In the early days of Aotearoa New Zealand’s parliament there were two chambers but these days we have just the one where MPs duke it out. Jake Metzger finds out what this upper chamber was and who the 'Suicide Squad' was that caused its demise.
We didn’t have Lords, but we had a squad. We had… the ‘Suicide Squad’. Granted, they may not have been blockbuster movie-famous, but they pulled a blockbuster constitutional move.
You don’t have to be a geek to know that New Zealand has only one legislative chamber the House of Representatives.
But for about a century we had two.
If you saunter through Parliament House you’ll stumble into a grand old room lined with wooden paneling, replete with marble pillars and plush red carpet. It’s proper posh. It was the home of the Legislative Council, our House of Lords.
The Council was born in the 1850s.
“It was Britain that gave New Zealand the Legislative Council when Parliament was first created,” explains Parliament’s former parliamentary historian, John Martin.
Its role was to check and balance the lower House. They reviewed, approved and produced legislation. Really, they were there to save us from ourselves if the House ever passed a ludicrous bill.
Members served in seven-year stints, but before the 1890s they were there for life.
“That meant you had a body of pretty experienced lawmakers, but also a body of increasingly elderly gentlemen in the chamber,”Dr Martin says.
“That’s what they got a reputation for in the latter years.”
Those limited terms meant governments could stack the Council with aging cronies who approved the House’s bills without as much as a monocle’s glance.
This meant that over time the chamber morphed - less legislating, more booze and plush furniture.
“They were an older crowd of gentlemen perhaps more interested in the perks of parliament than doing much else,” Dr Martin explains.
And, boy, did they appreciate their liquor. So much so that when Parliament conducted their triannual vote on whether alcohol should be allowed in Parliament at the height of the prohibition era, it was the Council who tipped the balance.
“By the time it was abolished it was a completely moribund institution,” Dr Martin states.
“It no longer initiated legislation. It also did very little in terms of changing the legislation that came from the lower house, and it was seen as a pack of stooges for the government.”
So in 1947 a conservative MP named Sidney Holland introduced a members’ bill determined to abolish it. Two years later he was elected National’s first Prime Minister, and it became a top priority.
“By that time the first Labour government, which had been in power since 1936, had well-stacked the Council,” says Dr Martin. Labour favoured reform instead of abolition.
That’s when our squad waltzed in, twenty-five strong. Holland moved “… by immediately stacking it with its own supporters who were known as the ‘Suicide Squad’.” Twenty-five members were appointed to the Council with the explicit job of approving its abolition.
Imagine being promoted to a cushy new role simply to fire yourself.
The Squad’s powers were strong - its votes tipped the Council in favour of dissolving it. So, in December of 1950 the Council and the Squad belted out ‘Auld Lang Syne’, closed the doors on the chamber for good and slipped into the night (tipsily, no doubt). We have had one chamber ever since.
The Council was historically viewed as elitist, which meant few mourned its disappearance.
“There was always an unease, I think, because of a strong democratic impulse in New Zealand,” Dr Martin says.
Ideas for resurrecting a second chamber bubbled up over the years. Holland was supposed to brainstorm plans for a new and improved version.
“He did give a promise that he would investigate other forms of revising or upper chambers, [but] he never really did anything about that.”
Former Prime Minister Jim Bolger floated the idea in the mid-nineties but it too, went nowhere.
People in squads are popular, famous even. Think Taylor Swift. Our squad certainly was not. The press had long stopped reporting on the Council by the time 1950 had rolled around, and as a result few people either cared about, or even knew of, its existence. It disappeared without a fuss.
That meant that twenty-five people quietly transformed the foundations of our constitution, and with a nickname. And people say politics isn’t cool.