It has been slightly more than a week since Andrea Vance’s riveting real-life read Blue Blood:  The Inside Story of the National Party in Crisis was released.  Before reviewing, I wanted to see what reaction it would spark; in the past, books like, for example, Nicky Hager’s Dirty Politics have reverberated far beyond the political commentators and media that thrive on the types of admissions that centre both books.

Dirty Politics, with its exposé of – to use the full title - How attack politics is poisoning New Zealand’s political environment, was covered in detail by every major media outlet.  Its sales figures surprised even experienced publishing industry veterans while people who weren’t necessarily overly interested in politics talked about it. It still gets discussed today and its disclosures, particularly around Judith Collins’ friendship with the blogger Cameron Slater, surely had an impact on the 2020 election.

It is concerning that there hasn’t been as much reaction to Vance’s book which contains information equally as disturbing as Hager’s book(s) because this stuff matters. Especially given the times we’re in. Yes, she’s been interviewed in various media and extracts from Blue Blood have appeared but it’s nothing like the brouhaha that surrounded Dirty Politics or even Hager’s 2006 The Hollow Men about National’s campaign strategies during the 2005 general election.

Maybe it’s because Vance is a Stuff journalist which limits what coverage opposition media will give to it; maybe it’s because we’re not one month out from a general election as New Zealand was in 2014 when Dirty Politics was released. Or maybe it’s because we’re simply so tired after the tumultuous events of the last two years – and all the ensuing trouble in the world – that we just haven’t got the energy to be as shocked or disquieted as we should be. 

It is deeply unsettling to read what Vance has pulled together from sources, which include interviews with past and current MPs, key advisors and staffers – many anonymous but a number on the record – campaign emails, internal party communications and her own insights from years spent in the Parliamentary Press Gallery. Those internal party communications include the ‘top secret’ review of National’s crushing 2020 defeat, which allowed the Labour Party to govern without a coalition partner.

Starting with the shock resignation of John Key in 2016, subsequent events provide Vance with a natural structure to her book:  the underlying resentment when Key anointed Bill English his successor; the failure of the party under English to secure a coalition arrangement with Winston Peters’ and NZ First after the 2017 election; Simon Bridges’ tenure in the top job and the whole “Jami-Lee Ross saga” which signalled the beginning of Bridges’ end; Todd Muller’s disastrous 53 days at the helm (what was he thinking when he took a crack at the leadership role?!);  Judith Collins’ divisive reign and ruinous 2020 election campaign; Christopher Luxon’s parachuting into the position of party leader when he is, in fact, one of our most inexperienced politicians.

It’s all there, divided into chapters with titles like Knives Out, Train Wreck and Crushed which flow seamlessly to the next jaw-dropping, head-shaking revelations. The bulk of Blue Blood is the spiralling of the various crises, replete with characters like Jami-Lee Ross who appear almost like villains straight out of central casting.  That said, Ross was far from the only ‘rogue political actor’ in the party and the accusations, the finger pointing, comes thick and fast.

There are so many “zingers” contained in the pages of this book, that the Listener, in its coverage of Blue Blood, has a column titled With colleagues like these, who needs enemies? detailing some of the “horrible” things National MPs and insiders say about each other. It’s a mistake to think Blue Blood contains nothing new because these ructions were thoroughly reported at the time. Turns out, what we saw was the tip of an ominously large iceberg that had been forming for years.

Vance moves toward a conclusion with a look back to 2005 and the deals worked out between National and ACT, the ramifications of which continue today.  She then considers what Luxon can do for National which, despite the expectations of him by his party, might well be more limited than many hope for.  An anonymous former colleague told Vance that Luxon suffers from, “‘it’s so bloody easy disease,’ with a naivety about the realities of governing” and that his political analysis seems "shallow." (As I finish this, Luxon is again in the headlines for what seems like another ‘gaffe.’  This time, his social media suggested he was in Te Puke when he was, in fact, holidaying in Hawaii.)

As she neared finishing the book, Vance could not go ahead with some interviews after Luxon banned MPs from talking to her. Perhaps because of this, there is, as other reviewers have observed, a lot about the what happened but not as in-depth a look at the why. Why, for example, did someone like Todd Muller who once wanted to be president of the United States but then, more realistically, set his sights on being our Prime Minister not have a plan?  Or, as one nameless MP said of Judith Collins’ leadership ambitions: “Judith crawled over broken glass for a decade to get this job; she isn’t some Joan of Arc figure.  Sadly, when she got there, there was nothing.  She didn’t even have an A4 of a plan.”

This is a mainstream party that has dominated our political scene for decades – so much so that it regards itself as our “natural party of government.”  What Vance shows is that at the time of the 2020 election – so crucial in terms of the aforementioned troubles in the world - the people in charge of the National Party could barely run a bath let alone a country.  We should all be worried because we need our politicians to be far better than this.

Reviewed by Dionne Christian