by Maree Buscke

“Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.”

Sir Walter Scott’s immortal line from his 1808 poem Marmion could serve as an apt preface to the latest work by Trevor Loudon – author, researcher, political commentator, and Kiwi abroad.

Following on from his 2024 release Comrade Prime Minister – a deep dive into the communist influence and grooming of Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese – Loudon now turns his focus a little closer to home.

Godzone’s Enemies is an unflinching investigation into a collection of current sitting MPs from three political parties – Labour, the Greens, and Te Pati Maori – and the socialist and communist influences that have shaped, supported, or intersected with them. It’s easy to dismiss Loudon as the man who sees “Reds under the bed” at every turn, but in this case his research – complete with sources, documents, and receipts – is undeniably meticulous.

Through early associations, memberships, mentorships, family legacies, and private gatherings within Wellington’s political elite, Loudon maps an intricate web of influence. What struck me most was how often the same names reappeared – lobbyists, political provocateurs, and activist networks spanning multiple MPs and even multiple parties. A tangled web indeed.

There’s also a curious fascination, shared by members of all three parties, with Cuba – regular audiences with successive Cuban ambassadors suggest an enthusiasm that goes well beyond diplomatic niceties. As the reader can’t help but wonder: what real interest would New Zealand have in Cuba? We might enjoy a Bacardi and Coke, but really?

The book opens powerfully with an account of an encounter between a famous New Zealander and the The Lenin School in Moscow, tracing how that ideological connection influenced the development of New Zealand’s nuclear-free legislation – still a political sacred cow today.

At its heart, Godzone’s Enemies is a cautionary tale. Loudon argues that it takes only a few hundred motivated individuals – spread across political parties, unions, activist groups, and the public service – to steer a nation’s policy direction under the comforting veneer of democracy. Why do Maori politicians and activists have such a fascination with the Zapatistas of Mexico, or the deep tentacles enveloping the Fabian Society and Labour? Why are the Green Party really watermelons? The book challenges readers to look past political branding and ask the fundamental question: cui bono? – Who benefits?

I’ll concede that Loudon occasionally draws a long bow, but every time he does, he provides a connection or piece of evidence to support it. It will be interesting to see what pushback – if any – emerges from the MPs and influencers named in these pages, many of whom wield tremendous unelected power.

If you’ve been watching the recent turmoil within the Greens and Te Pati Maori and Labour, Loudon’s book invites you to look more closely at the people behind the politicians, who and what motivates them – and to draw your own conclusions.

Oh, and one piece of practical advice: grab a highlighter and a red ball of string. You’ll need both to follow this tangled political web woven through our very own Godzone.