CHRIS HIPKINS may say he's happy with being labelled a socialist, but his political career and policy record reveal only a centrist politician, whose approach is far removed from genuine socialist politics. His embrace of the term illustrates how 'socialism' is often diluted into a vague rhetorical device, stripped of its radical meaning.
Chris Hipkins has spent his career within the Labour Party, a party that long ago abandoned its socialist roots (I'm being generous) in favour of a centrist, market-friendly consensus. His political trajectory has been defined not by efforts to challenge capitalism, but by managing its excesses in ways that leave the underlying system intact. Hipkins rose through Labour’s ranks during the post-Rogernomics era, when the party had already embraced neoliberal orthodoxy. His ministerial record—whether in education, health, or as Prime Minister—shows a consistent pattern: incremental reforms, technocratic adjustments, and a refusal to confront the structural inequalities produced by the market economy. This is not socialism. It is managerial centrism, which Hipkins defined to Guyon Espiner as 'a more active role for the state.'
When Hipkins says he is comfortable being described as a socialist, it is less a statement of ideology than a branding exercise. In New Zealand politics, 'socialist' is often deployed as a scare word by the right, and Hipkins’ casual acceptance of it is meant to signal resilience rather than conviction. But the reality is that Hipkins has never sought to democratise the economy, redistribute wealth in a transformative way, or place key industries under public ownership. Instead, at best, he has tinkered at the edges of a system that has failed ordinary people—offering modest cost-of-living relief, minor adjustments to welfare, and cautious climate policies that avoid confronting corporate power. These are the hallmarks of a centrist politician, not a socialist.
The term “socialist” itself has been rendered almost meaningless in mainstream discourse. It is tossed around by opponents to demonize even the mildest reforms and occasionally embraced by centrists like Hipkins to show they are unfazed by criticism. In this process, the radical tradition of socialism—rooted in working-class power, economic democracy, and public ownership—is hollowed out. When a politician like Hipkins, who has never challenged the dominance of private capital, can wear the label without consequence, it demonstrates how far the word has drifted from its historical meaning. Socialism becomes a rhetorical prop rather than a political project.
Contrast Hipkins’ politics with those of genuine socialists such as Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Zohran Mamdani in the United States. Ocasio-Cortez and Mamdani are members of the Democratic Socialists of America, and their politics are explicitly grounded in challenging capitalism. They advocate for Medicare for All, a Green New Deal, rent control, public housing, and the redistribution of wealth through progressive taxation. They speak openly about the need to democratise the economy and confront corporate power. Their socialism is not about tinkering—it is about transformation. Hipkins, by contrast, has never advanced policies that would fundamentally alter the balance of power between capital and labour. His approach is managerial, not revolutionary; technocratic, not democratic.
Hipkins’ comfort with the socialist label is therefore misleading. Neither he or Labour have pursued public ownership of energy or banking, nor has it sought to empower unions in ways that would shift economic power to workers. Instead, Hipkins policies are designed to stabilise the system, not replace it. This is the politics of a centrist who believes in managing capitalism, not dismantling it.
If his interview with Guyon Espiner is any indication, Hipkins only objection to capitalism is that it hasn't delivered the country 'a competitive economy.'
The danger with this kind of rhetoric is that it obscures the real meaning of socialism. When centrists like Hipkins can be described as socialists, the term loses its radical edge. It becomes synonymous with any policy that slightly inconveniences business or provides modest relief to households. This dilution serves the interests of the political establishment: it allows them to claim progressive credentials without challenging the economic order. Meanwhile, genuine socialists are marginalised, their demands dismissed as unrealistic, even as the centrist appropriation of the label empties it of substance.
Hipkins’ career exemplifies this dynamic. He has been a loyal steward of Labour’s centrist consensus, never straying into the territory of economic democracy or public ownership. His comfort with the socialist label is not evidence of conviction, but of how meaningless the word has become in mainstream politics. For ordinary people struggling under a system that concentrates wealth and power in the hands of a few, this rhetorical game offers little. What is needed is not a politician who tinkers at the edges, but a movement that confronts the failures of capitalism head-on.
In the end, Hipkins’ embrace of the term 'socialist' tells us more about the state of political discourse than about his own beliefs. It shows how socialism has been reduced to a branding exercise, detached from its radical roots. Genuine socialists like Ocasio-Cortez and Mamdani remind us of what the word actually means: a commitment to economic democracy, public ownership, and transformative change. Hipkins’ centrism, by contrast, is about managing a failed system, not replacing it. To call him a socialist is to render the term meaningless, and to obscure the urgent need for real alternatives.
One hundred percent correct.
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