By Lindsay Perigo
It was with great shock that I saw this in my Inbox last Friday afternoon. Quote:
“A Provocateur for Liberty”:
“The New Zealand Taxpayers’ Union marks the passing of Sir Robert Jones with sincere sadness and gratitude for a life lived without fear or filter, in relentless pursuit of free thought and freer markets.
“On behalf of the Taxpayers' Union, its Co-founder, Jordan Williams, said:
“Sir Bob was many things: a property magnate, a political party founder, a bestselling author, and a walking provocation to the politically correct. To us, he was also an unwavering champion of individual liberty, a firm believer in smaller government, and one of the rare public figures who didn’t just tolerate free speech – he weaponised it with wit.”
“Not only a major supporter of the Taxpayers’ Union, Sir Bob was a kindred spirit. He called waste when he saw it, mocked bureaucracy with precision, and understood that New Zealanders’ hard-earned money deserved respect – not reckless redistribution.”
“Wellington is full of quirks Sir Bob undertook. From the infamous ‘save the krill, kill the whales' billboard, to the “toilet in 100 metres” signs on the roads leading to Parliament. Together they form part of the city’s unofficial charm, and frankly deserve heritage protection. They’re as much a tribute to his mischief as his buildings are to his business.”
“Taxpayers owe Sir Bob more than a few laughs, a few lawsuits, and more than a few uncomfortable truths. Whether he was calling out bloated local councils or writing acid-tipped columns skewering public sector excess, he reminded us that good economics and good humour can – and should – go together.”
“We extend our sympathies to Sir Bob’s family, friends, and those brave enough to have edited his columns. He will be remembered not just for his towering achievements in business, but for the intellectual mischief he stirred in the public square. New Zealand is duller without him.”
Unquote.
It certainly is, and very well said Jordan Williams. Wellington is duller and liberty is more fragile without Bob. Cancel culture has succeeded in intimidating many would-be freedom fighters into silence, or worse, weasel-worded timidity in standing up for freedom; a timidity that crawls under the guise of “nuance.” Nothing nuanced about Bob. Is there a nuanced way of saying Waitangi Day should be given over to Maori serving breakfast in bed to white folk out of gratitude for colonisation? Who cares? Contrary to evil, stupid Woke-Fascists, Bob didn't have a racist bone in his body. Some of his best wives were non-white.
Nostalgically I dug out copies of my one-time magazine, The Free Radical, to which Bob was a frequent contributor. It was a libertarian monthly, dedicated to the proposition that all adult human interaction should be voluntary, that the only act that may properly be banned in a free society is the initiation of force or fraud by one party against another”. Bob was a natural for it, and for a while its columns boasted spirited exchanges between him and Don Brash, then Governor of the Reserve Bank, as to whether there should even be a Reserve Bank! There was some vintage Bob in Issue 8, December, 1994. An article called Joyless Jessonism. Bob had got himself all riled up about something said somewhere by then leading leftie, Bruce Jesson:
“The reason I've succeeded is that I've never been too ambitious. My rule has been: don't get too ambitious and you won't fail.”
“God help us all, wrote Bob. “What a snivelling, petty and cowardly way to cringe through life! If humankind was made up of Jessons we'd still be swinging in the trees. Descending to the caves, after all, would be far too ambitious, for there could be risk on the ground. … Reading this sort of stuff shakes me from my periodic apathy about these bastards with their euphemistic lies about promoting a caring society. If they really cared for people they'd promote self-sufficiency and risk-taking rather than encouraging dependency and caution.”
It was typical of Bob that, once he'd vented his spleen on someone publicly, he'd befriend that person. The traffic cop he called a “beer-bellied oaf,” and my erstwhile colleague Rod Vaughan come to mind. Bruce Jesson was another case in point. Bob took Bruce to lunch – along with me and Deborah Coddington. By that time, Bruce was terminally ill with cancer, and Bob offered him the use of one of his Sydney apartments. I believe there is a photo of the occasion, as there is of another lunch with Bob, me, Deborah and the magnificent Chris Lewis, long-time NZ tennis champ. Deborah, Chris and I had agreed that it was time to give Bob a good listening to, a line that I gather has become universal. I don't know who actually first came up with it. Anyway, I don't know if Bruce Jesson ever took Bob up on the Sydney offer, but it was a characteristic Bob gesture to make it. If he thought you were too fat, as he did me, he would let you know and offer you a gym membership. I know I never took him up on that, but I did, years later, accept another lunch invitation to his Wellington office. Yes, I thought, It's time again to give Bob a good listening to. Wine began to flow as soon as I arrived. Bob puffed on his pipe, in defiance of the laws against smoking in the workplace, talked and talked, attended to business matters brought to his notice by his right-hand man, Chris Gollins – at one point having a blazing row with someone in Sydney – greeted other visitors who came and went – but there was no sign of lunch. At length, as darkness fell, he informed me we were going to dinner. A short stroll took us to an Asian restaurant. I wondered if we would get in without a booking. “Oh, we'll get in,” said Bob. “I own the building.” Silly me. Now I had observed to Bob in advance of what I thought was going to be lunch that in Wellington these days it was hard finding an eatery where you could hear yourself think. He had assured me there'd be no problem. As it happened, this particular restaurant was quiet, apart from one table quite near ours. At it were a gaggle of shrill females talking, or rather, quacking very loudly, mostly all at once, and cackling even more loudly. It was exactly the sort of thing guaranteed to drive me crazy and Bob even crazier. Finally an overwhelming peal of cackling, far worse than Commie La-La, shattered our eardrums. It was intolerable. Sir Robert Jones leered up out of his seat and screamed, and I have to quote him unbleeped and verbatim otherwise the whole flavour of the story would be lost, “Nothing's THAT fucking funny!” After which, you could have heard a pin drop! We resumed our dinner, our conversation, and of course our wine in peace, unmolested by quacking and cackling.
I didn't ever see Bob again, after that. I'm not sure if I was on his list or off it, or, if off it, why. I'm not privy to why Bob the libertarian would have supported evil Damn Jabby Jacinda Jackboot's Wuhan mandates and lockdowns, and it puzzles me that he had such an advanced case of Trump Derangement Syndrome, given the similarities between him and Orange Man Bad-Ass.. We would assuredly have quarrelled over those things.
But our very first encounters dated back to my RNZ and TVNZ days, before I came out of the closet, libertarian or any other kind. Here am I in a 1991 Frontline special marking the retirement of Sir Robert Muldoon, former Prime Minister against whose interventionist, Big Government policies Sir Robert Jones led the charge. Muldoon is at home, listening in, ready to have the final word after my panel, consisting of former ministers Michael Bassett, Bert Walker, Michael Cox, and Ian Shearer, along with Sir Robert Jones beamed in from Sydney, have dissected his legacy. The Frontline Special begins with a 15 minute package by Richard Harman summarising Muldoon's career. We go to commercial break, then, as you'll now hear, I go to the panel, beginning with Bob.
It was almost as if Bob Jones was embarrassed about his role in toppling Muldoon and wanted to make amends. Chris Gollins says Bob was extremely fond of Thea Muldoon, and was upset over the distress his campaign against her husband caused her. Here's a clip from later in the programme.
As I mentioned, Muldoon was listening to all of this in his lounge at home, awaiting his turn. When he came on, it was vintage Muldoon.
The whole Frontline Special is on YouTube under the auspices of the official Parliamentary channel NZ Parliament. It's called Looking Back, Episode 4. You might not be surprised to learn that part of what Muldoon said I secretly, privately agreed with.
But back to Bob Jones. I said at the outset I was shocked to learn he had died. That wasn't just tokenism. I WAS shocked. “Die” was something Bob was not expected to do. Ever. He would never agree to it. He would be around for ever, on principle. All other people will die, and so they bloody well should. They should all bugger off! But he, Bob Jones? Die? What a bloody impertinence!! Bugger off!
Im going to look for him, to find out why he allowed this to happen. It should help that I'm currently reading Dante's Divine Comedy. I'm at the “inferno” part. If I find him, I'll ask him a couple of questions, as in old times, and I'll bring you the interview in a future perspective. But for now, Sir Bob, I read again Rudyard Kipling's If in your memory, I raise a glass or ten to you, and, for your services to liberty, bestow the Freedom Award.
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