There was a moment during Paul Henry’s interview on the weekend when I found myself wondering whether I’d accidentally tuned into a history documentary written through rose-tinted glasses.
The conversation drifted into the familiar refrain that New Zealand should somehow return to the 1960s – an era portrayed as simpler, stronger and somehow better than the country we live in today.
It makes for good nostalgia.
It doesn’t make for good policy.
“The problem with looking backwards is that memory has an uncanny habit of editing out the difficult bits. We remember what suited us and conveniently forget what didn’t.”
Yes, there were positives.
University education was more accessible. Many people enjoyed stable employment, home ownership was within reach for more families and there was a sense of optimism that came with post-war prosperity.
But let’s not confuse prosperity for some with prosperity for everyone.
For Māori, the 1960s were hardly a golden age. The recognition of Indigenous rights that many now take for granted simply did not exist. Te Reo Māori was actively discouraged in schools, the Treaty of Waitangi was largely ignored by successive governments, and Māori communities continued to face systemic inequities that would take decades to even begin addressing.
If we’re going to romanticise history, then let’s tell all of it.
The 1960s were also an era of exceptionally high taxation, with top tax rates exceeding 50 percent. Around the world, apartheid remained entrenched in South Africa. The Cuban Missile Crisis brought humanity to the brink of nuclear war. The Vietnam War escalated, claiming countless lives and dividing nations. The social upheaval that followed would shape an entire generation.
That wasn’t utopia.
It was history.
And history is rarely as neat as nostalgia would have us believe.
What struck me most about the interview wasn’t simply the yearning for the past. It was how disconnected that yearning felt from the reality many New Zealanders are living today.
For families choosing between groceries and power bills, debating whether the country was better sixty years ago isn’t particularly helpful.
For young people wondering whether they’ll ever own a home, nostalgia doesn’t reduce a mortgage.
For parents struggling with childcare costs or kaumātua deciding whether they can afford another trip to the supermarket, looking backwards isn’t a solution.
We need ideas that address today’s challenges, not yesterday’s memories.
There is also something deeply ironic about some of those championing a return to “the good old days”. It is easier to reminisce about simpler times when you’re financially secure, insulated from rising costs and far removed from the day-to-day pressures facing ordinary New Zealanders.
Perspective matters.
So does experience.
The danger in nostalgia is that it asks us to remember a country that existed for some while ignoring the country experienced by many others.
That’s not an honest conversation.
New Zealand deserves better than sentimental storytelling dressed up as public policy.
We should absolutely learn from our past. There are values worth preserving—community, opportunity, aspiration and investing in future generations.
But we shouldn’t confuse learning from history with trying to recreate it.
The future will not be built by pretending the past was perfect.
It will be built by honestly acknowledging where we’ve come from, recognising who was left behind, and making sure the next generation inherits something better than memories.
Because the golden weather wasn’t golden for everyone.
And nostalgia, no matter how eloquently delivered, is no substitute for leadership.
#Opinion #Politics #Election2026 #NewZealand #Māori #History #CostOfLiving #Leadership #WaateaNews #Aotearoa
