Tribute to Sir Paul Reeves - Dr Kennedy Graham - Notice of Motion

This nation mourns the death of Sir Paul Reeves. Put simply, a tōtara has fallen in the forest. But the occasion of his passing, although deeply sad to us all, is not tragic; rather, it is a cause for national celebration of a long life uniquely well lived. Sir Paul led as large a life as was possible—full of fun, laughter, love, and achievement. His personal fulfilment, and thus his contribution, was both spiritual and secular.

Sir Paul saw himself characteristically as a child of the nation he loved. He once said: "I was a product of this country at a time when there was social mobility or educational opportunities available to everybody. I didn't have the benefit of any material assets either personally or in my family. We were what you would call poor but yet I was able to go to secondary school and university. It is that question of access and the ability to match opportunities with an innate desire to achieve which is vital." With the passage of time, Sir Paul proved himself to be a vital person. Leadership is a subtle and elusive thing. When it is naturally present it is effortless. When it is absent it is laboured. Sir Paul had the gift of effortless leadership. He was humble yet dignified in style. He was genuine and authentic in person.

He was fearless in expressing belief. He was truly a man of integrity. Sir Paul embodied all the values for which our parties in this House strive—freedom and aspiration, equality and justice, cultural harmony, and ecological wisdom. In so doing he united us all through simply being himself, the symbol of a nation as a whole.

Let us then honour him in the manner he would wish, by resolving to live up to the standards he set.

I first met Sir Paul in New York, a few weeks after his arrival. He was virtually unknown in that huge, anonymous, preoccupied city, after having just been head of State in his home country. Such a transition might have grated with some, but not Sir Paul who found it, I think, to be something of a liberation. Once over lunch, for example, he told me of a courtesy call he had just made on the ambassador of a close neighbour. Sir Paul described his assigned mission in the new Anglican office to the UN, his hopes and aspirations, and the various challenges he was anticipating. The ambassador heard him out patiently, and then cut in and said: "Well, that's all fine, Paul, but tell me, what was your last job in New Zealand?".

Sir Paul did my wife and me the honour of assisting with our marriage some 20 years ago. He facilitated the arrangements for our wedding in Christchurch Cathedral and then officiated at our New York marriage celebrations shortly thereafter. He gave a special homespun dignity that day to what was a cosmopolitan and multi-faith grouping of friends in New York. We walked from the chapel, through the streets of downtown Manhattan, to our apartment across the road from the twin towers. I recall that moment in springtime as clearly as if it were yesterday.

New Zealand has been well served with leadership over the years. Our leaders tend to be of the rugged individualist type—they who climb mountain tops and sail the Southern Ocean, crawl into crushed buildings to hold a hand, or rescue mates under military fire. Sir Paul gave us a different vision of leadership. It was a refined, softer leadership that appealed to our better selves. It combined spiritual inquiry with secular wisdom. This type of leadership is rare in this land, and we are the poorer for having lost him. Yet Sir Paul would admonish us if we were to lionise him beyond what he would take to be his natural measure, to which I would reply: "All the more reason to respect and remember you, Sir Paul."

Let us lay to rest this great New Zealander, this humble man of our land, who spoke so thoughtfully, who stood so tall, who loved so much. Let us pay our deep respect, which we as a nation owe to Sir Paul Reeves. Let us then honour him in the manner he would wish, by resolving to live up to the standards he set.