The Facebook post, the media and the Opposition leader

Sunday, 22 March 2026

Tracy Watkins is editor of The Post and Sunday Star-times

OPINION: By the time Labour leader Chris Hipkins stepped off a plane and convened an unscheduled press conference at Parliament to address and deny claims from his ex-wife, he was already running nearly 24 hours behind public opinion.

Hours before Hipkins fronted—the night before, in fact—a friend had already texted me a screenshot of a social media post that had travelled like wildfire across Facebook and Instagram. “I used to think he was a nice guy,” she wrote. “Not anymore.”

But Hipkins wasn’t the only one trailing in the wake of the digital storm. We in the media were also grappling with how to handle the claims by Jade Paul, the mother of his two children. Paul had made numerous claims about her former husband—none criminal in nature, but clearly damaging.

The unsubstantiated claims were posted on her private Facebook page and later deleted. But by then, screenshots had migrated to public pages read by hundreds of thousands. The silence from traditional newsrooms didn't go unnoticed. Anonymous keyboard warriors and political actors were as quick to target the media as they were to target Hipkins. For some, our initial silence was held up as evidence that we were 'protecting' the Labour leader.

Paul’s post itself unintentionally inflamed that view, suggesting that powerful men “get away with terrible behaviour because women are not allowed to talk about it” and are instead labelled 'crazy.' It’s a view that would find sympathy with many women.

Meanwhile, in our newsroom—and no doubt every other in the country—we were debating how to cover a story of obvious political significance while holding true to the foundational principles of truth, fairness, and accuracy.

When contacted by our reporter, Hipkins categorically rejected the claims as untrue. That put us in a difficult position. Responsible journalism requires a paper trail: verification through texts, emails, or records. We run checks through secondary sources and put everything in front of lawyers who test every claim rigorously.

New Zealand’s defamation laws are strict; so too are the principles of the Media Council and the Broadcasting Standards Authority. Our most powerful defence is truth, but finding it takes time—a luxury the internet does not afford. The Wild West of social media is governed by none of these rules.

In this case, the line was particularly difficult to walk. Paul was not an anonymous poster; she was the Labour leader’s ex-wife.

But while the rest of New Zealand was already talking about it, the media were still attempting to substantiate the claims.

Obviously, there was a legitimate public interest, given that Hipkins could be prime minister again in six months' time. But was that interest sufficient to override the usual checks and balances?

In my view, there was also another critical issue: public confidence in the media as the Fourth Estate. When social media is swirling with allegations while the mainstream media remains silent, the vacuum is filled by political activists and conspiracy theorists claiming the media and politicians are in cahoots.

Right-wing actors were shrill about the media protecting a left-wing politician—yet those same actors would call out the media for publishing unproven claims about a politician on their own side. Left-wing actors were just as active, spreading viral claims about Paul’s former employment in a NZ First minister’s office. NZ First leader Winston Peters immediately denounced any suggestion of involvement, and joined other politicians in voicing distaste for personal matters entering the political arena.

But the digital age has fundamentally broken the rules that govern stories like this. Contrary to the belief of conspiracy theorists, those rules do not exist to protect politicians—they exist to ensure the same rigorous standards apply to everyone in the public eye. In particular, the media must always be mindful of the effect on families.

This is why politicians across the board have refused to 'climb into' the story, and why they are usually reluctant to put their families in the spotlight.

For the media, the story raises a permanent question. Perhaps our role needs to shift from being the first to break the news—to being the first to provide the context.

Or perhaps it already has.