The indomitable Nikki Kaye
The former minister and Auckland Central dynamo has died aged 44. Toby Manhire writes.
I remember distinctly the 2020 interview that Nikki Kaye gave to Kathryn Ryan on RNZ that morning. It was just after the departure of Todd Muller as National leader, with the party reeling still from a period of unimaginable bloodletting. Kaye – who had played a role in the coup that had seen her elevated to the deputy leadership – had just announced that she was quitting politics. Kaye accepted the timing, with an election imminent, was “not great”. But she could not have predicted “the events that have occurred in the last period – the most extraordinary thing I have seen in my life in politics.” And something else: her recent breast cancer diagnosis had reinforced her view that “you have to live every moment … You have to know when your time is up and you’ve given it your all.”
It signalled the end of a remarkable 12 years as a member of parliament. She had been minister for education, for ACC, for Civil Defence, for youth. She’d twice seen off challenges from another promising young politician, Jacinda Ardern, in Auckland Central – a territory she prowled day and night like a proud, enraptured cat. She’d overcome breast cancer. She’d been picked by some as a future leader. Indeed, she had become acting leader of the National Party for a few, tumultuous days. All that, and she even found time to complete ultramarathons.
And, impossibly, Kaye was still just 40 years old. She seemed to have in front of her the possibility of, I don’t know – a second chapter doesn’t quite capture it; almost a second life. Which made the news today of her death, at 44 years old, after cancer encroached again, seem crueller still.
The fissures exposed in National around the time Kaye called it quits were always there. At its best the party is a big-tent assembly, and, in John Key’s titular team, Kaye was an important pole: the voice and personification of the socially liberal, young urban New Zealander. She was a strong voice for the arts, for the queer community. An avowed “blue-green”, she fought for marine protection in the Hauraki Gulf and more than once spoke out against her own party’s position on mining.
Kaye put it this way in her valedictory statement: “As a party, we are at our best when there is balance. That is when we are truly representative of this great nation.” In the same speech, she memorably described telling the prime minister about her cancer diagnosis, “The only reason that I was able to become minister of education was that John Key, as I cried my eyes out, said, ‘You’re not fucking going anywhere.’”
In Auckland, she was much more than a symbol of something. Conscientious doesn’t capture it. Kaye – who by the National Party’s count handled over 50,000 constituency cases – made an extraordinary impact across the Auckland Central electorate. There are thousands of stories out there from people with whom she left an indelible impression, and you don’t have to look far to find them. I looked across the office a moment ago, for example, and my colleague Anna Rawhiti-Connell, who in a former life was a denizen of the Auckland arts scene, told me this: “I knew her like half of central Auckland knew her, which is to say, well enough to have the odd drink. She was my age when she made her run at Auckland Central and the prospect of that for the city was thrilling.”
Anna said: “She earned the support of so many who might not have been considered typical National party voters by working incredibly hard to understand what the arts and culture sector meant to the central city and win over the arts community. It was rare for her to miss an Auckland Theatre Company opening night. You only had to explain something to her once and she had it locked forever. Quite gifted at drawing people in, speaking like she meant it and listening, intensely.”
I remember her that way, too. Like most politicians, Kaye could sometimes come across in public as a bit robotic, a walking talking-point. But away from the cameras she was disarmingly unaffected. Not gossipy, especially, but unfalteringly engaged, curious, frank – eager to discuss the issue of the day or admonish me for some pisstake or other of her boss. She seemed to have read and watched and got her head around just about everything.
Nikki Kaye on Fish Out of WaterAs a teenager, Kaye was willingly stranded on Rakitu Island as part of an early experiment in reality television, and fell in love with Rakitu’s larger neighbour, Aotea Great Barrier, while MP for Auckland Central – the constituency includes Aotea as a distant but cherished outpost. Post-politics, her attachment to the island only grew. In a rare interview with Audrey Young for the Herald in 2022, conducted on Aotea, Kaye said: “The Barrier is heaven on Earth. I love the community here. I love the landscape. It is place I feel very connected to.”
Kaye’s successor in Auckland Central, the similarly insatiable and soul-searching Chlöe Swarbrick, said this morning she was “utterly devastated” at the news of Kaye’s death. She wrote: “Only a few weeks ago we were texting about ensuring sustainable and resourced ambulance services on Aotea Great Barrier island. She had made time and time again through the years, even and especially well after politics, for whoever reached out for help and notably for a number of women in my life struggling with breast cancer.” (Already, Marama Davidson, Kiri Allan and Jan Tinetti have paid tribute to Kaye for helping them through tough times.) “Her work in Auckland Central set the bar for what it meant to be an electorate MP and respected across the aisle.”
That commitment often seemed inexhaustible, but of course it could not be. Back to that RNZ interview. Kaye said: “I haven’t talked in detail about my health before. I hope that I’ve got 30 years. But I try and live like I’ve got 12 months. That’s how I approach life. There’s a philosophy that comes from a fairly traumatic set of events with cancer.” She said: “I’m really looking forward to being a hippie on Great Barrier. Being on the couch, in my jammies, on a weeknight. These are things I’ve never experienced. Part of that is getting my life back.”
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