You Turn
The Prime Minister leaned against the window frame looking from his office out over the harbour sparkling under a sunny sky. It was a lovely blue and gold day but it all looked grey to him. Far below crowds of people swarmed like currents in a human ocean, each one going about his or her business.
It was those people, he thought, who would soon vote him out of office. There was little doubt about it. The polls were irreversibly bad and commentators were waiting for him to announce the date of the election. Talk-back radio revealed the discontent – even hatred – of the country.
Of course, there had to be an election but he had delayed naming a date. It felt like signing his own death warrant. And, as if it wasn’t bad enough that the country had turned against him, the knives were out in his own party. There was an inevitability about it but it still hurt. He would go the way of so many other past leaders – leaders who were now forgotten. How many could the crowds below name? Leaders come. Leaders go. The world moves on and forgets you.
He had poured his life into this career; worked long hours to get promotions; sacrificed his health and his family and his marriage – for what? What did it amount to in the end?
The party had been swept into power by a landslide – greater even than the polls had predicted. People wanted to help and wanted to be seen with him. They grinned widely when they met him, feeling hugely honoured just to be in his presence and they hurried to do anything they could for him.
The change of government would revitalise the country. There was hope and anticipation. They had embarked on bold new ventures and everyone applauded.
That was only nine years ago – less! How could it turn around so quickly? He knew how, really. The economy had grown but so had crime. And that frightened many. The shopping mall shooting had become an iconic event for a society that wanted deeper answers. Fourteen people had been killed by a gunman. The images were re-played endlessly on television and in the newspapers and magazines and web sites and they catalysed serious discontent. Cell phone video of a giggling gunman who finally turned the gun on himself, had received millions of hits on You Tube.
The public demanded answers. Why was it his fault? He hadn’t put the gunman up to it. He didn’t know the man. Blame his parents. Blame the educations system. Blame God, but why blame the government? Those people down below hated him. Why was it his fault?
The Prime Minister returned to his desk. This desk was meant to be the symbol of power but it only reminded him of his impotence. He had done everything he knew how, and now it was about to end in shame. There would be another landslide. The land would move back in the other direction and he would be exposed and left to take the blame. And then what? Of course he could get positions on boards or diplomatic placements. There would be plenty of openings and plenty of money, but when he looked in the mirror... Did he even want any of those positions knowing that he would always be branded a failure? Why not simply hide, out of the public eye?
There was no denying the facts. Unemployment and poverty were up and social action groups were increasingly outraged. The justice system had been undermined by three high-profile miscarriages of justice and at least one of those looked as if it resulted from corruption on a scale this country had never seen – corruption that spoke to the public of the country’s slide towards third world status. The Commission of Enquiry was still sitting – and mercifully wouldn’t report before the election – but it seemed his own Minister of Justice had known of problems and turned a blind eye. And again, of course, the public’s anger, and the media focus, turned on the Prime Minister and his management of the cabinet. How was he supposed to do something about it? He hadn’t even known about it.
To make matters worse, the All Blacks had, against all predictions, been eliminated in the early rounds of the world cup, and the polls revealed the people’s dissatisfaction with the government almost immediately.
There was a knock at the door. He didn’t respond but it opened anyway. His private secretary was well aware of the Prime Minister’s despondency. “Prime Minister...”
He hated being called “Prime Minister.” Once upon a time, it had seemed like the role was so important that the title showed more respect than using his name. Now he simply wanted someone to think of him as a person... someone to really care about him.
“Yes, Baxter,” he sighed.
Selwyn Baxter felt a surge of pity for this man. “Prime Minister, there will be a news story tonight saying that you have lost even the initiative to call an election; that you are simply ignoring it. I thought you should know. There will be opposition MPs interviewed on all of the major TV channels, all saying that you are refusing to talk even to your colleagues and are incapable of calling an election. Someone is going to have to front. Cooper, Howard and Fitzgerald are outside now. They want to know if it is going to be you or them. Prime Minister, they are all on your front bench but they say it is not going to look good if you don’t show up.”
The Prime Minister knew that a no-show would only confirm the rumours of his lack of leadership. But he also knew that his MPs had no confidence in him to pull it off anyway. Either way, he lost.
He had not yet lifted his eyes from his desk to look at Baxter.
From nowhere, some words entered his mind – word, he thought, from a song: All across the land dawns a brand new morn... This comes to pass when a child is born.
A brand new morn had some appeal. Imagine one child ushering in a new beginning. A rosy hue settles all around. How many millennia had there been people on this earth, the Prime Minister wondered. Throughout all of those centuries there had been leaders – many of them great leaders who names are now etched into stone and repeated time and time again in history books. And yet the world was not better; it was worse! Pollution; global warming; thousands of extinct species; crime; violence; poverty; domestic violence against women and children; unloved young people committing suicide; drug-taking; self-harm; sexual abuse of innocent children. No wonder there was a deep hunger for change. No wonder people were dissatisfied. No wonder people sang that song.
More words wandered through his mind:
And all of this happens, because the world is waiting.
Waiting for one child; Black-white-yellow, no one knows...
but a child that will grow up and turn tears to laughter,
hate to love, war to peace and everyone to everyone's neighbour,
and misery and suffering will be words to be forgotten forever.
It's all a dream and illusion now,
It must come true sometime soon somehow,
All across the land dawns a brand new morn,
This comes to pass when a child is born.
Was there such a child? He remembered hearing of some messianic character who was supposedly living in London, just waiting to be revealed. He hadn’t taken it seriously, but was this child somewhere – in Africa? In India? Must it come true sometime soon somehow?
When those swirling masses of people down below voted him out and the opposition in, weren’t they also hoping against hope for a leader who would prove to be different from all those who had preceded him? Wouldn’t they celebrate with such fervour because they too held a messianic hope that would maybe be fulfilled this time around – only to be disillusioned again a few years later?
He noticed he had used the word “messianic” twice in the last few thoughts. A Messiah. Huh! There were plenty of people ready to tell him that Jesus was the answer. Some of the rudest, most condemning letters he had received came from people who said Jesus was the answer. Cracked pots! As if, a guy from 2000 years ago could save the world. In fact, if He could, why hadn’t He already? He’d had 2000 years to do it.
All these thoughts didn’t answer Baxter’s question. He could hardly go on TV and sing “A ray of hope flickers in the sky.” He smiled. Imagine the Prime Minister singing, and claiming that a child was going to be born who would sort things out.
“Baxter, I’ll do it. Tell the guys to be ready for all media interviews. We’re going to have an election and we are expecting to win.” He felt that old rush of adrenalin that came with a challenge.
Baxter hadn’t moved. He obviously was not convinced. The Prime Minister knew that the country wouldn’t be either. Reality returned and he sighed deeply.
There was nothing he could do about the election. He could put on a brave face and look confident but that would only increase the ridicule he would receive when the inevitable results came in. The country did need a messiah. He didn’t believe the Leader of the Opposition would do any better than he had – worse, he suspected – but the country maybe saw him as a bit of a messiah.
The country needed a messiah. There were many deep-seated problems. But then so did he. His own life was a sham. His cause had not been helped by the revelations of his use of prostitutes. Tania had left him immediately. They had had years of virtual estrangement and that was the last straw. His own children had pulled even further away. Michael had been interviewed on TV and had obviously felt quite justified criticising him publicly. He wasn’t close to any of his colleagues. Some of them despised him.
The alcohol... He had persuaded himself that it was under control, but the tabloids carried stories of people seeing him drunk. He could deny it strenuously but only by lying. He had entered parliament determined have greater integrity than others but lying had become second nature to him now. When he admitted that to himself, he didn’t like it. He needed a messiah.
“Baxter, give me 30 minutes.” Selwyn Baxter withdrew.
Colin Fletcher, the Minister of Immigration, was a Christian. The Prime Minister phoned him and asked him to come up a.s.a.p.
That night the Prime Minister appeared on TV. He looked the camera straight in the eye and spoke from his heart. “Ladies and gentlemen, for me this is the end of the road. I will not contest the next election – not because we are behind in the polls. I believe we can turn those polls around and I will be campaigning with all my might. But I will not stand again. Serving this wonderful country as your Prime Minister has been a great privilege – a very great privilege. There is much for which I am grateful. But I also know that I have made many mistakes. Some of those mistakes have hurt you and I am sorry.”
“But many of my mistakes have hurt me and, more importantly, have hurt those I love most deeply. I am very proud of the electorate I represent but I am not very proud of myself. Today, I made a decision. I will not continue pretending that all is well when, in my own life, all is not well. I will not stand again because I need to repair, if I possibly can, the damage I have done to my family. My commitment now is to them.”
“But I now know that I cannot repair that damage. For all my pretence of confidence and skill, I do not know how. I need help and I would ask that you pray for me. I cannot be reconciled to my family without Jesus’ help. I never thought I’d hear myself saying that and I am sure you didn’t. You know that I have been openly sceptical about religion. Today, that has changed.”
“As a country, we face problems. Many of those problems will remain no matter who you elect, simply because we are not capable of solving them. We are not as wise, nor as powerful, as we make out.”
“Some cling to a hope that a child will be born who will “turn tears to laughter, hate to love, war to peace and everyone to everyone's neighbour.” Today, I met that child. He has already been born. It is my deep desire that, over these next years, indeed, for the rest of my life, Jesus will teach me, and help me, and heal me. If we, as a nation, also long for a Messiah, I say we turn to the Messiah who for 2000 years has been turning tears to laughter, hate to love, war to peace and everyone to his neighbour."
“I love this country. Indeed, I think I love it more now than even a few hours ago. I will fight for this country. But first I will fight for my own restoration and for my own family.”
“New Zealand, good night and may God bless you."
