A review of The Press Kingmakers' Debate, scored round by round — not for policy, but for control, technique, and who tapped first.
Five leaders stepped onto the mat for The Press Kingmakers' Debate, livestreamed on Stuff on 1 October, with editors Andrea Vance and Jenna Lynch reffing. With the upcoming "Chris Mass" debates just days away, this was the warm-up service. Winston Peters, David Seymour, Chlöe Swarbrick, Qiulae Wong and Rāwiri Waititi, fighting for one thing — the right to ordain New Zealand's next prime minister. This isn't a polling scorecard, it's a breakdown of the party leaders' skill in statecraft. They'll be marked on communication technique, riposte, and stage presence.
The topics ran in loose rounds: pay and transparency first, then cost of living and power bills, health and Pharmac, AI and the tech future, and finally the coalition questions nobody wanted to answer straight.
Winston Peters: the Government Gladiator
Winston worked the match like the seasoned fighter he is, holding the widest range of political experience to draw from. Playing to his aces with ease and finesse, and using his seniority card so smoothly it barely looked like a move. Every angle got worked, the camera included, and the camera clearly loves him back.
Drawing from his background as a rugby player, a lawyer, treasurer, a Māori Affairs minister, a Foreign Affairs minister, x3 served as Deputy Prime minister. Winston name-dropped country after country borrowing examples, pulling up decades of lived NZ history with his mid 90's peak at the center. A mention of Helen Clark got dressed up as an endorsement. He pushes his opinions through with pure rugby nous: quickly spotting everyone's positions and anticipating their next moves, sometimes before they do, and Winston is agile enough to sidestep it altogether and gain the lead.
When something smells like corrupted spirit, Winston relied on heavily implying, dodging the legalese and jumping straight consequences, and leaving it up to the clever people to join the dots. He turned the mandates into a political football he could safely kick around because he was absent from government at the time and that freed him up to point some fingers and sling some zingers.
Not every attempt landed. His "rockets and microlites" line missed so badly he got looks from both David and Rāwiri. Winston got back up and twinkled straight down the camera and served It's A Wonderful Life. Not a clean finish, but it earned back points.
He wasn't the only one banking on his tenure, either. He and Chlöe kept circling back to the same record forty years, but he pulled rank as the original playmaker of how a minor party becomes a Kingmaker.
Chlöe Swarbrick: the Ambitious Architect
Chlöe's best defensive work came in quick, plucky exchanges: a cutting chuckle, a well-timed 'cough', a joke about mandating exercise, a dry quip about Winston loving migrants and being candid about not knowing anything about sunbeds... yeah. Though one misstep, loosely acknowledged: trying to tie the harm of the Ruthanasia era to Winston, reforms he was famously sacked for opposing. However, the ground was gained elsewhere. She was first to name the duopoly outright while everyone waited to see who'd touch the button. Then came the cleanest strike of the night - a scathing attack on forty years of promised trickle-down wealth - delivered directly to the audience, and channeling a very familiar Jacinda Ardern-esque energy.
Her lengthy, recited answers read weakest live but on transcript, they're built to outlast any other statements. Chlöe A sharp line wins a video clip; a careful paragraph wins the citation for her record. The Kiwimart pitch works the same way. Chlöe champions the policy and hands it off to the Commerce Commission; if it succeeds, the credit waits nine years down the track and would look very good on a financial portfolio.
That kind of seed planting reads as patience rather than haste, the mark of someone settling in for a long political career. There's a quiet self-preservation underneath it too: years spent studying the ministers who came before her, and deciding, carefully, that she can do better.
David Seymour: The Minister's Minister
David fights best off somebody else's setup, even if it's a 'gotcha'. He's a minister built to absorb. It's a familiar bluff from the mat too: go big, read the room, then decide from there where to go next - it's a safe play – but it keeps him one step behind the other players.
His pay figure dripped out sheepishly, and while the other players were happy to spar with him, they didn't appear to hold much faith in his policies. Winston's openly chortled at one of David's sidesteps, saying it was a bad escape route.
David's Jim Bolger name-drop carried an odd foreshadowing — for David, or for Winston, the man Bolger both sacked and later couldn't do without, before being ousted by his own party over it?
A few rounds deep and his fearmongering came in thick, delivered with the steady cadence of a sermon: an emergency on the books, falling birthrates, and a robot Armageddon on the horizon. Baby Boomers were both reassured and terrified in one breath, their instincts given a minister's blessing as they're carefully shepherded through the Digital Age. David voice and gestures grew until Winston was waved in from the sideline.
David's real skill shows in the scramble - when it gets messy or falls too flat - the bits that nobody controls. When things stalled, David filled the gaps quickly and kept everything moving.
Confronted with a question well outside his lane, on sunbeds, David showed surprising humanity, willingly admitting not knowing and asking for a memo rather than dismissing it outright. No question, it turns out, is silly question, and that's a solid way to play, but runs the risk of not being taken seriously.
Qiulae Wong: the Consolidating Consultant
Qiulae's promises were the biggest overreach in the room and cost nothing to make. She was often first asked, round after round, but struggled to land anything: when Winston pressed on how they'd become law, the groundwork wasn't there, and the claims shriveled under scrutiny. Classic shoot-and-scoot: throw the promise down, then step back before anyone can follow up.
The pivots held all night, routing through the collective, through trade partners, through a conversation we all need to have, and follow Australia's shining examples.
On the question of the two Chrises, Qiulae avoided an opportunity and continued to stayed strictly in neutral. Again, it cost her nothing, which made her approach feel like all block and no bite. However, it's difficult to break as the rookie to the public who view you as untested which can go both against her and also in her favour. She's quite a litmus test of where NZ culture climate sits and it's a real wait-and-see with Quilae.
Rewari Waititi: The Educator
Rāwiri was the best technician on the stage, and the case rests on one thing: precise, repeated and unshowy retention. Interrupted first and most, and a pay-gap question set like a trap got a measured breath from him instead of a flinch. It's here that Rāwiri taught his fellow leaders a valuable lesson in relatability, and he gave the finisher of the night. "The gap between the Haves and the Have-yachts", cleverly delivered to the people at home rather than to the panel, and a well-placed piece of stage play.
He'd done his homework on health. Rāwiri gave the audience a masterclass in briefing a room, citing a report from that same morning rather than just namechecking it, and speaking plainly about the cost, pointing to one man who sadly died in the bathroom at Waikato Hospital's emergency department, allegedly due to understaffing, after a reported nine-hour wait.
And Rāwiri's answer for easing the pressure on emergency departments showed real policy entrepreneurship, landing as practical rather than aspirational: preventative care, and free GP visits for people on low incomes. I haven't seen targeting this succinct since the Healthy Homes Initiative went after lowering the risk of rheumatic fever.
Rāwiri's sharpest moment in that round was a sombre statistic, not a hot-take; Māori elderly should be able to apply for their KiwiSaver early, because the numbers say plainly that too many Māori won't live to see the standard retirement age. Set against David's push to lift that age, it reframes the whole policy and moves the finish line further out of reach.
The idea worth developing: sustained systemic stress — a false accusation and its court case, a sensitive claim, a PTSD diagnosis, time in state care — as a reason to extend support, not withhold it. With a Minister for Mental Health already in place, recognising long-term stress as a genuine health cost, one that opens early KiwiSaver access rather than closing it off, would be genuinely innovative for minority communities.
Highlights and Lowlights
The lowest point of the night came on Pharmac. A host kept pressing at David until it read less like politics and more like something personal, close to family. Winston picked up on this and stepped in, calling time rather than playing the moment for points.
Andrea Vance and Jenna Lynch started sharp, but as the match wore on, both seemed to lose a bit of focus, which pulled the viewer's attention away from the stage.
The best moment of the night was the question about the two Chrises and it broke the room. Winston's palpable 'don't tempt me' written all over his sparkling face. The panel's reaction was priceless. David leaning out, as if to say, 'don't get him started'; Chlöe's eyes were giant as she bit her tongue, Rāwiri watched it unfold with a bemused 'go on then, talk your way out of this one', and Qiulae's strained laugh. It was office politics on display, and we were all here for it.
The Takeaway
Winston's love of the game shone through, and he defends his title well. He was the true grappler, at his best straight on the ground, able to squirm free of anything and play at any level. David strongarmed through, at his best in doubles, priming the room early and preferring to tag in a partner rather than tapping out. Chlöe's best work turned an opponent's own momentum against them. Qiulae shot and scooted, throwing the takedown and stepping out of the way. Rāwiri trained blindfolded, good under pressure, reading the audience, reasoning on his feet, and laying groundwork that had other leader's building on. For the Kingmaker's Debate 2026, player of the day is Rāwiri Waititi.