Chlöe Isn’t a Saint, David Isn’t a Villain

In my circles—both in real life and online—it’s clear who’s in the good books and who isn’t. Chlöe Swarbrick? Loved. David Seymour? Loathed. So, let’s talk about Chlöe and David.

Update: This article has been edited to correct an error about Green Party electoral wins. Thanks to those who pointed it out.

We love to love some politicians and love to hate others. And because of that, changing anyone’s mind about any politician is impossible. That’s a problem.

I don’t think politicians deserve as much attention as they get—but here we are, endlessly debating their every move. So, let’s talk about two in particular: Chlöe Swarbrick and David Seymour.

Before we get into it, let me be clear—I’m not here to convince you of anything. I just want to humanize them both. Chlöe isn’t a saint, and David isn’t a villain. If that’s hard to imagine, stick with me.

Because this isn’t just about them. It’s about how we think about politics. How we govern, the ideologies we champion, the policies we defend, and the narratives we accept without question. Since we seem obsessed with politicians, let’s actually break these two down.

A couple of weeks ago, David Seymour driving up the Parliament steps actually made me laugh. Gerry Brownlee’s response made me laugh too. And yet, somehow, it turned into A Thing. Why do we care so much? Yes, it was ridiculous, but it was also just a fundraising stunt. Meanwhile, Marama’s back—what a relief—because it’s clear Chlöe was struggling.

I don’t know David personally. Never met him. I do know Chlöe—I’ve debated against her a few times. She’s smart, prepared, and deeply committed to politics. She wanted to be in the arena more than she wanted to be anywhere else.

Yet, among the people who love Chlöe, the most common thing I hear is that she didn’t want to be a politician. That she’s in it for the “right” reasons. That she isn’t like the rest. And when I mention why I think she’s struggling as a party leader, the response is always: Well, that’s just part of her strategy.

Like they can’t acknowledge that she might just be having a bad year. Or that she actually wanted to be a politician. Or that wanting to be a politician isn’t inherently bad. Because the truth is, Chlöe absolutely wanted to be a politician. And that doesn’t disqualify her from being a good one.

Let’s be real—politicians in New Zealand don’t enter politics for power. If power, wealth, or influence were the goal, there are far easier ways to get there. Being a politician is a massive sacrifice. The scrutiny, criticism, and public pressure aren’t worth it unless you genuinely believe in what you’re doing.

So if you think all politicians are just in it for power, please stop. It’s not true, it’s not helpful, and it’s a lazy way to evaluate politics. I’d rather you say you can’t be bothered with the whole thing than spread misinformation about something that affects all of us.

Now—let’s talk about Chlöe and David.

Chlöe and I during a debate in the 2023 Elections in Wellington Central

How They Got Here

(Correction: An earlier version of this piece incorrectly stated that Chlöe Swarbrick was the only Green MP to win an electorate. Jeanette Fitzsimons won Coromandel in 1999.)

Chlöe Swarbrick’s rise in politics is well known. A law and philosophy student who launched businesses in fashion and media, she ran for Auckland mayor in 2016 at just 22 years old. Her campaign wasn’t about winning—it was about proving that young people deserved a seat at the table. As she put it at the time:

“I committed to a bid for the Auckland mayoralty… angered at the lack of critical issues being addressed, and dismayed at the disconnect between the people of Tāmaki Makaurau and the policy that would regress or progress our city for the next three years.”

Then, in 2020, she pulled off the unthinkable—winning Auckland Central, a historically blue seat. She won an electorate for the Greens after 20 years, following Jeanette Fitzsimons’ victory in Coromandel in 1999 (Correction added post-publishing). She caught national attention and, a year later she entered Parliament through the Green Party list.

David Seymour, on the other hand, came into politics in a more conventional way. An engineer and policy advisor, he was recruited by the ACT Party in 2014 to take over Epsom—a safe National seat that ACT holds through an electoral deal. Unlike Chlöe, he didn’t have to fight an uphill battle for public legitimacy. He was installed into Parliament by design.

This contrast is important. Chlöe entered politics as an outsider trying to break into the system. David entered as a participant in a long-established political arrangement. That alone shapes how people see them.

What They Stand For

At their core, Chlöe and David operate under very different ideological frameworks.

Chlöe is a progressive environmentalist and social democrat, advocating for government intervention in markets, strong public services, and wealth redistribution. She wants the state to be an active player in solving social inequalities.

She is deeply influenced by critical theory, seeing power structures as the root cause of inequality. On her page on the Greens website, it states:

“Chlöe works to show all New Zealanders that our institutions are just made up of people making decisions, and that these decisions are often constrained by systems designed to give power and privilege to the few.”

I disagree with this framing. It’s an oversimplified and problematic way to describe our institutions and the people who work inside them. Yes, our institutions exist within the legacies of patriarchy, colonization, and capitalism, but that doesn’t mean they don’t work tirelessly to become fairer and more functional every day. But that’s a topic for another day.

David, on the other hand, is a classical liberal with libertarian instincts. He believes in small government, free markets, and individual responsibility. He sees government intervention as a necessary evil—one that should be limited as much as possible.

Put simply:

• Chlöe sees systemic problems requiring government-led solutions.

• David sees individuals and markets as the key to fixing society’s problems.

This isn’t a subtle difference—it’s a fundamental ideological divide. Neither of them is good nor bad though, which is where we all get really confused. We must be able to remove moral judgment from political decisions. This is controversial, I know, but please try and think about this differently, if nothing else for shits and giggles. Then you can go back to holding for dear life to your own certain, incorrect beliefs.

We judge politicians not just by their policies, but by the stories we tell ourselves about them. Chlöe is framed as the reluctant advocate, fearless leader—someone who had to step up because no one else was doing the work. David is framed as the ambitious libertarian who deliberately inserted himself into power and wants nothing more.

But what if that framing is just that—a story?

Chlöe wanted to be a politician. She ran for office because she believed in what she was doing, and she’s pursued power like anyone else in Parliament. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Through power, you influence, and influencing is THE job of a politician.

David, too, believes in what he’s doing. Whether you agree with him or not, he’s consistent in his ideological convictions, and has been for years, done nothing illegal, always worked within the constitutional frameworks that New Zealand has given him.

The point isn’t to argue that one is better than the other. The point is to challenge how we think about politicians, scrutinize them evenly and fairly and try and work around our double standard where we let our favorite politician off the hook, and then overly critises the one we don’t like, regardless of the merit of their policies or work.

For example, remember the TPP?

When National negotiated the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP), protests erupted, critics accused them of selling out sovereignty, and opposition parties—including Labour and the Greens—capitalized on public outrage.

But when Labour, with the Greens, renegotiated and rebranded it as the Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP), the protests disappeared.

Same policy. Different party. Different reaction.

That’s not critical political engagement. That’s lazy and myopic. Because if we’re only willing to scrutinize the politicians we dislike while giving a pass to the ones we admire, regardless of the policy, then we’re not really thinking critically about politics at all.

Final Thought: What If We Swapped Them?

What if Chlöe led ACT and David led the Greens?

Would we still feel the same way about them? Or would we just find new reasons to justify our existing opinions?

Something to think about.

Nat