Mr Speaker, I begin by congratulating you on your appointment. It is evident it is well deserved and affectionately accepted. In the brief moments I have been here, I recognise that your judgment, fairness, and humour will serve us well in both maintaining order and ensuring that all voices are respected, while allowing for robust and engaging debate.
I stand before you in this House today, acutely aware of both the privilege of my position and the responsibility. I reflect on the words of Jonah Lomu. When he was acknowledged for his humility, he responded that it is far better to have a seat at the back of the room and be called to the front, than the other way around. It is in my nature and foundational to my upbringing to value humility, so to enter this place with the honour of the appointment afforded to me, with a seat literally at the front of the room, has been unsettling. But I'm truly honoured to accept this position as one of service to those who have put their faith in me, and service to our nation and all its people.
On this point, I wish to acknowledge those to whom I owe this position. Firstly, to New Zealand First, my colleagues who stand beside me, and all those who gave up so much over the last three years to return us to Parliament. We truly are the party of hard-working Kiwi battlers, who welcomed me into the fold with encouragement, generosity of spirit, and friendship. The list is too vast to name you all, but I commit to you that I will dedicate my time here to realising the vision that we share.
But I will be clear: the success of New Zealand First comes through the leadership and strength of a man to whom I have the greatest admiration. The Rt Hon Winston Peters is without equal as a leader and a statesman. His vision, knowledge, wisdom, wit, and dignity will be essential as we navigate making the changes needed for this country.
I also cannot miss out my neighbour, the Hon Shane Jones. I know how much I have to learn, and I look forward to benefiting from your wise counsel, your courage, and your determination to navigate the rhetoric to deliver for New Zealanders.
To the Rt Hon Christopher Luxon, the Hon David Seymour, and the colleagues with whom we have formed a Government, I congratulate you all and look forward to continuing as we have started, working in the best interests of our wonderful country.
I acknowledge with respect all members in this House: those returning and those who stood in this House for the first time only recently. I fully appreciate now the commitment and dedication it takes to be in this place. It strikes me that there is so much more in common than many would believe. We are all here to serve, to give a voice to those we represent, and we are here to deliver on our promises. It is my hope that this common ground will serve us well as we navigate the work ahead.
Finally, I would like to acknowledge my family and friends who are here today. Thank you so much for standing with me. I won't embarrass you by naming names, but you're all part of my journey to this place. For some, you are my inspiration; for some, you are my safe haven; for some, you are my wisdom; and for some, you are my driving force. It is the simple lessons that you've given me: breathe, just breathe; that sometimes, digging a hole and working in the dirt is good for your soul; putting your shoulders back and looking people in the eye makes you strong; and after a tough day, a bag of chips and a lemonade can put things right again—and my dear friend Reihana, for saying, "Just get out there, girl."
Each of you bestow on me great gifts. You make me laugh, keep me grounded, and keep me focused.
But I do have to mention a couple of special people: Caity and Mitch. It has been my privilege to be your mum. I know how much you missed out on because I was always working. I remember how many times I have left you on the side of the road, waiting to be picked up, but you've always forgiven me, you've always stood by me, and you've challenged me, fought with me, and made me a better person. It is my great joy that not only do I get to love you as my children but I really like you as people.
I am aware I enter this House as somewhat of an anomaly. To be a first-time MP launched into this position is a very rare occurrence. My only experience with this place has been working in security, which is hardly a political credential.
It struck me as I took my seat in this House for the first time that this journey is no longer about me; it is about duty and responsibility. It is about service and accountability. It is about those who have gone before to pave the way and those who will follow after I leave. It is about the reverence and importance of this place, the tradition and respect it should be afforded. I will do my best to do justice to this great privilege.
I am a product of the strength and love of whānau, those that are here with me today and those across the world that I know are watching me now. I am one of six children, with my mother—who is here with me today—being just 17 and my father 22 when they married and started their family. My father was the son of a country schoolteacher and was himself one of seven children.
His mother, Renee Costello, descended from settlers who came here to this country in the 1860s. My grandmother was a tiny woman with unrivalled strength and intelligence. When I was a child, she was my quiet place to be. I could use up all my time talking of her achievements, of the seven children that she raised, and of my aunties and uncles and cousins, who have been an enormous part of my life. I know that from her I inherited my stubborn resolve to work hard, to work for those who depend on me, and to be the person who will sit quietly at the back of the room, observing and listening.
My father, John Costello, was lost to me five years ago. Despite being one of six, I know my siblings will agree that there was a special bond between him and I.
He was a storyteller. He loved three things in his life with, I believe, equal passion: his family, the written word, and horse racing. He started his life as a journalist cadet, but after a few short years, combined his love of horse racing with his job. He considered himself the luckiest man alive to be paid to do what he loved.
He was the first journalist inducted into the Horse Racing Hall of Fame, he wrote Tapestry of Turf—The History of New Zealand Horse Racing, and was a champion for the industry. He will always have the last laugh, as he managed to get away with naming half of his children to have the initials of racing clubs before Mum found out and put a stop to it.
There was absolutely no airs and graces to him. He would drive into the members' car park at Ellerslie racecourse with his beaten-up old Toyota Corolla, with different-coloured panels, without even noticing the fancy vehicles around him. He could walk into any public bar in this country and have a beer and spin a few yarns, and would greet everyone with the same level of respect. That is the gift he gave me: to see people for who they are as individuals, and know that everyone has their own story that is worth listening to.
There is not a day that passes that I do not think of him, and I cannot express how much I wish he was here today if for no other reason than to write this speech. I can feel him sitting above me, wanting to take out his red pen to correct my grammar and spelling.
As I said, my good fortune was family, and therefore I have to pay tribute to my mother and my tupuna. My mother, Maryann Costello, not only gave me life but kept me alive. As a sickly kid, she rallied to do what she knew in her heart I needed. She made me strong; she literally taught me to breathe. It is her strength and warrior-like determination to provide for her family that has made me the person I am.
My grandparents, Hone Pane Tamati Waka Nene and Queen Esther-Louise Davis, were Mama and Dangy to us. It was Dangy who we would trudge behind as he taught us how to find and harvest kai, and how that kai was then shared around to take care of our people. It was Māmā who would have a table of I don't know how many children, my cousins, in her tiny kitchen and, magically, food would appear. Her grace, her dignity, her warm heart, and her wisdom made you know what unconditional love really meant.
It was my great-grandfather, Lou Davis, Popop, that hand-rolled a tennis court in the paddock and built a dirt floor shed for table tennis lit by Primus lamps. It was in that place that he trained champions who set records and represented New Zealand. A couple of them are here today. One news article I found aptly describes Popop. It says: "And you will know that he is Lou Davis, earnest champion of sport for youth and for the wellbeing of the Māori race." This is another example of the legacy I have been given. Whether it is Māmā and Dangy, Māmādear and Popop, Poomama and Poopapa, Eru Nehua and Te Tawaka, I know by example what it means to do, not just talk.
I talk of my tūpuna, and of my whānau not to qualify for some credentials to be recognised as Māori. I know who I am and my strength comes from who has gone before and who are with me now. I tell this story because we are all a product of a journey that saw us come to this House. I am privileged to have lived my life with a connection to my hapū, to have spent my childhood on the land that generations before me walked and lived in Whakapara and Bland Bay.
I descend from Tapua, whose children were Tari, Patuone, and Tamati Waka Nene, the latter both being chiefs who signed Te Tiriti o Waitangi and, in so doing, became part of building the nation we now enjoy. This is our story, and my truth is from our lived history. I am Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Hau, and Ngātiwai.
I am also a product of another family. I joined the police as a wide-eyed 20-year-old, and that was where I grew up. I did most of my service in South Auckland and worked my way through to becoming a detective-sergeant. Very early in my career, I was a delegate for the Police Association, advocating for better conditions and protections for my police family—eventually being elected by my peers as vice-president, working in that role with one of your assistant speakers, Greg O'Connor.
Since leaving the police, I have worked in security and construction. I have managed teams of up to 300 employees. I know what it takes to run a business and make it successful, and I know what it takes to get people to work together. I know the terror of wondering if I have done enough to make payroll this week, and the delight of seeing people you employed learn a trade and go on to successful careers. It has been in my nature, in my genes, and in my heart to strive to make a difference. I have lobbied against government waste and lack of transparency, and to demand accountability. I have fought for New Zealanders to be treated equally before the law, rallying against a narrative of race-based division. I have defended the rights of exploited migrants, advocating for victims in vulnerable communities.
I see the task ahead is to show leadership in how we respect and accommodate difference while getting on with the job of finding practical solutions and not commentating on the problems. It is not to respond to those who have the loudest voice and who make the most noise; it is our job to restore balance and deliver outcomes. Like all police who leave the job, I have the stories; the faces that haunt you. I know the face of inhumanity, of cruelty, and suffering. I have seen fear, despair, and more death than I want to remember. But I have also witnessed bravery, selflessness, and compassion.
I understand people and I know how, in unity, amazing things can be achieved. As I look ahead, I know we need so much more than faux indignation and misplaced guilt that makes us paralysed from making progress. I will not tiptoe around the difficult conversations. I will not allow noise and rhetoric to distract from delivering on what we have promised. I will not allow the most vulnerable to be used as a bargaining chip to gain political relevance.
I will close in the words from my grandfather, Hone Pane Tamati Waka Nene Davis, who said over 35 years ago: I believe that racism among a people, and in a country such as ours, is an evil that must be completely eradicated from our midst, and replaced with a better love and understanding of our fellowmen. Racism raises its ugly head in so many different areas that it causes friction between two worthy people—Māori and Pākehā—and may even go further and cause disruption between Māori and Māori. To add to this, it may even go further into a community and cause a rift in family relationships.
Where it causes the greatest havoc is when it enters into individuals who become distrustful, suspicious, and even antagonistic of their fellowmen. This, in turn, following along a natural sequence, breeds violence. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the situation we are in today and the monster has entwined me in its evils. I will honour my grandfather's words. This is my legacy, and for this legacy, I will make my stand in this House and for this country.
Casey Costello, is a former Detective Sergeant, Vice-President of the Police Association, and former spokesperson for Hobson’s Pledge. Now the Minister of Customs, Minister for Seniors, Associate Minister of Health, Associate Minister of Immigration, and Associate Minister of Police.
On this point, I wish to acknowledge those to whom I owe this position. Firstly, to New Zealand First, my colleagues who stand beside me, and all those who gave up so much over the last three years to return us to Parliament. We truly are the party of hard-working Kiwi battlers, who welcomed me into the fold with encouragement, generosity of spirit, and friendship. The list is too vast to name you all, but I commit to you that I will dedicate my time here to realising the vision that we share.
But I will be clear: the success of New Zealand First comes through the leadership and strength of a man to whom I have the greatest admiration. The Rt Hon Winston Peters is without equal as a leader and a statesman. His vision, knowledge, wisdom, wit, and dignity will be essential as we navigate making the changes needed for this country.
I also cannot miss out my neighbour, the Hon Shane Jones. I know how much I have to learn, and I look forward to benefiting from your wise counsel, your courage, and your determination to navigate the rhetoric to deliver for New Zealanders.
To the Rt Hon Christopher Luxon, the Hon David Seymour, and the colleagues with whom we have formed a Government, I congratulate you all and look forward to continuing as we have started, working in the best interests of our wonderful country.
I acknowledge with respect all members in this House: those returning and those who stood in this House for the first time only recently. I fully appreciate now the commitment and dedication it takes to be in this place. It strikes me that there is so much more in common than many would believe. We are all here to serve, to give a voice to those we represent, and we are here to deliver on our promises. It is my hope that this common ground will serve us well as we navigate the work ahead.
Finally, I would like to acknowledge my family and friends who are here today. Thank you so much for standing with me. I won't embarrass you by naming names, but you're all part of my journey to this place. For some, you are my inspiration; for some, you are my safe haven; for some, you are my wisdom; and for some, you are my driving force. It is the simple lessons that you've given me: breathe, just breathe; that sometimes, digging a hole and working in the dirt is good for your soul; putting your shoulders back and looking people in the eye makes you strong; and after a tough day, a bag of chips and a lemonade can put things right again—and my dear friend Reihana, for saying, "Just get out there, girl."
Each of you bestow on me great gifts. You make me laugh, keep me grounded, and keep me focused.
But I do have to mention a couple of special people: Caity and Mitch. It has been my privilege to be your mum. I know how much you missed out on because I was always working. I remember how many times I have left you on the side of the road, waiting to be picked up, but you've always forgiven me, you've always stood by me, and you've challenged me, fought with me, and made me a better person. It is my great joy that not only do I get to love you as my children but I really like you as people.
I am aware I enter this House as somewhat of an anomaly. To be a first-time MP launched into this position is a very rare occurrence. My only experience with this place has been working in security, which is hardly a political credential.
It struck me as I took my seat in this House for the first time that this journey is no longer about me; it is about duty and responsibility. It is about service and accountability. It is about those who have gone before to pave the way and those who will follow after I leave. It is about the reverence and importance of this place, the tradition and respect it should be afforded. I will do my best to do justice to this great privilege.
I am a product of the strength and love of whānau, those that are here with me today and those across the world that I know are watching me now. I am one of six children, with my mother—who is here with me today—being just 17 and my father 22 when they married and started their family. My father was the son of a country schoolteacher and was himself one of seven children.
His mother, Renee Costello, descended from settlers who came here to this country in the 1860s. My grandmother was a tiny woman with unrivalled strength and intelligence. When I was a child, she was my quiet place to be. I could use up all my time talking of her achievements, of the seven children that she raised, and of my aunties and uncles and cousins, who have been an enormous part of my life. I know that from her I inherited my stubborn resolve to work hard, to work for those who depend on me, and to be the person who will sit quietly at the back of the room, observing and listening.
My father, John Costello, was lost to me five years ago. Despite being one of six, I know my siblings will agree that there was a special bond between him and I.
He was a storyteller. He loved three things in his life with, I believe, equal passion: his family, the written word, and horse racing. He started his life as a journalist cadet, but after a few short years, combined his love of horse racing with his job. He considered himself the luckiest man alive to be paid to do what he loved.
He was the first journalist inducted into the Horse Racing Hall of Fame, he wrote Tapestry of Turf—The History of New Zealand Horse Racing, and was a champion for the industry. He will always have the last laugh, as he managed to get away with naming half of his children to have the initials of racing clubs before Mum found out and put a stop to it.
There was absolutely no airs and graces to him. He would drive into the members' car park at Ellerslie racecourse with his beaten-up old Toyota Corolla, with different-coloured panels, without even noticing the fancy vehicles around him. He could walk into any public bar in this country and have a beer and spin a few yarns, and would greet everyone with the same level of respect. That is the gift he gave me: to see people for who they are as individuals, and know that everyone has their own story that is worth listening to.
There is not a day that passes that I do not think of him, and I cannot express how much I wish he was here today if for no other reason than to write this speech. I can feel him sitting above me, wanting to take out his red pen to correct my grammar and spelling.
As I said, my good fortune was family, and therefore I have to pay tribute to my mother and my tupuna. My mother, Maryann Costello, not only gave me life but kept me alive. As a sickly kid, she rallied to do what she knew in her heart I needed. She made me strong; she literally taught me to breathe. It is her strength and warrior-like determination to provide for her family that has made me the person I am.
My grandparents, Hone Pane Tamati Waka Nene and Queen Esther-Louise Davis, were Mama and Dangy to us. It was Dangy who we would trudge behind as he taught us how to find and harvest kai, and how that kai was then shared around to take care of our people. It was Māmā who would have a table of I don't know how many children, my cousins, in her tiny kitchen and, magically, food would appear. Her grace, her dignity, her warm heart, and her wisdom made you know what unconditional love really meant.
It was my great-grandfather, Lou Davis, Popop, that hand-rolled a tennis court in the paddock and built a dirt floor shed for table tennis lit by Primus lamps. It was in that place that he trained champions who set records and represented New Zealand. A couple of them are here today. One news article I found aptly describes Popop. It says: "And you will know that he is Lou Davis, earnest champion of sport for youth and for the wellbeing of the Māori race." This is another example of the legacy I have been given. Whether it is Māmā and Dangy, Māmādear and Popop, Poomama and Poopapa, Eru Nehua and Te Tawaka, I know by example what it means to do, not just talk.
I talk of my tūpuna, and of my whānau not to qualify for some credentials to be recognised as Māori. I know who I am and my strength comes from who has gone before and who are with me now. I tell this story because we are all a product of a journey that saw us come to this House. I am privileged to have lived my life with a connection to my hapū, to have spent my childhood on the land that generations before me walked and lived in Whakapara and Bland Bay.
I descend from Tapua, whose children were Tari, Patuone, and Tamati Waka Nene, the latter both being chiefs who signed Te Tiriti o Waitangi and, in so doing, became part of building the nation we now enjoy. This is our story, and my truth is from our lived history. I am Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Hau, and Ngātiwai.
I am also a product of another family. I joined the police as a wide-eyed 20-year-old, and that was where I grew up. I did most of my service in South Auckland and worked my way through to becoming a detective-sergeant. Very early in my career, I was a delegate for the Police Association, advocating for better conditions and protections for my police family—eventually being elected by my peers as vice-president, working in that role with one of your assistant speakers, Greg O'Connor.
Since leaving the police, I have worked in security and construction. I have managed teams of up to 300 employees. I know what it takes to run a business and make it successful, and I know what it takes to get people to work together. I know the terror of wondering if I have done enough to make payroll this week, and the delight of seeing people you employed learn a trade and go on to successful careers. It has been in my nature, in my genes, and in my heart to strive to make a difference. I have lobbied against government waste and lack of transparency, and to demand accountability. I have fought for New Zealanders to be treated equally before the law, rallying against a narrative of race-based division. I have defended the rights of exploited migrants, advocating for victims in vulnerable communities.
I see the task ahead is to show leadership in how we respect and accommodate difference while getting on with the job of finding practical solutions and not commentating on the problems. It is not to respond to those who have the loudest voice and who make the most noise; it is our job to restore balance and deliver outcomes. Like all police who leave the job, I have the stories; the faces that haunt you. I know the face of inhumanity, of cruelty, and suffering. I have seen fear, despair, and more death than I want to remember. But I have also witnessed bravery, selflessness, and compassion.
I understand people and I know how, in unity, amazing things can be achieved. As I look ahead, I know we need so much more than faux indignation and misplaced guilt that makes us paralysed from making progress. I will not tiptoe around the difficult conversations. I will not allow noise and rhetoric to distract from delivering on what we have promised. I will not allow the most vulnerable to be used as a bargaining chip to gain political relevance.
I will close in the words from my grandfather, Hone Pane Tamati Waka Nene Davis, who said over 35 years ago: I believe that racism among a people, and in a country such as ours, is an evil that must be completely eradicated from our midst, and replaced with a better love and understanding of our fellowmen. Racism raises its ugly head in so many different areas that it causes friction between two worthy people—Māori and Pākehā—and may even go further and cause disruption between Māori and Māori. To add to this, it may even go further into a community and cause a rift in family relationships.
Where it causes the greatest havoc is when it enters into individuals who become distrustful, suspicious, and even antagonistic of their fellowmen. This, in turn, following along a natural sequence, breeds violence. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the situation we are in today and the monster has entwined me in its evils. I will honour my grandfather's words. This is my legacy, and for this legacy, I will make my stand in this House and for this country.
Casey Costello, is a former Detective Sergeant, Vice-President of the Police Association, and former spokesperson for Hobson’s Pledge. Now the Minister of Customs, Minister for Seniors, Associate Minister of Health, Associate Minister of Immigration, and Associate Minister of Police.
4 comments:
Oh thank you God for Casey Costello! My very very best wishes to you my good and intelligent friend. Live long and prosper.
Impressive!
I wish Casey well.
Has a great future - we hope!
A true NZer.
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