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`I should have known better’: Wellington mayor Tory Whanau reflects on her torrid year

Sunday, 15 October 2023

Tory Whanau in the office that made her feel uneasy.
Tory Whanau in the office that made her feel uneasy.

One year ago Tory Whanau set out to change Wellington, and ended up changing herself.

Elected mayor, Whanau arrived with a surfeit of stylish, youthful enthusiasm, and an absence of local government experience. She was the change candidate, one of the few progressive mayors elected across the country.

Arriving as what she calls “normal Tory”, fond of a night on the town, she discovered that was incompatible with “Your Worship Tory”, Wellington’s No 1 citizen, tripping on her mayoral chains with each footstep.

She upset people by missing key meetings, hit headlines for neglecting to pay a restaurant bill, then her dog Teddy landed her in the dog box, breaching the council’s office tenancy agreement.

Surveying the panoramic view from the mayor’s office (retail strip Lambton Quay, Wellington Harbour, Shelly Bay in the distance), prompts the thought Whanau has had a year in a goldfish bowl.

Effervescent, laughing, smiling, the hands are all part of the Tory Whanau conversation style.
Effervescent, laughing, smiling, the hands are all part of the Tory Whanau conversation style.

She’s effervescent, laughing, smiling, waving her hands for emphasis. Yet, she hugs a pillow to her lap as if was a security blanket explaining “I like something to lean on”, and when the hardest of the last 365 days for her and Wellington are raised - the Loafers Lodge fire - the smile turns sad.

“I had to realise I'm here to serve, and I do need to behave in a certain way and that's all good. I haven't actually been out since that night… Well I've been out to dinner, but I won't really drink.”

She’s changed, she says. It took time to realise she had to.

Whanau the night ruru is now Tory, dawn-chorus gym junkie. She’d been to a Body Fit Training workout prior to our 9.30am interview. She goes about five times a week and is “becoming a bit obsessed with health and fitness”.

But it’s not only her health that needed a shake-up, it was also her mind. Social butterfly to mayor who had to be always “on” in public was a difficult transition.

Moving from campaigning to lead a city beset with busted pipes, crawling traffic and struggling retailers was also hard. In her glitzy office imposter syndrome loomed, with support staff calling her “your worship” taking time to get used to.

“I'm like, ‘CALL ME TORY’. It was a bit of a shock to the system. And I'd have to keep saying, ‘no, no, don't do that, don't do that,’ and they'll be like, ‘your worship’ we have to.’”

Health and fitness are a new obsession, says Tory Whanau.
Health and fitness are a new obsession, says Tory Whanau.

‘Normal’ Tory has been largely shelved, says the former Green Party chief of staff.

She no longer drinks at public events, such as The Post Finance Debate on Monday.

“I should have known better, I'd managed MPs in the past and I knew the level of scrutiny that they were under,” she says.

“I haven't been in a public position until now, so it's almost like I was struggling to let my private life go. I was learning how to be mayor, learning how to be a leader, learning the dynamics of council all at the same time.

“So look, I had a couple of moments but after a year, I finally feel like I've settled in really well. This feels comfortable now. It was an adjustment and lots of lessons were learned. Well, not lots, a couple of lessons were learned.

“But I've got the gist of it now. I've had to try and figure out that balance between being a public figure and being normal Tory… Being out there being warm, listening, while respecting the office of the mayor, I believe I've found that balance.

Tory Whanau at Loafers Lodge, where a fire took several lives.
Tory Whanau at Loafers Lodge, where a fire took several lives.

“I have to get that balance right. Because I want the public to trust me and know that I have their backs. So it's about me communicating enough about what I'm doing, but just leaving things a bit private.”

Certainly her tearful presence at the fatal Loafers Lodge fire, showed that warmth. And in her darkest times post the restaurant incident - when she left without paying - she found many sympathetic, calling it an “outpouring of love”.

A TikTok of her hugging new citizens is nearing 500,000 views. To spice the ceremony up, Whanau offered hugs as she and the newbies posed for photos “and it was just laughter the whole time”.

“That indicates to me, people want love, kindness, empathy and that's the type of leadership that I'm committed to. Bills are one thing, rates are one thing. Absolutely, we need to be visionary, but actually people need an auntie. I'm the Wellington auntie.”

But rates went up 12.3% when she had vowed to hold them down. Ambitious plans have been met with resistance, with residents and businesses ready to organise and litigate over changes.

Water pipes are still bursting, the Shelly Bay housing development folded, central city retailers hate losing their carparks, and objections to three cycleways have wound up in court the past two years.

Wellington mayor Tory Whanau meets a woman in Courtenay Place.
Wellington mayor Tory Whanau meets a woman in Courtenay Place.

It’s a tricky balancing act. Rates money pays for services, and services need fixing. Central city retailers are struggling, so something has to be done, but the mayor has only the vision for what needs to be done, rather than the ability or power to do it.

“I get that [retailers losing carparks is] really frustrating, but it'll contribute to a really effective way of transport across Courtenay Place, and let's be real, Courtenay Place needs change.

“Those who are against change do keep saying, ‘the city is dying, vote against the Golden Mile’. And I'm like, so the city is dying, and you want to do nothing about that? We cannot do that.”

Life in a goldfish bowl, having to be always aware you’re mayor, unwanted news headlines, and the standard opposition politicians face, all sounds a tough gig.

But Whanau knows good fortune is not all it’s cracked up to be either: she scooped a $1.39 million Lotto win aged 20, an experience she has said made her “miserable”.

Asked to compare Lotto and becoming mayor as life-changing events, she sits on the fence.

“Oh, that's a great question. I actually think it's the same… These are two situations that are completely out of scope for someone like me, who grew up in Cannons Creek… Winning Lotto, becoming mayor,” she says.

“Those are wild, wild, things that even to have one of those happen to one person, it's kind of crazy. So I would find them to be quite similar experiences, but I've probably learned a lot quicker with this, when I won Lotto I was just young, and you know … “