and us. It's the regions that built Auckland. If there was a tragedy in Auckland like the one that hit Christchurch, it would be the regions to the north and south that would rebuild Auckland."

ANGER YOU COULD CUT WITH A KNIFE

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF Anger drives Peters' politics. And it invigorates his supporters.

Winston Peters' message contrasts starkly with that of Jacinda Ardern. Ms Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy espouses "relentless positivity". "Let's do this!" she smiles.

Peters scowls from his billboards, filled with seeming loathing for the New Zealand that he sees driving past. "Had enough?" the billboards ask.

Anger drives Peters' politics. It invigorates his supporters.

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF Peters says the people deserve to hear just how grim the current situation is for New Zealand. It's not as chirpy as Labour's message, he concedes, but the people need to know.

If one was to argue that a vote for Labour is one for the hope of a sunnier future, then a vote for National is for a safe and reassuring status quo. A vote for NZ First is motivated by fear and fury, flailing against the gathering darkness.

At Rosvall Sawmill on a hill overlooking the road out to Whangarei Heads, they fear that darkness. At the changing of the shift, early in the afternoon, managing director Mark Hansen gathers together 34 of the workers in their orange hi-vis jackets. Finally, he tells them, we have found a party that will support the New Zealand wood processing industry against the depredations of foreign forestry companies.

The noise in this vast shed would usually be ear-splitting, as the planer mill spits the pinus radiata planks out on to blue conveyor belt that rolls them down to the grading chain. Today, the men sit curiously on the stacks of 3x1 timber, their water bottles and earmuffs beside them.

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF He's outlasted most politicians, and this week showed he could still throw National on the mat.

The Rosvall workers ask Peters about wages, about jobs, about the housing crisis. To him, the answer is simple: Cut immigration and cut foreign "control" of the economy. Jobs and houses that he sees being taken by those 73,000 new migrants and 220,000 new work permit holders can instead go to "you and your cousins". Timber that is now being sent to China can be milled in New Zealand, creating jobs, building homes.

"They say the worst thing that is happening to us is homelessness and lack of housing – and you people have the answer to that."

At present, there aren't enough houses being built for that new city of Rotorua he says is arriving every year through the international airport at Mangere. "Does what they've promised you even supply the housing for the people hopping off the plane? The answer's no. So where does that leave you and your cousins?"

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF At the change of the shift at Rosvall Sawmill, managing director Mark Hansen gathers together 34 of the workers in their orange hi-vis jackets. Finally, he tells them, we have found a party that will support the New Zealand wood processing industry. Pictured, Shane Jones talks to the workers.

His grim message is very different to that of Ardern.

"Well, I'm not criticising her," he explains to me afterwards. "But when you see the calamity that this country could face, I think you owe the public a realistic view based on your experience. My view is based on people who do know, not a PR slogan. We're in serious trouble. International commentators tell me they are seriously worried about this economy."

Might Ardern's positivity resonate better with voters than his Jeremiah-like warnings of doom?

CHRIS McKEEN / STUFF After spending most of the past 40 years in Parliament, Peters is like Karate Kid's wizened master Mr Miyagi.

"I've no doubt it does," he admits, in a rare concession. "But in the end we all have to live and look back and say to ourselves when our days in politics are over, did I do my best to tell my country the true state of affairs?"

'YOU'LL BE AS DISAPPOINTED AS I WILL BE'

At the Wellsford Community Centre, the candidates debate is wrapping up – and as always, Peters gets the last word.

He takes to his feet. "Ladies and gentlemen, everybody wants to be a positive person. Everybody believes in aspiration. Everybody believes in having a glass half full and looking forward to life with the right attitude."

You know there's a "but" coming.

"But – you would be seriously being misled if you didn't have a good hard look at reality when you heard many of the promises that are being made in this campaign. I can bet you that I'll turn up a year from now, two years from now, three years from now, and you'll be as disappointed as I will be. This is a vote for reality."

Peters has the support of most of this elderly audience; his message is grim but the applause is warm.

Out in the lobby there are cups of tea, badly burnt sausage rolls and ripped-open bags of chippies on offer. After shaking a few hands, the Northland MP heads out to join Trotman in the darkened BMW in the carpark, for the drive back to the privacy of their Auckland home.

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