Farewell 2007 – Welcome the Year of the Spud

After a promising start summer has stalled in a succession of southerlies, driving us indoors and towards more reflective pursuits. We read the papers and watch the tele, drawing in to the media’s annual obsession with taking stock of the old year and predicting the new.

I’ve learned a new word from the media’s review of the passing year. Hubris.

Hubris means arrogant pride or presumption. A new word, once discovered, pops up everywhere and I notice hubris is fashionable for commentators to sum up – or dismiss – 2007. America’s continuing shambles in Iraq is hubris. The Labour government is driven by hubris. Graham Henry was motivated by hubris. Pride and presumption – “I know what’s best for you” – are the dominant motifs of the year.

Is this merely media cynicism? Having spent the year talking ourselves down are we now victims of our own propaganda? Or was 2007 really as dreadful as it’s made out to be?

Looking back over the year, the doom and gloom merchants have had a field day. Chief among these is the Reserve Bank which has discovered that making the populace miserable is a far more effective tool than interest rates in the war against inflation. Alan Bollard has out-Scrooged even Michael Cullen in his predictions that we’re about to be ruined. Consequently the housing market teeters, finance companies drop like autumn leaves, factories move offshore and thousands flee to Australia.

It is ironic that we are talking ourselves out of one of the few genuinely prosperous times we’ve experienced in the past 40 years. Instead of celebrating the fact that most of us have never been better off; that we have jobs and money in the bank (or at least a good line of credit), we are wishing ourselves back into poverty.

This is a flaw of our national character, a kind of anti-hubris that makes us feel more comfortable with failure. As individuals we may be optimistic and strive towards success but as a nation we’re never happier than when the wheels fall off.

The evidence is overwhelming. Did somebody mention sport? I know, I know, it is a painful topic, but to a nation of cynics 2007 was a thoroughly satisfying sporting year. We lined up an unprecedented series of major events in which we potentially excel – and failed in every one.

That is, we failed to win. We scored a few seconds, thirds and fourths, which left us solidly within our comfort zone. Winning is much scarier. If we had triumphed, if we were now world champions in rugby, cricket or netball, if we held the America’s Cup, we would be like the mountaineer who reaches the summit and, instead of looking up and out to enjoy the view, looks down and is overcome by vertigo.

The media understand our nature and exploit it utterly. Good news is glossed over or explained away as accidental or, maliciously, as hubris. Bad news is pushed, promoted and picked over endlessly and nauseatingly. I don’t know if it is laziness or simply lack of imagination but most journalists seem to be permanently assigned to parliament or the police. Politics and violent crime dominate our news in obsessive and gratuitous detail. Stories are reduced to a few headlines that are repeated endlessly and hysterically.

In mainstream media there is almost no attempt to make sense of the news through discussion of context, background and detail. Analysis is reduced to opinion pieces by columnists or soap box diatribes by the subjects of the stories. The medium becomes the message: politicians (Michael Laws) and police (Clint Rickards) are media stars.

When cynicism prevails all behaviour seems motivated by self-interest. Take the Electoral Finance Bill. Here is legislation that springs from the praiseworthy motive of protecting democracy from the American disease – the growing influence of big money to decide who gets elected. We are told the legislation is imperfect but the argument is reduced to a political squabble that leaves us groping for the issue and mistrustful of all points of view. Politicians argue for or against it depending upon its possible effects upon their sponsors, and the opposition of large media companies appears driven by concerns about lost advertising revenue. Hubris indeed.

In my mind the single enduring image that captures the spirit of 2007 is a photograph of Andrew McAuley, the Australian who vanished off the Fiordland coast in February, just a few kilometres short of completing the first trans-Tasman crossing by kayak. The photo, taken hours before his death, was recovered from his boat and published widely. McAuley looks into the camera. Deep lines of exhaustion are etched into his cheeks and forehead. In the background the outline of the Fiordland mountains can be seen. In his eyes there is no triumph, only hopelessness and – worse - fear. It is as if, with his goal in sight, he knows he is about to give up.

That was 2007. I discovered yesterday that 2008 is the International Year of the Potato. This sounds far more comfortable – bring it on.