by Tim Wilson, Maxim Institute executive director
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks . . .”
A famous line from Shakespeare’s Hamlet. It’s uttered in response to the insincere overacting of a character in a play within the play. In everyday use, the phrase indicates doubt of sincerity, especially regarding the truth of a strong denial.
Too much protesting springs to mind when reviewing China’s response to the recent revelation (by the GCSB) that state-sponsored hackers attacked the New Zealand Parliament in 2021.
The Chinese Embassy spokesperson says they “. . . reject outright such groundless and irresponsible accusations”. They also say, “We have never, nor will we in the future, interfere in the internal affairs of other countries, including New Zealand. Accusing China of foreign interference is completely barking up the wrong tree . . .”
The tone? Vivid, obviously. Not merely “groundless” but “irresponsible” accusations. Hang on. How can a groundless accusation not be irresponsible? A wrong tree is invoked and barking . . . in regards to Chinese interference in other countries.
Unfortunately, others have described that particular tree and dog well, including Canadian authorities, the Council for Foreign Relations, and the French Parliament. Some headlines:
“Canada announces public enquiry into whether China, Russia and others interfered in elections”
“China’s growing interference on domestic politics”
“China’s interference increasingly aggressive: French parliament report”
There’s the paradox. Language has meaning; extreme language often has less meaning; in fact, it can be a Geiger Counter, indicating radioactive falsity. G.K. Chesterton once said, “Propaganda is . . . believing that other people will believe whatever you can invent.”
Such misbelief isn’t merely international. Local examples abound. Let’s recall Te Pāti Māori deploying the word “genocide” to characterise the anti-smoking legislation’s repeal. As Maxim research fellow Natasha Baulis has noted, the word means many things, but not this.
Recently Winston Peters was pilloried for allegedly comparing co-governance to Nazism. He disputes a comparison was made, contending that he was pointing out the problematic nature of any race-based assertion of superiority. On reflection, the media over-crystallised, but nonetheless, it was enough to merit a scolding from his ostensible boss, Prime Minister Chris Luxon. So, the discussion became about the fallout rather than the contention. Nazi references will do that.
With trust in politicians historically low, there needs to be less protesting, less extremity, and perhaps more personal vulnerability. It’s a bit like how people talk to one another individually. I’m not arguing against rhetoric, merely that some of the notes change.
The next generation may hold the key. Many of the maiden speeches by incoming MPs from all parties were heartening, especially the one delivered by National’s James Meagher. Asserting that no political party owns Māori or the poor, he described his own childhood: “I know what it’s like to have your very first memory be of the police trying to coax you to come out from under the bed, telling you that everything would be OK.”
How different is that from the Chinese bluster we began with? Experiences rather than proclamation and truth. It’s powerful; it can hurt. It doesn’t need to protest too much.