The latest suicide stats are out and it’s difficult to know what is the most horrific part of them.
Is it that those numbers are the highest ever recorded?
Is it that those are the official stats and that the real numbers could be twice that?
Or is it the never endlessness of those stats that betray our hope? The refusal to ever acknowledge that the 30 year neoliberal experiment in society, culture and economics has reaped a bitter harvest of mostly men who are so alienated from themselves that their loneliness and grief swamp the daybreak of the present.
We ignore and shun these statistics because it says something so unholy about us as a culture, the malaise of rugged independence at the heart of NZ is a wound that never heals.
Every mention of suicide comes with trigger warnings and a plethora of phone lines in a never ending repetition of desperate virtue signalling with little virtue.
As NZ looks to pass legal suicide law with the Euthanasia legislation, the virtue being signalled is less an honour and more a hollow lie.
Meanwhile the Labour Government have still not delivered upon a new mental health system and simply continue to nod their heads piously with concerned language and no solutions.
In the land of the long white cloud we wearily dig our own graves and beg for ending to close the midnight of our internal rage against ourselves.