Photo Essay: Next Speaker please

A Parliament without a Speaker is a motley collection of MPs without direction. 

The former speaker, Trevor Mallard made his resignation formal on August 24th, after a year or more of stepping slowly back from the role and preparing the way for his understudy.

Now, with no Speaker, the House begins a sitting day with just one job – electing a successor.   

When there is no Speaker, the person who chairs the MPs while they elect a new boss is the Clerk of the House of Representatives, David Wilson (who is unusual in Parliament – the Speaker is not the clerks' boss). For such a formal occasion a full complement of bewigged clerks arrive at the Table. David Wilson is accompanied here by James Picker and David Bagnall.

Adrian Rurawhe is nominated and unanimously elected. His nominators (Labour whips Barbara Edmonds and Duncan Webb) arrive at his seat to ‘accompany’ him to the front as his colleagues across the House stand and applaud. On the way he stops to shake hands with Speaker’s Assistant Roland Todd (who has served six previous speakers).

New Speakers-elect don’t immediately ascend to the Chair. They first stop and speak from the floor of the chamber. Adrian Rurawhe has been adorned by Labour’s whips in a prestigious mantle: a kahu huruhuru. 

His speech shows both sides of his “gentle giant” descriptor, both laughing with the MPs, as well as assuring them of his determination to ensure Parliament fully carries out its crucial function of holding government to account.

Adrian Rurawhe is from Ngāti Apa, which has a rohe stretching between the Whanganui and Manawatu Rivers. His whanau are in the House in force for his nomination. They respond to his election in impressive voice led by Chelsea Manuel on guitar.

Apologies to the dozens of other iwi who have visited the House, but Ngāti Apa are the best I have heard. By some margin.

Parliament’s MPs electing a Speaker is only half the journey. In practice, MPs have nominated someone, but they still require confirmation.

So, having been chosen, Adrian Rurawhe must now head across town to Government House to present himself to the other person who is a member of Parliament - the Governor General.

A Speaker isn’t just the head of the legislature, they are the person who speaks to the sovereign on behalf of the House of Representatives: hence the name. They speak for the House.

As the go-between it’s reasonable that both parts of the Parliament (House and Sovereign) approve of the choice. Until that agreement is reached Adrian Rurawhe is officially the ‘Speaker-elect’.

Adrian Rurawhe will head to Government House with his core team in three shiny crown cars, but he will not be without wider support. His whanau are also heading there on two buses, and a third bus has been provided for MPs that want to watch.

A few minutes prior to the Speaker-elect’s departure, a bus carrying MPs heads away across the forecourt, and from it Labour’s Chief Whip MP Duncan Webb watches a group of chamber attendants lining up on the House steps to flank the official party’s procession.     

At Government House, once the guests are all settled in and ready for the Confirmation ceremony, three Crown cars pull up outside, carrying the Speaker-elect’s party. 

They are led by the Speaker’s ceremonial ‘heavy’ – the Serjeant-at-Arms carrying the gilded mace. The mace is the official symbol of the Speaker’s authority, while its carrier, the Serjeant-at-arms is the Speaker’s enforcer.  

At a metre and a half long and weighing 8.2 kilos with a big knobbly end, the mace would make a pretty effective bludgeon in less ceremonial circumstances.

The Serjeant-at-arms’ role is like a medieval equivalent of the modern Diplomatic Protection Squad, the Police who act as security for the Prime Minister and others.

Speaker-elect Adrian Rurawhe waits on the threshold of Government House for a summons from the Queen’s local representative, Cindy Kiro.

Traditionally, speakers have been reluctant to take on a job that is usually both difficult and unpopular, and historically sometimes even dangerous. So, you may wonder just what is going through Adrian Rurewhe’s mind as he waits like a bride in the vestibule of a chapel.

In Government House’s chandelier-lit ballroom the Speaker-elect and his party form up opposite the Governor General and her party. 

Watching from the side I swear I can hear a faint refrain from West Side Story. “Here come the Jets! Little world, step aside…”  

There is a to-and-fro of prepared statements from Adrian Rurawhe (called addresses when talking to the sovereign or their stand-in)…

…and prepared responses from the Governor General, Dr Cindy Kiro. After the verbal tennis of address and reply she hands him an official letter confirming his selection. It’s something he can take back and show the House.

With the formalities over, the Governor General congratulates her new Speaker.

And then the Prime Minister gets a crack as well.

It’s not all Labour though, representing the National Party is Michael Woodhouse (Deputy Shadow Leader of the House). The Greens have sent both their co-leaders and ACT have sent Toni Severin. 

After some final pomp the National Anthem is in the bag and Cindy Kiro says ‘all right, time for photos.’

The MPs need no second invitation. 

For the next half hour or so the new Speaker gets to know how Cindy Crawford felt, with an ever changing cast of subjects joining him for official and less official portraits.

Here a group of Labour colleagues cluster for a selfy taken by Nanaia Mahuta (and a shot by Jenny Salesa). On the left Willie Jackson rushes to join the frame.  

And leaving the frame, senior whanau members.  From left Rose Ratana, Piriwiritua Rurawhe, and Jamie Nepia.

Ratana is a family name. among Adrian's grandparents were former MPs Matiu Ratana (who was also President of the Ratana church), and his wife Iriaka who succeeded him as MP for Western Maori (the first female Maori MP) and served in parliament for 26 years. T.W. Ratana (founder of he Ratana faith) was a great-grandfather.

Eventually though, the rush subsides and everyone stops for a cuppa. Of one kind or another.