Epitome of Coolness

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Epitome of Coolness is part political blog, part design critic and, well… whatever else I happen to fall into.

I own a business. I write. I challenge political rhetoric when I think it needs challenging. I produce Lunch Club Letters, which I don’t get paid to do. I’m also one of the admins of the Taupo Noticeboard.

None of this was supposed to end with me watching the most riveting Water Services Committee meeting imaginable while simultaneously engaging with a councillor who didn’t understand what a Facebook suspension meant.

Yes, Duncan.

That would be you.

I could literally see you sitting there on the livestream while I was watching the meeting, while also trying to explain to you six ways to heaven how a 24-hour Facebook suspension worked.

The irony was not lost on me.

Especially considering this saga began, in part, with Duncan criticising fellow councillors for apparently being more interested in their devices than what was happening in front of them.

To be fair, I’m not saying Duncan wasn’t paying attention. People can multitask.

I am saying there is something objectively ridiculous about being one of roughly ten people watching a Council meeting live while a councillor in that meeting is messaging you about Facebook.

And no, Duncan.

I will not explain the suspension again.

I’ve explained it enough.

Anyway.

I’ve defended Duncan before. I’ve defended his willingness to ask uncomfortable questions, his determination to challenge Council and, at times, even his rather abrupt way of doing it.

Because underneath the delivery, Duncan often has a point.

Even if he does sometimes take us around the mountain to get there.

In fact, last year I described him as a “useful watchdog” while also noting his “blunt, rough edges.”

Well.

The edges have apparently not been sanded.

And that’s really what this is about.

Not necessarily the argument.

The approach.

When the point gets lost

Duncan recently criticised fellow councillors after two Notices of Motion failed to get the support he wanted. His issue was that they hadn’t adequately explained why they voted against them.

That’s a fair question.

Elected representatives should be able to explain their decisions.

Calling them “dummies” and saying you’ll post again to “shame” them next time rather buries the point.

People told Duncan his approach was the problem.

Then he doubled down.

And this is where I think something very simple is getting lost.

Sometimes people understand your argument perfectly well. They just disagree with you.

That’s democracy too.

A brief Facebook intermission

Duncan shared the post to the Taupo Noticeboard, things got heated, and I gave him a 24-hour suspension to cool things down.

The post stayed up. It wasn’t censorship, and I didn’t consider “dummies” hate speech.

What I didn’t expect was having to explain the suspension repeatedly, eventually being asked to call and explain the Facebook settings.

Duncan, sometimes the answer has already been given. You don’t need to keep asking until you get a different one.

And yes, I know something about not knowing when to shut up.

I miss social cues too. I’ve had to learn when to hold my tongue and when to leave something alone.

Sometimes my brain still helpfully replays the whole conversation at 2am.

I call it the 2am Director’s Cut. Deleted scenes, additional commentary and everything I wish I’d said differently, remastered in glorious 4K.

We all get it wrong.

The trick is recognising when we have.

It’s not really about the fish

There’s a Harry Styles music video for Adore You where you could be forgiven for thinking the story is about a fish.

It isn’t really about the fish.

And this isn’t really about Facebook, dummies or whether Duncan can literally read a room.

It’s about accountability.

Duncan rightly expects accountability from Council.

So do I.

For the past couple of years, I’ve found myself asking more and more questions about how decisions are made and why.

Before that, I mostly just complained.

Apparently asking questions is what happens when complaining develops paperwork.

But accountability can’t only point outwards.

It applies to councillors, politicians, Council staff, bloggers, Noticeboard admins and everyone else.

Including Duncan.

If people repeatedly tell you the problem is your approach, eventually you have to consider whether they might have a point.

That doesn’t mean abandoning your argument. It doesn’t mean agreeing with everyone else. And it certainly doesn’t mean you stop asking uncomfortable questions.

It means recognising your own part in the room.

I still think Duncan can be a good councillor. He asks worthwhile questions and he’s prepared to challenge things others might not.

But when the delivery becomes louder than the argument, people stop hearing the argument.

And if you’re going to call everybody else a dummy for failing to recognise something you think is obvious, there’s a certain irony in missing something fairly obvious yourself.

Sometimes, Duncan, you’re the dummy.

We all are occasionally.

The difference is recognising it.

Read the room.

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Editor’s note: This is an opinion piece based on my own observations and interactions, alongside publicly available posts and Council meetings. Duncan Campbell is an elected representative, and the views expressed here are my own.