Erica’s God Complex

by ELV

Why Our Sector’s Response Has Been Right All Along

Some days I sit with my coffee and wonder why Erica is so fiercely attached to the Education portfolio — clinging to it like a lifeline, insisting in every interview that she wants “nothing else,” even as her actions betray something deeper.

Some days it feels coy, a rehearsal for a future she desperately wants.

Other days it feels like she simply needs the validation that comes from being the “fixer,” the “rescuer,” the hero in her own narrative.

But then Friday’s showdown on the Herald’s Political Panel happened.

The lies came fast and familiar.

The disdain toward Willow was unmistakable.

The charm switched on for Ryan Bridge like a well-practised stage cue.

And any lingering thought I had about softening my stance dissolved.

Since then, I’ve held onto two questions like stones in my pocket:

#1 Why does she refuse to accept the sector’s pushback as legitimate?

#2 Why does she seem utterly convinced she alone will save our children?

At first, I reached for Harari’s Nexus — his explanation of how 'hackable' humans become in an age of data and digital persuasion, how power-drunk leaders learn to manipulate attention and certainty to secure devotion. That lens made sense for a moment.

But then I watched another social-media disaster dressed up as progress, another misleading claim delivered with complete conviction, and I thought:

She actually believes what she’s saying.

She believes the data is extraordinary.

She believes “knowledge-rich” is the magic cure.

She believes she alone holds the truth, the answers, the direction.

And then another possibility whispered in:

No — maybe she’s carrying someone else’s agenda.

Maybe she’s become the shield for people higher up, the scapegoat-in-waiting.

And one day, when the political winds shift, she will be the one they let fall.

But eventually, I asked myself the harder question:

Why am I even trying to understand her motives?

Why am I treating this like a puzzle instead of a pattern?

The truth is this:

I care because I still believe in justice.

I care because I want to believe evidence matters.

I care because educators spend our entire lives decoding behaviour.

And when I look at Erica, I see not a villain…but a deeply defensive young person in an adult body — dysregulated, brittle, fuelled by certainty because uncertainty feels like collapse.

So I shifted my lens.

I set aside the media, the spin, the storm.

And I imagined her not as a minister,

but as a traumatised student in my classroom.

If Erica Were in My Class:

A Ross Greene Perspective

Ross Greene teaches us that kids do well if they can — not if they want to.

Behaviour is communication.

Control is often protection.

Certainty is often fear wearing armour.

So if “Erica” were one of my young people, I would ask:

What is she trying to protect?

What skills are lagging beneath the certainty?

What fear is masquerading as confidence?

Her triggers are clear:

• She cannot tolerate feedback.

• She cannot accept blame.

• She collapses into defensiveness when things go wrong.

• She interprets pushback as personal attack.

• She experiences progress as something she gets to define alone.

In a classroom, we’d call this a control-based coping strategy.

The child who needs to be right is often the one who fears being unmasked.

The child who cannot accept correction is often the one who’s been shamed too many times.

The child who performs confidence is often the one who feels safest only when they hold the narrative.

We would never punish that child.

We would never humiliate them.

We would use the strategies that come naturally to educators:

• curiosity

• safety

• relational boundaries

• clear expectations

• gentleness woven with firmness

And before I go any further, I want to acknowledge something honestly.

Sometimes, in the swirl of social media, it can feel like people are fighting, slipping into unkindness, or lowering their stance by bullying or venting at one person. And yes — if I’m being truthful — there have been moments where even my own words may have edged closer to that line than I would like. It’s a human reaction to unjust systems and relentless pressure.

And yes — even the title of this blog, “Erica’s God Complex,” might be interpreted by some as unkind or as a low-level swipe. I want to be clear that it isn’t. It’s not written to belittle or bully a person. It’s written to name a pattern of behaviour that every educator in this country has witnessed and struggled to reconcile.

When we use terms like this, it is not to mock — it is to understand. To analyse. To make sense of the harm being done so we can respond with professionalism rather than spite. Naming a pattern is not bullying; it is a step toward clarity, accountability, and safety for the people we serve: our tamariki.

We do not need to resort to low-level behaviour or personal attacks, because that has never been the strength of this profession. Instead, we should keep doing exactly what we have done from the start: respond with the instincts of educators. Use the trauma-informed skills we draw on every day. Reflect carefully. Engage as if we were responding to one of our students — firm, clear, boundaried, and humane.

This is how we hold our professional mana.

This is how we stay aligned with our purpose.

This is how the sector has walked with integrity from day one.

Which brings me to the question: How do you reach a leader with a god complex?

How to Reach a Leader With a God Complex

A leader with a god complex is not moved by logic or quiet reason.

They are moved when the world around them leaves no space to rewrite reality.

So the path is not louder, but clearer.

Not angrier, but firmer.

Not fragmented, but united.

Here’s what reaches someone who cannot bear to be wrong:

1. Credibility They Cannot Dismiss

Facts alone won’t do it. Emotion won’t do it. 

But credibility — calm, independent, irrefutable — cuts through.

This means:

• peer-reviewed evidence

• independent verification of data

• cross-sector statements she cannot belittle

• academics, Boards, principals, and iwi leaders aligned

• precise language that leaves no room for spin

When the messenger cannot be discredited, the message must be confronted.

2. Public Accountability They Cannot Avoid

Private conversations evaporate. Public accountability cannot be escaped.

Open letters. 

Formal submissions.

Board resolutions.

Reports in the daylight.

Evidence that refuses to stay in the shadows.

Hubris hates transparency.

Mā te pono ka mōhio — through truth, we come to understand.

3. Collective Pushback That Speaks With One Voice

Unity is kryptonite to a god complex.

When:

• 1,448 Boards sign their names

• principals, teachers, parents, and iwi leaders repeat the same message

• rural and urban schools speak together

• the narrative becomes national, not niche…the leader can no longer dismiss it as “noise.”

A united front breaks the illusion of omnipotence.

4. Relational Firmness, Not Emotional Appeals

A god-complex leader does not hear emotion. They hear only weakness.

But firm, respectful, consistent boundaries? Those land.

Statements like:

• “We cannot implement this until the evidence aligns.”

• “We will protect our staff and tamariki.”

• “Your intention is noted, but your data is incorrect.”

Care in tone. Steel in clarity.

5. Boundaries, Not Begging

Begging feeds their certainty. Boundaries disrupt it.

Boundaries say:

• “We will not harm children for political sport.”

• “We will follow Te Tiriti regardless of clause rewrites.”

• “We will pause implementation until validity is proven.”

Boundaries are not rebellion. They are professional responsibility.

By all accounts, everything we have been doing as a sector has been right. The Treaty letters. The coordinated pushback. The insistence on truth. The refusal to be gaslit.

These were not attacks. These were not political games. These were the natural, trauma-informed responses of a profession that knows exactly what it looks like when someone in power becomes dysregulated.

We responded like teachers. Like experts. Like people who understand human behaviour better than any political strategist ever will.

We:

• stayed calm

• stayed factual

• stayed united

• protected tamariki

• upheld Te Tiriti

• refused to be silenced

And in doing so, we affirmed something essential:

We are justified.

We are correct. 

We are professionals acting on evidence, not emotion.

We are the adults in the room.

This isn’t rebellion.

It’s responsibility.

And it is comforting — deeply comforting — to know that our instincts remain sound.

We are still the people who know how to help every learner in our care. Even the ones who lash out. Even the ones who hide behind certainty. Even the ones who rewrite reality to stay intact.

Let’s trust the united front we have built — a front of truth, dignity, courage, and care.

And let us keep going.

Ngā mihi to the likes of Jodie Hunter, Sarah Aiono, Lynda Knight, Tania Waikato, I Am Brie Elliot, Leanne Otene, Bevan Holloway, the AEC, and many, many more who have responded to a leader’s God Complex with united truth and accountability — staying calm, providing facts, and being the adults in the room (often at personal cost, too).

Hold fast to the knowledge that professionalism is not passive — it is powerful.

Because if this sector has shown anything this year, it is this:

We are unshakeable when we stand together.

And we are not done yet.