CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: A Political Threat
The House was in session.
James Connor shifted in his seat. Clarkson sat across from him. Connor fixed his eyes on Clarkson, but neither one spoke. Around them, the Clean Green Party and the Maori Party were debating the finer points of the Global Warming Land Protection Bill.
Clarkson went to rise, and Connor briskly shook his head.
No! He mouthed – but Clarkson was already on his feet.
“The Right Honourable Patrick Clarkson.”
“Mr Speaker,” he began, “I urgently request the debate regarding the Global Warming Land Protection Bill be postponed, in favour of debate regarding Parliamentary action in response to a current crisis in New Zealand.”
The Speaker hesitated, and Connor shot to his feet.
“Point of order,” he said. “There is no crisis. I ask that the Right Honourable Patrick Clarkson kindly sit down, and let the House debate the issue at hand.”
Now the Speaker looked at Connor, and then at Clarkson.
“Right Honourable Clarkson,” he said, “please state the nature of the current crisis.”
“Mr Speaker,” Clarkson said, glancing at Connor, “I ask that I be allowed to present evidence directly to the House, to allow the representatives to decide for themselves whether they perceive a crisis of sufficient enough severity to warrant immediate debate.”
“Very well,” the Speaker said, “present your evidence.”
Shit! Connor thought, sitting heavily down. Don’t do this, Pat – you’ll force my hand!
Clarkson now pulled into the central area of the House a TV, with a memory card attached.
“I present a recent high profile parade down Queen Street in Auckland.”
And he pulled out a remote control.
Joshua Davidson was now on the screen, on the float, waving. In front of him, a Maori activist was shouting out in Maori, and a Maori group behind were praying and singing. A huge crowd had lined the streets, waving to Joshua, and now the Maori leader was calling out in English:
“Joshua is our King! Descended from King Henry VII, and from Potatau Te Wherowhero of Tainui! He is the King of Aotearoa – the King of New Zealand! All follow the King!”
The image froze, on a close-up of Joshua’s face – the quiet smile.
The House was silent. Connor’s eyes drifted shut, for a moment. The Speaker was silent. Connor looked at him – the Speaker seemed lost for words. Then, finally, he spoke.
“The debate for the Global Warming Land Protection Bill is postponed. Now follows general debate regarding the promotion of a new king, Joshua Davidson.”
Connor grimaced, and looked across to Clarkson.
Well? He thought. Begin.
Clarkson rose to his feet.
“Mr Speaker,” he said, “the Communications Security Bureau brought to our attention the imminent parade in Auckland, and so I attended the parade myself. What I saw astounded me as a New Zealander.”
“Explain, Right Honourable Clarkson,” the Speaker said.
“A ticker tape parade for a king, Mr Speaker,” Clarkson said. “Last I checked we already had a monarch: is one not enough?”
There was muttering in the House – and Connor shot to his feet.
“Mr Speaker.”
“Right Honourable James Connor.”
“There’s no accounting for what Aucklanders will get up to sometimes, Mr Speaker,” he said. “It is a different world up there, next to the rest of New Zealand. I say, allow them their delirium. It will quickly settle, in light of reality.”
Clarkson’s eyes were on him. “Mr Speaker,” he said, “the security of New Zealand is at stake here.”
“New Zealand is secure, Mr Speaker,” Connor quickly replied.
“A self-proclaiming king…”
“He is not self-proclaiming. Someone else was proclaiming it for him.”
“He proclaimed it to me.”
Now he had the full attention of the House.
“‘A time is coming when everything will be turned over,’ he said. ‘Not the power of the people,’ he said, ‘but the power of God over the people.’”
Clarkson fixed his eyes on the Speaker. “A theocracy, Mr Speaker,” he said. “Joshua Davidson wants to set up a theocracy.”
Muttering increased, now, in the House. A Christian Conservative Party Member, Stephen Gates, rose.
“Mr Speaker,” he said, “do we not already exist as a theocracy? Our national anthem states ‘God defend New Zealand.’ You, Mr Speaker, open our sessions with prayer to God. The Queen is the head of the State and of the Church of England…”
“The Queen’s role is only as a figurehead,” Tracy Harrison said, from the Clean Green Party. “We function as a democracy, pure and simple.”
The Maori MP rose, Rawiri Heka. “The Treaty of Waitangi is an agreement between Maori and the British Throne.”
“The Treaty would be obsolete, if we became a republic,” Harrison said.
“We are not a republic,” the Speaker said, “we are a constitutional monarchy. The Queen has authority, but stands back to oversee the democratic process.”
“Much like God,” said Gates of the Christian Conservative Party.
Clarkson’s eyes were on Connor again.
“‘The power of God over the people,’” he repeated. “This Joshua is a religious extremist.”
“Let him dream,” Connor said, “even if the dreams should be extreme.”
“We can’t let this movement continue to grow!” Clarkson said. “What might happen, if he begins to gain a substantial minority?”
“He already has a substantial minority,” Gates commented.
“True enough!” Clarkson said. “And, Heaven forbid, what if he moves across New Zealand? What if he gains a majority? Our entire constitution would be on its head.”
“Order,” the Speaker said.
Connor stared down at his desk. On the shelf below, half hidden amongst his papers, was a small photo of Rachel. He had seen her on the news – sitting at the bottom of the float, with Joshua above. She had not informed him of the parade – he had been informed by others. Why had she joined in? Was she deliberately challenging his authority? Not as a father, but as the Prime Minister of New Zealand?
Connor knew this must not be the case. He knew there must be some other meaning to all this: some other reason that had captivated her so thoroughly. And yet, she had not called: she had not explained. And he remained the Prime Minister.
“Mr Speaker,” Clarkson said, “I ask the Right Honourable Prime Minister: has he received any international response to our national developments with Joshua Davidson?”
Connor swallowed. That very morning! That very morning, the calls had come in.
He rose to his feet. “Yes, Mr Speaker,” he said, “I have received multiple warnings from our allies overseas.”
“Warnings?” the Speaker said.
“They are not comfortable with Joshua Davidson’s claims. They are also uncomfortable with our growing political instability. We are a test case – potentially the first country to have democracy fold, in the current international climate.
“We are being watched…and not only by our allies.”
“What do you mean?” Clarkson genuinely asked, and Connor looked at him.
“There are those with increasing power, internationally, who function outside the current political constraints. If we should fall, they will act. We will have no defence.”
Clarkson was silent, now. Connor looked over the House – from the Speaker, on his left, across the Opposition, in front of him, to the Clean Green Party, forward right, to the Christian Conservative Party, to his right, and then to his own MPs. He took a deep breath. Then, with trembling hands, he set forward a paper.
“Mr Speaker,” he said, “in light of this crisis, I move that a new bill, the Death Sentence Bill, be now read for the first time…”
Suddenly the House was filled with nois
e: voices raised loud.
Clarkson was immediately back on his feet. “Jim!” he cried out. “This is over the top!”
“Our national security is at stake!” Connor said, clenching his fists under his desk. “Where did you think this would lead, Patrick?”
“We should arrest the man!” Clarkson said. “Arrest him! Put him away!”
“It won’t be enough!” Connor said. “Activists can have more influence in jail than free!”
“He’s not a political activist!” Stephen Gates said, the Christian Party MP. “He’s more like a minister…”
“Ministers don’t generally have ticker tape parades for themselves,” Tracy Harrison said.
“Point of Order, Mr Speaker!” Connor tried desperately. “I am not asking for a bill for Joshua Davidson’s death: only a general bill allowing for the Death Sentence in New Zealand. He would undergo a trial, if the police deemed it necessary…”
“The police won’t touch him,” an Opposition MP said. “They’re too frightened of the crowd’s response.”
“Jim!” Clarkson’s boring gaze was on him. “You can’t do this! This isn’t what New Zealand is – this isn’t who we are anymore! We’re avoiding the Death Sentence with good reason!”
Connor swayed slightly, on his feet. Sweat began to drip down his brow. The Death Sentence? What was he doing? He didn’t want this! Yet the threat! The danger of standing back and doing nothing…it was a danger he could not accept.
But what if…what if Rachel got caught up in it all?
“Mr Speaker,” he said quietly, “I commend this bill to the House and to the Law and Order Select Committee.”
The Speaker stood, his face a rigid mask. “The question is that the motion be agreed to. Those who of that opinion say Aye…” Connor’s faithful MPs supported him with a firm response of ‘Aye’.
“…Contrary, No.” Now a loud barrage of ‘No’ filled the House.
“The Noes have it,” The Speaker said. “The Death Sentence Bill has failed to pass the first vote.” He looked relieved.
Connor thumped his folder of papers onto his desk. He had failed, and so easily! Even with his own party’s support! He would have to try again, and keep trying. Parliament must choose to allow the Death Sentence in: there must be due process. Democracy must stand.
If not, they all would be lost.