NZ First released a campaign video setting out Winston Peters’ argument for greater political influence under MMP and ending with an explicit appeal for the party vote. Stuff’s subsequent coverage shifted much of the emphasis from that political message to questions about the woman interviewing Peters, speculation about artificial intelligence and an assertion that the video had “confused some”. The question is not whether Stuff was entitled to examine the production, but whether its framing was supported by the evidence it presented to readers
NZ First's three-minute campaign video is not subtle about its purpose. Winston Peters argues that New Zealand has experienced decades of decline under governments dominated by National and Labour, contends that NZ First has never possessed sufficient political power to make the changes it seeks, and tells voters that MMP gives them an opportunity to change that balance. About a minute into the video, the interview format gives way to a direct political address in which Peters speaks about what he calls the “establishment status quo”, opportunity for ordinary New Zealanders, the country's future and NZ First's desire for greater influence in government. The video finally removes any possible doubt about its electoral purpose with the appeal: “Party vote New Zealand First and let's put New Zealanders first.”
That political argument offered journalists plenty to examine. Peters' assertion of long-term decline could be tested against economic and social measures; his claim that NZ First has never possessed enough power to make the changes it wanted could be examined against the party's participation in previous governments; and his argument about using MMP differently could be analysed in the context of coalition politics. Yet when Stuff reported on the video, those substantive political propositions became secondary to another story: who was the woman sitting opposite Peters, why did the production look unusual, and had viewers been confused about what they were watching?
From Political Argument to Production Mystery
Stuff's article, published under the headline “‘It’s a promo’: Winston Peters settles campaign video speculation”, opens by telling readers that the NZ First video looked “a little… odd”. Its embedded video goes further, carrying the title “NZ First's campaign video has confused some”. The article says the unidentified interviewer had “a lot of people scratching their heads” and that speculation the interview was produced using artificial intelligence “abounded online”. The woman was later identified as Auckland-based producer and actor Kat Hawkes, while Peters subsequently confirmed on TVNZ that the production was a campaign promo.
There was a legitimate journalistic question in establishing Hawkes' identity, particularly because Stuff says NZ First did not initially tell its reporters who she was when asked. There was also nothing improper about investigating whether artificial intelligence had been used, whether the woman was being presented as an independent journalist, or whether the format could reasonably mislead viewers. Those questions concern the authenticity and provenance of political communication and are therefore entirely fair territory for election journalism.
The problem lies elsewhere. Stuff repeatedly framed the story around public confusion, yet in the article supplied to eLocal it does not identify a confused voter, quote one, reproduce a social-media post demonstrating that confusion, link readers to the discussion it says was occurring, or provide polling or audience research showing how widespread the alleged reaction was. It tells readers that speculation “abounded online”, but does not show them the evidence from which that characterisation was drawn.
That distinction matters because the claim of confusion is not merely incidental colour. It helps define what the story is about. Rather than primarily inviting readers to consider Peters' political argument, the coverage invites them to consider whether there is something peculiar, artificial or potentially misleading about the vehicle through which that argument was delivered.
When the Frame Becomes the Story
Political journalism inevitably involves editorial judgement. Newsrooms cannot reproduce every campaign speech, policy release or advertisement in full, and journalists are entitled to decide that the production of a campaign video is more newsworthy than the claims made within it. The accountability issue arises when the chosen frame introduces factual propositions about public reaction without showing readers the evidence supporting them.
In this case the editorial progression is observable. NZ First releases a campaign advertisement advancing an argument about the two major parties, MMP, political power and the country's direction. Stuff redirects attention towards the identity of the interviewer and the possibility of AI, then describes the resulting situation in terms of confusion and online speculation. By the time Peters' substantive campaign message reaches the reader, it is being encountered inside a frame already coloured by questions about authenticity.
That does not prove that Stuff deliberately set out to damage NZ First, and the published material does not establish such a motive. It does, however, allow the effect of the framing to be examined without speculating about intent. A political message that originally asks voters to consider representation, economic decline and the balance of power under MMP is repositioned within a story asking whether something about its presentation is strange, artificial or confusing. In practical terms, the sequence becomes political message → questions about authenticity → alleged public confusion → political message becomes secondary.
This is better understood as doubt by association than as proof of deliberate deception. The term “gaslighting” would imply a level of intentional psychological manipulation that the available evidence cannot establish. But an editorial frame does not need to directly contradict a political argument to alter the context in which readers encounter it. Once uncertainty about authenticity is placed at the centre of the story, that uncertainty can accompany the political message even though it says nothing about whether Peters' underlying claims are true or false.
Was the Campaign Purpose Really Ambiguous?
The interviewer was initially unidentified to Stuff, and that justified asking who she was. But viewers encountering the video through NZ First's own social-media presence were also encountering material produced and distributed by a political party during an election campaign. More importantly, the video itself develops into a direct-to-camera political appeal and ends by explicitly asking viewers to party vote New Zealand First.
The Electoral Commission's guidance on election advertising defines an election advertisement as advertising in any medium that may reasonably be regarded as encouraging or persuading voters to vote or not vote for a candidate or party. It also requires election advertisements to carry promoter identification, with specific provisions applying to social-media advertising. The Commission's social-media guidance says that for social posts that have not been paid to be boosted, the promoter statement can appear on the account's About or Profile page.
Those rules do not settle whether Stuff's journalism was fair, nor do they establish whether every viewer instantly understood every production detail. They do provide relevant context: political parties routinely use persuasive production techniques, including presenters, actors, scripted conversations, music and direct-to-camera appeals. The meaningful journalistic test was therefore not simply whether Hawkes was an actor, but whether viewers were materially misled about what they were watching. Stuff's article does not demonstrate that they were.
The Political Story That Was Available
There was a stronger political story sitting inside the same three minutes of video. Peters claimed that New Zealand had experienced decline over the past 33 years while National and Labour alternated in power, describing them as “Tweedledum and Tweedledee, Pepsi or Coke”. He argued that NZ First had participated in governments without possessing what he considered sufficient power to make fundamental changes, and told voters that MMP now gave them an opportunity to alter how the country was governed. He framed the election as a contest between what he called an “establishment status quo” and ordinary New Zealanders seeking greater opportunity and political influence.
Those are substantial political claims. A newsroom could challenge the premise of national decline, examine economic performance across the period Peters described, test NZ First's record in coalition governments, scrutinise what greater NZ First leverage might mean in practice, and ask whether Peters' portrayal of an elite-versus-ordinary-New-Zealand divide accurately describes the country's institutions and economy. Such reporting would subject the campaign's message to scrutiny rather than merely transmitting it.
Instead, Stuff devoted much of its attention to the presentation surrounding that message. That is an editorial choice rather than evidence of wrongdoing, but it demonstrates one of the least discussed powers exercised by political media: the power to determine not only which political events receive attention, but what those events are understood to be about.
The Power to Define the Question
A political party may want an election debate to centre on taxation, while a newsroom may decide the relevant question is whether the policy is affordable. A politician may want to talk about immigration, while reporters may focus on whether the numbers being quoted are accurate. A party may release a campaign video about representation and economic decline, while journalists decide the more interesting question concerns the actor sitting opposite its leader. None of those editorial decisions automatically constitutes political bias. Journalism necessarily involves selecting, testing and reframing claims rather than acting as a transmission service for political campaigns.
But the power to frame also carries responsibility. When a newsroom moves from asking questions to making assertions about public reaction, those assertions become part of the factual architecture of the story and should be supported accordingly. Who is this woman? is a question. Was AI involved? is a question. Did the format risk misleading viewers? is a question capable of investigation. The video has confused some is a factual proposition, and readers should reasonably be able to see the evidence upon which it rests.
The distinction is particularly important during an election because news reporting occupies a different regulatory position from campaign advertising. The Electoral Commission's 2026 election guidance expressly excludes editorial content such as news items from the definition of election advertising. Its advice and complaints guidance also makes clear that the Commission does not regulate the content of campaign advertising, broadcasts or media activity, noting that the Broadcasting Standards Authority, Advertising Standards Authority and Media Council have roles within their respective areas.
That distinction is essential to press freedom, but it also means that much of the responsibility for maintaining evidentiary standards in political reporting rests with news organisations themselves. Political parties must identify advertising and comply with electoral rules. Newsrooms, meanwhile, possess broad editorial freedom to decide which aspects of that advertising become news and how those aspects are framed. The democratic safeguard is therefore not government direction of journalism, but transparency, evidence, professional standards and the ability of other media and the public to scrutinise those editorial decisions.
The Test That Comes Next
One Stuff article cannot establish systematic partisan bias. To make that larger case responsibly would require examining how the same newsroom treats comparable campaign material from National, Labour, the Greens, ACT, NZ First and other parties. Are staged promotional interviews routinely scrutinised? Are actors, dramatic music, scripted questions and other advertising techniques treated as potential authenticity controversies across parties? Are claims of public confusion supported with examples when other parties are involved? Does the substantive political message routinely become secondary to presentation questions, or was this treatment unusual?
Those are measurable questions and provide a much stronger basis for media accountability than attempting to infer political motive from a single article. If comparable campaign material from different parties receives materially different treatment, that pattern would warrant closer examination. If Stuff applies the same level of scrutiny consistently, that evidence would weaken a claim of partisan treatment. Either outcome should be allowed to emerge from the evidence rather than being decided in advance.
That is also why the issue raised by this article extends beyond NZ First. A functioning democratic media environment requires political parties to face sceptical journalism, but it also requires journalism itself to remain open to examination. Corporate news organisations exercise substantial power over agenda, emphasis and framing during an election campaign. Holding that power accountable does not require restricting it; it requires asking whether factual claims are supported, whether editorial standards are applied consistently and whether readers are being clearly shown where reporting ends and interpretation begins.
Will This in Fact Make New Zealand Stronger?
Will this in fact make New Zealand stronger? New Zealand is better served when political claims are rigorously tested regardless of which party makes them, and when media organisations are subject to the same expectation that factual assertions should be supported by visible evidence. The answer is not to demand favourable coverage for NZ First, National, Labour or anybody else. It is to insist that campaign messages be scrutinised on their substance while legitimate questions about authenticity, production and presentation are investigated on their evidence.
Stuff was entirely entitled to investigate NZ First's campaign video and identify the woman interviewing Peters. It was entitled to ask whether AI was involved and whether the format might cause viewers to mistake a staged promotional conversation for an independent interview. What its published article does not show readers is the evidence behind its repeated characterisation that people were actually confused or that speculation “abounded online”. Meanwhile, the substantive political argument contained in the campaign video becomes largely secondary to the mystery constructed around its presentation.
That is the media-accountability issue exposed by this example. Journalism does not merely report the political conversation; through selection and framing, it helps determine what that conversation is about. During an election campaign, that power deserves scrutiny precisely because it is so influential and because an independent press should not depend on public trust that cannot itself be questioned.
If the media demand evidence from politicians, voters are entitled to demand evidence from the media.
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