I recently finished reading a book called A Dictionary of Lost Words, a moving tale that left me thinking about the stories we lose when certain voices are left out of the conversation.
From her hiding place, she begins collecting discarded words, many of them spoken by women, by workers, by people whose language didn’t fit the mould. It’s a reminder that history isn’t just written by the victors, it is often edited by them as well.
So, when I read about the rushed passage of the government’s Equal Pay Amendment Bill, I couldn’t help but wonder what voices, what words, were they hoping would drop beneath the table.
Brooke van Velden, the minister behind the Bill, assures us it’s all about empowering women. A noble aim, no question. But her reassurances feel a lot like those of Emmeline Pankhurst, the famous suffragette who also features in A Dictionary of Lost Words.
I had always thought that Pankhurst had fought the fight for women to vote in the UK. What I learned was her fight was only for "some" women, not all women. Women who were property-owning, well-spoken and preferably able to prepare a cucumber sandwich without upsetting the tablecloth. Her fight did not include the working-class women of the time.
One could argue that Brooke herself fits nicely into Pankhurst’s vision of the ideal female citizen: well-paid, well-dressed and well clear of the factory floor, the night shift in aged care, our overstretched hospitals and schools, or our early childhood centres.
Her work career appears to have been confined to the closeted halls of public relations.
From there she has stepped into the world of politics where, as part of a minority partner in the coalition government, she enjoys the comfort of a salary of more than $300,000 a year, plus expenses. Not to mention the guaranteed, uncontested, annual pay rises, between now and the next election, of 10%.
In the context of The Dictionary of Lost Words, the word "irony" springs to mind.
I asked ChatGPT how Esme, the central character of the book, might define the word irony in the context of Minister van Velden’s rationale for her actions. This was the response.
Esme’s Definition of Irony in The Context of the Amendments to the Pay Equity Bill
Irony (n) A word that slips between intention and outcome, cloaked in contradiction. A silent smile, often bitter, where justice is spoken but not served.
It then went on to add:
"Esme might sit with the Oxford Dictionary draft in one hand and the newspaper article in the other, her fingers brushing over the word ‘equity’ as if to weigh its truth. She would see the irony not simply in the Bill’s withdrawal but in who introduced it. A woman in power proposing emergency legislation that would silence the voices of those sitting beneath the table with Esme - women whose work has long gone uncounted: the carers, the cleaners, the teachers, the nurses. Those without names who carry trays, wipe brows, and raise other people’s children. Irony is when those who have been voiceless the longest are asked, yet again, to wait their turn."
Van Velden, like Pankhurst, seems to be championing women’s rights while quietly stepping around the very women most in need of them.
At another level, there’s a wonderful irony (that word again) in A Dictionary of Lost Words.
"Pillock" - this too was a word that fell beneath the table, excluded from the original Oxford Dictionary by the men making the decisions on what words were to be included.
Apparently, it was a "woman’s word" and, crucially, one used exclusively to describe men. You can probably guess why the learned gentlemen of the time didn’t think it worthy of inclusion.
Back then, every word submitted for the dictionary had to be written on a small piece of paper called a slip, with an example sentence showing how the word was used in context.
I can already picture the slip for this one:
Word: Pillock (n)
Example in context: On hearing David Seymour make the claim that Brooke van Velden had saved her budget, the Minister of Finance, Nicola Willis, was heard to mutter, "what a pillock."
I can almost see Esme quietly sliding that one into the submission box with a wry smile. No explanation required.
But there is a lot of evidence that supports the case for pillock being used in the context of David Seymour.
• Treaty Principles Bill: millions of taxpayer money spent on a Bill everyone knew would fail when it came to Parliament.
• School lunch cuts: $3 meals outsourced offshore, delivered late and barely edible.
• Charter schools: more millions of taxpayer money spent on administration for just seven schools, one with half a dozen students — learning French.
• The tractor stunt: driving a Land Rover up Parliament’s steps, ignoring the advice of security guards that it was an offence.
All this while frontline workers like nurses, early childhood teachers, cleaners and caregivers, the very people historically undervalued and underpaid, are left out of the room, out of the process and out of the promise of change. They deserve to be heard.
Amendments to a Bill meant to fix a history of undervaluing women’s work is being pushed through in a way that continues to undervalue women’s voices. Esme would be shaking her head.
The fight for equity isn’t just about ticking boxes. It’s about understanding context, listening deeply and recognising the value of every contribution, not just the ones made from a seat in Parliament or a leather chair in a boardroom.
We have a chance here in Aotearoa to show what real leadership looks like. But leadership doesn’t mean charging ahead with blinkers on. It means slowing down long enough to make sure everyone’s with you, all voices are heard, especially those that are under the table.
Otherwise, we may one day find ourselves leafing through a future Dictionary of Lost Bills wondering how we managed to lose the meaning of "equity" and how the word pillock made such a triumphant comeback.
I was left wondering what alternatives might be used in place of pillock. There are a number - idiot, fool, simpleton, dunce - but a new one will be added to the list on May 31.
Deputy Prime Minister.
- Sir Ian Taylor is founder and managing director of Dunedin company Animation Research.
