Newsroom’s series of articles on the Free Speech Union has been illuminating.
Perhaps the most entertaining was David Williams’ account of their AGM in Christchurch, which featured the Wizard of Christchurch, Brian Tamaki and ‘prominent conspiracy influencer’ Chantelle Baker as well as Jordan Williams from the Taxpayers’ Union and Eric Crampton from the New Zealand Initiative.
[…] Separately, in an article in the New Zealand Herald about the new curriculum, Jonathan Ayling, a former chief executive and ongoing consultant to the FSU writes: “Humility before truth is the essence of education. Its purpose is not to confirm what we already believe, but to challenge how we think.”
I agree with that statement. In their campaigns, it would be good if the Free Speech Union and fellow travellers like the New Zealand Initiative and Taxpayers’ Union showed that kind of modesty.
Instead, while instructing the universities’ vice-chancellors on academic freedom and now schools on how to manage their affairs, they exhibit a fixed belief in the virtue of their own convictions.
Pot – Kettle – Black.
In many ways, however, these are self-contradictory.
In supporting David Seymour’s decision to remove a reference to Te Tiriti o Waitangi from the Education and Training Act, Ayling goes on to argue for “an Enlightenment approach to education grounded in universal reason”.
But “universal reason” suggests there is only one right way to think. How does that fit in with freedom of thought, and speech?
Classic straw-man argument. We’re not talking about freedom of speech here. We’re talking about the best way to teach our kids.
And is there such a thing? One of the most profound ways to discover what we already believe, and to challenge how we think is to engage with different languages and cultural traditions.
Well actually there is. It’s why we teach (or ought to) things like Shakespeare, mathematics, the scientific method, etc, in schools. These are universal.
The ways in which languages partition and shape the world vary across different cultural trajectories, and these patterns frame how we think and what we believe in ways that are so deeply taken for granted that they are often invisible.
The process of becoming immersed in a language and a culture very different from our own may challenge these hidden assumptions. As they begin to shift, new possibilities for understanding emerge. Such exchanges can be very creative.
Please let me know if you can understand that word salad, because I can’t.
In recent years, I’ve had the privilege of joining a series of workshops at the University of Cambridge led by Sir Geoffrey Lloyd, an authority on ancient Chinese science, Greek science, the formation of the disciplines in the Enlightenment and cognitive science, among other subjects.
[…] Based on the evidence presented at these workshops, Ayling’s claim that there is a single “universal reason” cannot be sustained.
A rigorous, evidence-based inquiry into the variability of human ways of knowing, past and present and across different cultures, reveals that human understandings of the world do differ, sometimes quite radically; and are always limited (if only by our biology) and provisional.
Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I think this means that, instead of teaching maths the normal way, you should do something like ‘If Rangi has an ounce of weed and gives half to his mate and smokes half of the rest how much weed does he have left over in grams?’
The debate is about the extent of that variability, and its limits. As any historian of science will attest, truth claims vary through time, and paradigm shifts can be profound.
Yes, but science isn’t about truth and has never claimed to be about truth. It’s a methodology for knowing the best we can based on the evidence available at the time. Theories change as we discover more; a classic example is what gravity is and how it works. In fact the correct response to any new theory is ‘How very interesting and how very likely to be very, very, wrong.’
[…] To argue, as Ayling does, that the New Zealand curriculum should be based on an ‘Enlightenment approach grounded in universal reason’ is simplistic, and ill-informed.
Education should be evidence-based with the aim of giving our kids the best education possible. Where’s the evidence that having the TOW as something that permeates everything from teaching science, literature, etc, does this?
[…] The practical effect of claims about ‘universal reason’ is to shut down open-minded inquiry into how human ways of knowing might vary, and enrich each other – for instance, by cutting research funding for the humanities and social sciences in New Zealand.
One of the first principles of scientific investigation is that knowledge claims should be based on rigorous research, and tested against evidence by those with relevant expertise before they’re judged to be reliable.
Excuse me, but I just got a headache reading that. It reminds me of how trannies change the meaning of the word gender and then change it back to the original meaning whenever it suits them. Again we’re talking about the best way to give our kids the best education possible.
[…] The key question to ask about ‘free speech’ is freedom for whom, and about what? Across the country at present, as well as in schools, Māori interests are being marginalised, and Māori voices silenced.
Actually no, the key question is whether we have it or not, and if we do have it, how can we protect it. I’m not even going to comment on the ‘Māori are oppressed’ bullsh*t.
Basically Anne’s argument is that we should teach the TOW in schools and give it holy status ’cos freedom of speech. I’d admit it is a creative argument, but totally wrong. What we should be focusing on is giving our kids the best education possible, based on what we know works.
Link: https://newsroom.co.nz/2025/11/18/anne-salmond-free-speech-but-only-one-way-to-think/
Kevin is a Libertarian and pragmatic anarchist. His favourite saying: “There but for the grace of God go I.” This article was first published HERE
5 comments:
Re: “Please let me know if you can understand that word salad, because I can’t.”
Surely, her point here is that Indian and Chinese Kiwis and immigrants generally bring “new possibilities of understanding” and creativity. [Yeah, right!]
Geoffrey Lloyd’s work can be understood as saying that our cultural perspectives may differ but that we all need, for example, some form of negation — yes/no — in our languages. He studies pairs of opposites this way — on/off, day/night, good/bad, male/female, and so on — in human languages. The cultures may differ but what is universal — that is, the need for the ‘yes/no’ bit — is deeper than mere culture and remains safely untouched by anything Salmond is saying.
On her word salad:
She seems to use ‘human ways of knowing’ as a stand in for ‘human culture’. This sends her into a state of confusion. She starts out okay: It’s fine to say that human cultures differ and might enrich each other. (No worries there.) But her fancy language gets her tied up in knots, and has her confusing the obvious point that ‘cultures differ’ with the silly claim that ‘knowledge differs.’
We can all respond to her by saying that ‘knowledge is universal.’ We say that because we don’t even call it knowledge if it isn’t universal. If we are not talking about what’s universal, then we’re talking about things at the level of belief or opinion — but beliefs and opinions ARE shaped by culture.
So, no, Dame Anne, multicultural studies are not on a par with maths. Māori cultural interests are not on a par with physics and bio and chem and computing.
Salmond is the high priestess of the new religion worshipping pagan Maori deities. She has spent her entire career defending her faith, espousing Maori wonderfulness. Except that she has no real world experience of living day to day among everyday Maori who inhabit a social reality on the streets of Ōpōtiki, Taneatua, or TeKuiti. No, Anne’s world of Maori cosmology and customs is centred around University campus’s where she has status and prestige and she gets to avoid rubbing shoulders with her uncomfortable brethren, the Mongrel Mob. Were she to be truly honest with herself about her beliefs, she might just admit that not all cultures merit being placed upon a pedestal. Some beliefs are better relegated to the dustbin of the past. Anne doesn’t appear to know the difference.
I agree, Kevin.
Consider then, Simon Wilson’s latest nz herald column, Western civilisation: The virtuous and calamitous reality, is a masterclass in modern media positioning. The headline alone signals Wilson’s stance: as if he alone is the fount of moral and intellectual authority, the arbiter of what readers should think. He surveys history, cherry-picking “facts” to balance admiration for Europe’s achievements with a nod to its sins, all while positioning himself as a sophisticated, morally attuned observer. The effect? A confident assertion of intellectual dominance disguised as reasoned inquiry.
The spark for this particular display was Paul Kirk, a former educator and commentator whose measured views were selectively quoted and reframed to make him seem reactionary. Jonathan Ayling of the Free Speech Union—whose experiments in “classical” schooling Wilson critiques—is at the center of this story. Wilson doesn’t simply disagree; he curates a moral and historical narrative in which Kirk and Ayling appear flawed, while he stands as the enlightened intermediary.
Anne Salmond is Wilson’s kindred spirit in influence. For decades, she has sat at the High Table, cultivating a sprawling network with tentacles stretching into universities, the bureaucracy, parliament, and mainstream media.
Think James Bond’s Spectre: an amorphous apparatus quietly shaping culture and policy. Salmond, like Wilson, is less a lone actor than a node in this network, guiding ideas, nurturing acolytes, and ensuring ideological orthodoxy is maintained.
The disciples are numerous: Philip Matthews, Kirsty Johnston, Paula Penfold, Verity Johnson, the RNZ longform crew, Eva Corlett, many at The Spinoff, Newsroom culture writers, and TVNZ documentary producers.
Collectively, they form a media ecosystem not unlike the adversaries in John Wick: omnipresent, invisible in plain sight, and enforcing a consistent worldview. The scale ensures that narratives are filtered, dissent reframed, and the orthodox perspective elevated as the only sensible moral compass.
Wilson’s strategy is textbook: begin with a seemingly balanced premise—Western civilisation has virtues and vices—then layer in selective historical context, philosophical framing, and moral corrections, all while asserting the moral high ground. Readers are invited to admire his discernment, nod along at his historical caveats, and internalise the implicit lesson: Wilson knows best.
Meanwhile, Kirk’s views, along with Ayling’s support for classical schooling, are subtly caricatured. The framing elevates Wilson while marginalising dissent under the guise of reasoned critique.
This is more than journalism; it is cultural curation.
Wilson, and his tribe of Salmond disciples operate within a neoliberal “woke” framework, one that mixes historical guilt, social engineering, and moral spectacle.
Their columns, workshops, and institutional influence collectively define the boundaries of acceptable thought. By selectively amplifying certain “facts” and suppressing inconvenient ones, they create the impression of intellectual rigor while quietly enforcing ideological conformity.
For readers, recognising the mechanics of this framing is essential. Wilson and Salmond are not lone voices; they are the visible tip of a media apparatus ensuring that narratives conform to a familiar worldview, while dissenting arguments are treated as anomalies or curiosities. Understanding this network—the Spectre behind the curtain and who sits at the High Table— is one step toward reclaiming perspective and questioning whose interests are truly being served.
—PB
I really do enjoy PB's insightful comments. Keep up the good work!
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