The rise (and rise) of Wellington Mayor Tory Whanau

Monday, 29 May 2023

The tragic Loafers Lodge hostel fire thrust Tory Whanau into the national spotlight, winning praise for her empathetic leadership. Who is Wellington’s mayor? Andrea Vance reports.

She told her friends at a party. It was one of those conversations typical of the capital’s elite social scene: gossipy, political and full of the latest power plays. Under discussion was the next election - in Wellington, it’s always the next election.

The following year would bring the local council elections. Dreary but necessary, central government always watches these races closely, especially in the biggest cities. But no one gets terribly excited about it.

“I’m going to run,” Tory Whanau told her circle. Everyone laughed. “I’m going to run,” she repeated, with a little more force. “And I’m going to win.”

No-one took her that seriously. The groupthink of the time was that Paul Eagle was going to be Wellington’s next mayor. A former deputy, now Labour MP for the Rongotai electorate in the city’s south east, he was the obvious candidate to lead the left-leaning city.

What business had Whanau, a backroom operative who’d forged her political career in the shadows, challenging an establishment politician with the backing of Jacinda Ardern’s party and a long history in local government?

Wellington, it appeared, was in the doldrums. Not that its residents would admit to it, but John Key may well have been right when he remarked almost a decade earlier, that the city was dying.

Competing demands made the jigsaw of housing intensification insoluble. Addressing the climate emergency was hindered by dysfunctional public transport. Water and sewer pipes were rotting underneath the city.

The place had also lost something of its creative soul. Auckland was bigger and better; Christchurch filled with sparkly new infrastructure and endless possibilities; even Hamilton had more vim. Wellington was stuck in its early 2000s heyday, only traces of faded movie magic evident under the grime, and crime.

The sassy Absolutely Positively Wellington banner felt like a cruel joke to property owners saddled with ever-climbing rates bills, and a council that was paralysed by factionalism and bitterness.

Who would want the job of leading a stagnating city?

Whanau was first out of the blocks, announcing her candidacy in November 2021, almost a full year before voters went to the polls. For a long time, she stood on the field alone.

It was several months, filled with rumour and speculation, before Eagle formally announced his campaign. Incumbent Andy Foster followed a few weeks later.

Whanau pitched herself as a bridge-builder, leaning into her skills as the Green party chief of staff where she had to manage a tricky relationship with NZ First, the other minority party in the coalition government. She was an independent, but endorsed by the Greens.

There was a seminal moment in the campaign, during a live Stuff debate. As Foster and Eagle sniped and bickered over the controversial Shelly Bay housing development, Whanau sat serenely to the side, then urged them to keep calm.

At candidate events, Whanau seemed to have the edge, drawing larger crowds and a more sympathetic hearing.

Her campaign exuded glamour: a signature slick of red lipstick and beautifully cut clothes contrasted with her male rivals’ grey suits, and tired ideas.

“People were very grumpy at the council. Wellington was kind of f….., down in the dumps and there was a real negativity about the place,” a political campaign veteran reflects.

“She said: I'm an outsider from the council, never worked in council. I'm going to be a breath of fresh air and make Wellington fun and cool and positive again.”

With her social media savvy, Whanau was resonating with younger voters. “Everyone assumed it was locked up for Eagle,” another political insider says. “But long before anyone else correctly diagnosed it, she knew that she was the right candidate, at the right time.”

With less than a month to go, public polls were picking a close race - but with Eagle still out in front.

In the end, he came fourth. It was a complete upset.

Whanau won more votes than Foster and Eagle together. On polling day, she welcomed reporters into her home, where supporters including a jubilant Green MP Golriz Ghahraman, were celebrating with glasses of champagne.

“This is the best day of my life,” she said on confirming the result, and then calling her mum, Jenny.

Who is Tory?

Whanau grew up poor. Raised in state housing in the Porirua suburb Cannons Creek, her family struggled to get by on low wages and food vouchers.

When she was eight, they moved to Patea, in Taranaki, where life was more affordable, and her father Raymond went to work in Australia’s mines.

Occasionally, she’d accompany her grandfather, Māori activist and actor Rongo Tupatea Kahukuranui, on protests in front of Parliament.

After high school, she returned to Wellington to study, working two jobs before a lottery win at 20 changed her life. The $19m Powerball prize was shared among 13 winners – and she got a $1.39m share. She took a year off to travel and paid off Jenny’s mortgage. Later, she was able to tip $40,000 into her mayoralty campaign.

”I think that she was profoundly affected by growing up poor and with a sense of the injustice of the world,” a former colleague says. “Then that lotto win also affected her. It liberated from her own personal circumstances, but also reinforced [the idea] that she got lucky, where nobody else in her family or community did, and people shouldn’t have to be lucky.”

Whanau finished her film and media studies degree (a huge horror movie buff, she wrote her thesis on zombies. She does not rate vampires). A post grad diploma in business followed, and she moved into the financial world, working for an insurance company, before she was taken on by the Greens in 2015.

By 2017 she was the party’s digital director, preparing for that year’s general election. Then co-leader Metiria Turei dropped a bombshell, admitting to benefit fraud as a young single mother, and fracturing the party.

In the fallout, key political staffers stepped down. Reeling, remaining co-leader James Shaw appointed Whanau his acting chief of staff.

“It was the day after Met resigned, there was about 11 weeks to go, and it was a shit show,” the former colleague says. “She did a terrific job in horrendous circumstances. After the election, it was an easy decision to make her permanent.”

Whanau was in the team (largely as an observer) that nutted out a post-election confidence and supply deal with Labour.

As the Government settled in, her duties were dominated by managing the frequently tense relationship with NZ First.

“She was the peacemaker, and when [Shaw and NZ First chief of staff Jon Johansson] were prepared to go to war with each other, she basically held the government together,” the colleague says.

“You had these colossal male egos, and she would let the boys swing their dicks around and then go: ‘right, what do we do?”

An MP says: “I wasn’t one of her in-crowd, but she was very good with people – and she had to deal with a lot of unpleasant people. NZ First was a nightmare. She left those meetings feeling like she needed a shower.”

Whanau saw another election through, and then quit in July 2021 – about the expected length of time in such a frenetic parliamentary job. She accepted a contract with Capital, a well-connected lobbying firm packed with former Beehive staffers.

Her parting gift was a framed mock-up of a film poster, featuring her as the star. Blood-spattered, in a pencil skirt and stilettos, she wielded an axe. “Watch out for her sting,” was the tagline.

So far, there is less a sting, more a pinch, in her mayoralty. Despite promising she would “do all that I can” to avoid a rates rise, homeowners will see an average 12.3% increase (on top of a Greater Wellington Regional Council rates hike, costing the average residential payer an extra $100 per year).

And there is worse to come: an additional $75-$105 annual levy to pay for a new sewage sludge plant.

Most of these costs are for programmes already on the books (replacing the central library or flash new convention centre). Whanau’s transformation plans are pending – she says denizens will see them take shape in next year’s Long Term Plan (the council’s budget for the coming decade).

Meanwhile, the axe is hanging over light rail – her preferred option for new public transport – but local government still has to pay a 40% share of the troubled $7bn Lets Get Wellington Moving project.

There is also uncertainty around central government’s Three Waters reforms, and an expected two-year delay will push further costs to residents, already frustrated with leaks, burst pipes and pollution.

Whanau says: “I outlined what I want for the city, which includes all of that expensive stuff. And then I got overwhelming votes…So we hear a lot from ratepayers, but I'm not hearing the people standing up for renters who want all that transformational stuff. And if we don’t invest now…our city will crumble.”

She has delivered on a promise to unite council – public spats are largely a thing of the past. But almost eight months into the job, she needs to start putting some wins on the board.

“She doesn’t have the experience, so she’s had to learn on the job,” the campaign veteran says. “She’s done well: the Loafers Lodge fire is a good example of how she leads from the front.”

Whanau was on the scene of the deadly blaze before dawn, giving updates in emotional media interviews. She established a relief fund, and ordered officials to find similar buildings and establish what’s needed to make them safe.

There were mistakes: she wrongly told reporters the fire wasn’t suspicious. A man was later charged with arson. And the jury is still out on the council’s culpability – it has emerged multiple concerns were raised about the 92-unit hostel, which had recently passed an inspection.

“She’s getting there,” the campaigner adds. “But her challenge will be the same as the previous mayor's: how to actually get the council to do anything; and how to show that you're actually on the side of the public and not a defender of council failure.”

The honeymoon has soured somewhat though. One frequent complaint is her absence at civic functions – including monthly citizenship ceremonies, in which the mayor welcomes new residents.

Last weekend, she pulled out of a Government House ceremony for young Duke of Edinburgh award winners, too late to have the council represented.

On the same day, dignitaries were embarrassed when she was missing from a commemoration of the 1941 Battle of Crete – important in Wellington’s relationship with Greek sister city Hania.

Councillors complain she either doesn’t turn up to public meetings, or stays just a short time.

“If I'm not attending something, it's because I’m at something else,” she says. “I've told my team to prioritise what I'm going to because I've got to focus on what I've come here to do. It's about 60 hours a week of meetings and events, and I just can't fit it in.”

But she’s also skipping important duties. Earlier this month other regional leaders were left furious when she was a no-show at a mayoral forum in Carterton. These were crunch talks on water reform – and with mayors split on the thorny issue fellow progressive politicians felt let down.

Whanau claimed the death of a man at the council-owned Newtown Park Apartments meant she needed to remain in the city to update media. It was viewed as a flimsy excuse – reporters would be unlikely to ask the mayor for comment, and besides, she has a mobile phone.

“I mean, that's true,” she admits. “And I have apologised because in hindsight, I should have gone.”

Her recent decision to withdraw from the Wellington Water Committee – which oversees decisions about the regional water services provider – was also met with dismay. Other mayors are members, but Whanau has subbed in Tim Brown, who worked for infrastructure investment company Infratil.

“He is so across detail and so excellent at that sort of stuff, whereas I'm just much better at a high level,” she explains.

For all these storm clouds, Whanau is firmly a darling of the media – regularly contrasted with Auckland’s abrasive right-wing mayor Wayne Brown – and the left-wing elite. Helen Clark is said to be mentoring her – although Whanau won’t confirm this.

Her glitzy 40 birthday party earlier this year drew a who’s who of progressive politics, sipping French 75s into the wee small hours in the lounge of the Naumi hotel.

But, in the same way Finland’s Sanna Marin was diminished for having a social life, Whanau is tarred with a ‘party-loving’ image.

“She likes to have fun” the insider says. “But the initial view of younger women in positions of power is that they’re not up to it, they’re flaky. So I'm dismissive of those [criticisms]. Judge her the same way you would [former mayors] Justin Lester or Andy Foster.”

Whanau doesn’t care. “I mean, I do love a night out. I love my red wine. And I make no apologies for that. That doesn't mean I can't do my job.”

The former colleague believes it's a virtue. “She’s a self-confessed diva. She has glam, showy side and mayor is the chief cheerleader for a city, the ambassador. I knew she’d do that very well.”

But residents can expect to see a more serious side to her. The inferno that took the lives of at least six people has made her more reflective, and determined to refocus on housing and making life better for Wellington’s most vulnerable.

”I’m tired, and I’m sad,” she says. “Last week was challenging but at the same time, it was such an honour to provide comfort to the community. It has made me realise: ‘This is why you're here. Because this is the stuff that you care about.’

She admits that she had a lot to learn, quickly – and the mayoral workload was heavier than she imagined. “Because I was being overwhelmed, I was worried that I was losing my political voice. I didn't realise the impact of being a public figure, what it would have on me.

“I needed to recharge and hide away because every time I'd walk everywhere, people were smiling at me and it's so lovely, but it is overwhelming.

“But, in the last week, I've been able to feel more confident as a leader, and I’m remembering why I was voted in.”