The beauty of indifference

If this column seems a bit different, it is because I am writing it in New Zealand, which is pretty far away from Australia so I may be harder to hear than usual. It may also be a bit slower than usual – and before you jump to any conclusions, I am not about to start this column with hackneyed jokes about Kiwis being slow; that comes later.

No, it is slower because I am much more relaxed; partly because New Zealand is so beautiful, partly because our dollar goes further but mostly because I have not had to hear or read anything about our federal election.

You see, New Zealanders have a passionate, finely developed and deeply held sense of complete and utter indifference to our politics. Some of them know we are having an election, none of them care and even though they make no effort to justify their position it is hard not to think that they may have a point.

It helps that internet coverage is basically non-existent over here, partly because technology is in its infancy and the speed of electricity in New Zealand is about 15km/h, so phones are of no use at all (Ha ha! No offence, my Kiwi friends, I know there aren’t any phones here!).

So I haven’t had to listen to ‘Albo’ and Peter Dutton suddenly remember that they have always intended to give pockets of money to pretty much every Australian, living or dead, while simultaneously forgetting exactly how they will pay for it.

Incidentally, why is it that our Prime Minister gets the affable, blokey, ‘Albo’ and Peter Dutton just gets ‘Dutton’? Apart from the fact that Albanese is about as blokey as a Labradoodle, we should be wary of giving political candidates ‘cool’ nicknames, because we’ve been burnt before.

Back in 2007, many media outlets were calling Kevin Rudd ‘Kevin 07’, and some radio stations called him ‘K-Rudd’ (Kevin being so ‘street’ and all) and that did not end well. So if we are going to hand out nicknames to the candidates, let’s make them appropriate: from now on it is Mr Magoo versus Voldemort.

In any event, I don’t really care, because I am relaxing in New Zealand, as I said and have mentioned again just in case you forgot, and also to rub it in. It isn’t all beer and skittles here though, because skittles is largely a European game and Kiwis haven’t heard of it (beer, they understand fully). There are some odd things here though.

For a start, Kiwis are very committed to national security, to the point that they keep many things confidential, the most obvious one being the speed limit. There are thousands of kilometres of road in New Zealand, and about four speed signs, so the speed limit is like the horizon – more of a concept than an actual thing.

What happens is, as you drive out of a built-up area everyone begins to slowly and nervously accelerate until they are all, by some sort of creeping assumption (this is known as the Andrews method, which history suggests will not end well) travelling at a speed that seems about right. Since almost all the police here are devoted to arresting locals who aren’t wearing an All Blacks jersey, it works out pretty well.

The source of the speed sign shortage is complicated and difficult to explain, since I am right this minute making it up, but here is the problem as near as I can figure. Kiwis are an adventurous and curious lot, and many are gripped, at a young age, with an unquenchable desire to explore the world, and they set off for foreign climes as soon as they can.

Sure, many of them find that desire is actually quite quenchable, mostly by discovering Bondi; then many of them start pretty much hanging out there for a living, which does actually cause quite a few problems for Sydney. However, as often happens when Sydney has a problem, I don’t care.

This exodus does, however, reduce New Zealand’s tax base significantly. Since 85 per cent of New Zealand’s GDP is devoted to ensuring that the All Blacks continue to dominate world rugby, that doesn’t leave much left over for speed signs or health care, but since most Kiwis are living in Australia and covered by Medicare, it all works out.

Plus, you have to admit, the All Blacks are a very good team, and Kiwis are justifiably proud of their dominance. After all, it is not easy to be world champs of a sport played everywhere in New Zealand and by almost 175 people across the rest of the world. Sure, more people play Quidditch, but you take what you can get.

Another area where money is saved so as to divert money to the All Blacks is bridges. New Zealand long ago realised that when people drive cars over bridges, they only drive in one direction at a time – so clearly, having two lanes is superfluous. Thus, many bridges in New Zealand have only one lane.

Yep, one lane. Crossing these bridges safely relies largely on people behaving rationally and courteously while driving; what could possibly go wrong?

Funnily enough, the bridge system works pretty well, and I think it is because how relaxed everyone is by virtue of being constantly surrounded by what is pretty much the most beautiful place on Earth. It is very hard to be aggressive or angry when you are looking at snow-capped peaks, glorious waterfalls, and majestic valleys; it is probably why Kiwis are so relaxed, friendly and forgiving (at least I hope they are, given the content of this column).

OK, so I have had a bit of fun with our Kiwi brethren here, but I doubt they will get too upset. For a start, any time a Kiwi is sick of this sort of thing, they can just mention rugby union and we Aussies suddenly remember urgent dental appointments.

Seriously though, if you haven’t been to New Zealand you should; the place is ridiculously beautiful and the people really are genuinely friendly and a lot of fun. If an alien drops in on you and says that they only enough time to visit one country on Earth, New Zealand is the one you should recommend.

Incidentally, if there are any aliens reading this, you are more than welcome to visit Earth, and there is only one condition: you have to take Donald Trump back with you when you go. Now, you might be thinking he’ll stand out, but trust us, he’ll fit right in – when you see him you’ll understand.

© Shane Budden 2025