By Roselyn Fauth
Two portraits of two Timaru Mayors, here is my reflective heritage essay exploring leadership and tall poppy culture through the lives of James Craigie, Mayor of Timaru Borough Council: 1902–1913, and Muriel Hilton, Mayor of Timaru Borough Council: 1959–1962. They were two Timaru mayors who led in very different eras but shared the same courage to serve, stand tall, and lift others. Images: James Craigie South Canterbury Museum 2016011031. Mrs M E Hilton South Canterbury Museum 2016011041.
They never knew each other, yet I bet both carried the weight of a growing Timaru city on their shoulders.
James Craigie and Muriel Hilton led Timaru in different era's, in different ways. Decades later, their stories ask us the same question: how do we lead with courage, care, and kindness in a world that doesn’t always reward it?
Every community has its own microculture of service and vision, and these two mayors are an interesting example of this. One an Edwardian visionary who built for progress and beauty, the other an Elizabethan mid-century trailblazer who led with care.
After learning about them, I think their stories can be more than politics. By reflecting on their leadership, we can learn more about what it means to belong, to serve, and to keep believing in a community. I wonder if they ever felt lonely or frustrated, and if they felt at times that people didn't always believe in them? Here is my blog about the two mayors, and trying to get my head around New Zealand's "tall poppy syndrome"... a social phenomenon where people who achieve success, stand out, or show confidence are criticised, resented, or “cut down” by others who feel uncomfortable with their visibility or achievements...
The "tall poppy" idea according to Google, comes from an ancient Roman story in which Tarquin the Proud struck the heads off the tallest poppies in a field to show how to deal with anyone who rose too high. Over time, the story became a metaphor for cutting down those who stand out, and in places like New Zealand and Australia, it took root in a culture that prizes equality and modesty... sometimes so much that it discourages ambition or self-belief.
Tall poppy syndrome is especially common in New Zealand because our culture values equality and humility so strongly that success or confidence can sometimes be mistaken for arrogance.
But when we learn to celebrate each other’s successes with generosity instead of comparison, we turn that same love of fairness into a culture of encouragement...
The Post Office and the Public Library, Timaru. Hocken Digital Collections, accessed 10/09/2025, https://hocken.recollect.co.nz/nodes/view/23731
Let's start with James Craigie – Who I see as The Visionary Builder
James Craigie was born in 1851 in Coupar Angus, Scotland, and came to New Zealand with his family in 1867. He moved to Timaru in 1873, where he began as a painter and decorator before building a successful glass and decorating business that would later form part of Smith & Smith.
By the turn of the century, he had become one of the town’s most active civic figures. He was elected to the Timaru Borough Council in 1901 and served as mayor from 1902 to 1913. He also chaired the Harbour Board, represented Timaru in Parliament from 1908 to 1922, and later sat on the Legislative Council.
Timaru, 1902, Timaru, by Melvin Vaniman. Purchased 2024. Te Papa (O.051719)
Craigie’s influence is still visible across the city. Drive down our highway past the Bascilla and you will see the oak-lined avenue leading to the hospital, the statue of Robert Burns inside the Botanic Gardens entry, and the town clock chimes he donated. Looking at what he achieved and prioritiesed, I think he believed civic beauty was a public duty — that art, music, knowledge, and trees could lift the spirit of a place as much as roads or trade. And it was a mix of the two that would make our District and wider region a place to raise families, work, play and own a business.
Across New Zealand in the early 1900s, towns and cities embraced the philosophy of place making and civic beauty through Beautifying Societies, Women’s Civic Leagues, and garden-city planning movements. These groups worked with councils to plant trees, establish gardens, and promote tidiness and pride in public spaces. Cities like Timaru, Christchurch, Dunedin, and Auckland had very active beautifying societies from around 1897 onwards, inspired by similar efforts in Britain and the United States. Christchurch, for instance, became known as “the Garden City” partly through this movement.
We all know and value the work of Timaru's Beautifying Society, along with groups such as the Women’s Civic League and local garden clubs, like the Dead Headers Society (who gave 7000 plus hours to contrubute to the care for the bay's rose garden), helped shape parks, memorials, and street plantings. The ideas locally reflected this nationwide ethos that beauty in public life contributed to moral improvement, good citizenship, and community well-being.
Craigie’s leadership combined business pragmatism with a belief in culture and aesthetics and I don't think he saw contradiction between commerce and kindness. But I often wonder if that belief came easily. Did he ever leave a council meeting frustrated by short-sightedness or cost concerns? Did he feel unappreciated by those who couldn’t yet see what he saw?
He gave generously, but generosity is sometimes met with suspicion in a culture wary of “showing off.” Maybe that’s why he built for others. His antidote to envy was legacy — to plant trees and leave beauty where cynicism couldn’t reach.
His stone face overlooks the old Timaru Library that now forms the facade of the Timaru District Council. As well as putting his own money into the good of the town, the library is a great example of building a legacy with leadership and finding support from others to help him achieve it. Craigie arranged a donation from the international giver Andrew Carnegie to build the library.
The idea that civic beauty is a public duty I think still exists today, though it has and is evolving. Communities today express it through caring for shared spaces, valuing sustainability, inclusiveness, and heritage. Instead of just tidiness or ornament, civic beauty now means creating places that reflect local identity, tell community stories, and promote well-being.
Cragies chimes were in the tall post office tower, and then moved over the road to the Council Chambers. Photo: Timaru, New Zealand, 1912, Timaru, by Muir & Moodie. Purchased 1998 with New Zealand Lottery Grants Board funds. Te Papa (PS.001029)
Today I with my children enjoy visits to the Timaru's District Council's Aigantighe Art Gallery. Cragie was also a founding member and chair of the South Canterbury Arts Society, and his with the groups gifts, form the nucleolus of the art collection our locals and visitors enjoy today.
When he died in 1935, the Timaru Herald described him as “a friend of progress”. A man who had “given freely of his time and means for the good of the town he loved.” Craigie had an impressive obituary, that demonstrated what one person can achieve through leadership, inpiration and team work.
A Statue of Burns; The Unveiling Ceremony at the Timaru Botanic Gardens in May 1913. Aoraki Heritage Collection, accessed 03/10/2025, https://aorakiheritage.recollect.co.nz/nodes/view/44
First elected council of greater Timaru, 1911
Muriel Hilton – The Groundbreaker
Muriel Ernesta Hilton (née Venn) was born in Dunedin on 19 March 1904 to Ernest and Ann Venn, and later moved to Timaru, the city that would become her lifelong home. She attended South School and Timaru Technical College, leaving at 14 and developing a lifelong passion for learning. In 1922 she married Frederick Alfred Hilton, and together they built a life rooted in community service and education.
Her public life began through adult education. First in the Workers’ Educational Association and then as president of the South Canterbury Council for Adult Education for nearly two decades. She represented Canterbury University on the National Council for Adult Education and believed that “there is adventure in making contact with other minds.”
When her husband retired from local office, Muriel joked that she might take his place, and she did. In 1950, she became the first woman elected to the Timaru City Council. Three years later, she was Deputy Mayor, and by 1959, she was elected Mayor of Timaru, becoming the first woman to lead a New Zealand city. She served as mayor until 1962 and then again as a councillor from 1965 to 1968.
During her decade in local politics serving on the council, she helped oversee library upgrades, park developments, and early support for the tepid pool at Māori Park. She publicly recognised groups such as the Women’s Christian Temperance Union for their contribution to social progress and was the first woman elected to the executive of the New Zealand Municipal Association.
Her leadership was pobably practical, focused, and calm. And I think she would have believed in efficient governance but also in civic wellbeing — libraries, housing, recreation, and access to education. I don't think she sought fame; she sought function. And I wonder what her tenure was like in the 1960s when women were still pushing the doors open for equality and opportunity of other women to to be able to walk through.
When she retired in 1974, she had served on the council and the Electric Power Board for more than two decades. She was appointed an MBE in 1976 for public service, later enjoying a peaceful country retirement near Waimate. She passed away in 1999 at the age of 95.
Many locals don’t realise that Hilton Highway (the stretch of State Highway 1 that leads into Timaru from the north) is named after her. Her portrait, held by the South Canterbury Museum, shows a woman of composure and strength. She was a trailblazer because she led in her own way and proved that competence and care can carry the same authority as command. I would love to know more about who she was and her leadership style, and how she governed.
Stafford Street, looking up, 1904, Timaru, by Muir & Moodie. Purchased 1998 with New Zealand Lottery Grants Board funds. Te Papa (PS.001032)
Two Different Timaru's
Craigie and Hilton led in very different times, and in many ways, in two different Timarus.
Craigie, with his proud Scottish roots, brought an immigrant’s vision and ambition. Hilton, likely of English ancestry, carried a steadier post-war pragmatism — two heritages that, together, reflect the balance of spirit and service that shaped Timaru itself.
When Craigie was mayor in the early 1900s, Timaru was a booming port town in an age of optimism and expansion. At the time our region was known as the countries food bowl. Our port connected everyone to local markets and Timaru was the hub for exchange. Ships lined the wharves, new industries grew, and civic leaders were expected to build monuments to progress and to entice people to move here and put down their roots.
I think Craigie’s leadership reflected that energy, he must have been confident, ambitious. And I wonder if he may have felt exhilaration and pride, but also frustration with short horizons and the weight of expectation. Quick wins and longer strategy to get things done and to do them well.
By the 1950s, Muriel Hilton’s Timaru was a post-war city. Timaru was suburban, educated, and reshaping itself for a new generation. Her challenges were probably less about expansion and more about inclusion: housing, libraries, swimming pools, and public services for families rebuilding their lives. I wonder if she led not from authority, but from empathy — steady, careful, and persuasive.
If Craigie’s leadership embodied vision and visibility, Hilton’s embodied patience and participation. His Timaru was still finding its voice; hers was learning to listen.
Either way, how ever it was back in the day, both were navigating eras of change. Both must have felt moments of loneliness, carrying their convictions in the face of hesitation or doubt. And yet both chose to keep building — through oak trees, education and trust.
I wonder if they were told not to get too big for their boots, or questioned “Who do you think you are?”.
Stafford St. 1941. Photographer New Zealand Herald W B Beattie. 'Sir George Grey Special Collections, Auckland Libraries, 1370-464-02' when re-using this image. Hay's Building to the right. Learn more
What We Can’t Know — and What We Can Learn
I never met these people.
All I have are obituaries, photographs, and the fragments of their legacy to judge them by.
So I’m left to wonder who they really were — what they believed, why they did what they did, how they faced their critics, and what private doubts they hid behind public smiles. Did they feel like tall poppies, and did others purposely or unknowingly chop them down.
Did they, too, feel unvalued at times? Did they ever question if the effort was worth it?
And if they did, what helped them rise above it... conviction, compassion, stubborn hope?
We can only imagine.
The not so glamorous side of civic leadership... water and sewer. While many councillors and mayors have exciting ideas, the reality is 70% of council functions are not that glamorous, but super costly and essential. This photo depicts the Timaru Drainage Works. Changing Shifts South Canterbury Museum.
The Values That Endure
When I think about both mayors and their very different eras, and the challenges they must have faced... I keep going back to the values that make a good leader:
Integrity.
Kindness.
Courage to act when it would be easier to stay silent.
Humility that keeps ambition grounded.
Patience to listen, even when others don’t.
And hope — the steady kind that outlasts recognition and looks out to the future.
I wonder if they ever felt lonely living those values.
Leadership often asks you to stand in the gap between what is and what could be — and that gap can be a solitary place.
Perhaps they found comfort, as many leaders do, in believing that even if others didn’t yet see the vision, they would one day walk in it.
Many Ways to Lead
There isn’t just one way to be a good leader. There are many styles. Some have excelled, and others you could say couldn't be effective when they wanted to.
James Craigie led with imagination — through gestures that lifted the spirit and shaped the skyline.
Muriel Hilton led with empathy — through service, listening, and the quiet authority that earns trust.
One built monuments and melodies; the other built confidence and inclusion, and both mattered.
Leadership wears many faces — some loud and visionary, others calm and collaborative.
Some lead from the front; others create space for others to shine.
What matters most isn’t style but substance: the intention behind it.
And maybe that’s why leadership can feel lonely — because it’s rarely about being followed. It’s about holding space for others until they’re ready to walk beside you.
Tall poppy syndrom in the workplace
Tall poppy syndrome is real and measurable. Anna Dediu’s 2015 master’s thesis at the University of Canterbury, Tall Poppy Syndrome and its effect on work performance, explored how workplace attitudes toward high achievers influence behaviour and performance.
Her study found that when success is resented rather than valued, people are less likely to seek advice or collaborate, more likely to delay decisions, and tend to provide lower-quality internal service. By contrast, those with a strong personal drive for achievement performed better across creativity, problem-solving, and service quality.
The research surveyed 229 full-time New Zealand employees across a range of industries using an online questionnaire. Statistical analysis confirmed links between negative tall poppy attitudes and reduced decision-making dependability and service quality.
Dediu concluded that tall poppy syndrome is deeply rooted in New Zealand’s culture — the downside of values like modesty and equality. While these qualities are admired, they can discourage ambition and make people reluctant to stand out. Awareness and open discussion, she suggested, are essential for creating more supportive and high-performing workplaces.
https://ir.canterbury.ac.nz/server/api/core/bitstreams
The culture behind cutting down success
Australia and New Zealand’s “tall poppy syndrome” reflects a deep cultural tension between ambition and equality. As Professors Nick Haslam and Milad Haghani explain, the idea dates back to Tarquin the Proud, who cut down the tallest flowers to symbolise the downfall of those who rise too high. Today, “tall poppies” — high achievers in business, sport, or public life — are often criticised rather than celebrated.
Research shows that this cultural habit discourages innovation, with many entrepreneurs and athletes choosing to hide or downplay their success to avoid backlash. While the syndrome is strong in Australasia, similar attitudes appear elsewhere: Japan’s “nail that sticks out gets hammered down” stresses conformity, and Scandinavia’s “Law of Jante” promotes equality by discouraging superiority. In contrast, the United States embraces ambition and rewards standing out.
Haslam and Haghani argue that while tall poppy syndrome can stifle creativity and leadership, its roots in fairness and humility are also valuable. The goal, they suggest, is not to “cure” it entirely, but to find balance — encouraging people to grow tall while still valuing equality and respect for others.
Balancing ambition and equality
Another perspective from University of Melbourne researchers Nick Haslam and Milad Haghani highlights tall poppy syndrome as a defining feature of Australian and New Zealand culture — one that reveals the tension between individual success and social equality. They note that while tall poppies are sometimes celebrated, more often they are criticised for ambition or confidence perceived as arrogance. This pattern, deeply rooted in the region’s egalitarian values, can discourage risk-taking and innovation, as seen among entrepreneurs and athletes who report hiding their achievements to avoid backlash. Yet, Haslam and Haghani argue that the impulse to “cut down” success is not unique to Australasia, drawing parallels with Japan’s conformity-driven proverb “the nail that sticks out gets hammered down” and Scandinavia’s equality-focused “Law of Jante.” They conclude that while tall poppy syndrome can limit creativity and leadership, eradicating it entirely might undermine the fairness and humility central to these societies — making balance, rather than cure, the ideal goal.
https://findanexpert.unimelb.edu.au/news/101976-australia-and-new-zealand-are-plagued-by-%E2%80%98tall-poppy-syndrome%E2%80%99.-but-would-a-cure-be-worse-than-the-disease%3F
The human cost of being “cut down”
Research from Otago Polytechnic’s Dr Jo Kirkwood and the University of Auckland’s Professor Rod McNaughton reveals that tall poppy syndrome has serious consequences for New Zealand entrepreneurs’ wellbeing. Their 2022 study, involving nearly 300 participants, found that most cutting remarks about success come not from anonymous online critics, but from colleagues in face-to-face conversations. Many reported that this social criticism led to self-doubt, anxiety, depression, and even thoughts of suicide, while others said it drove them to abandon opportunities or leave the country altogether. McNaughton notes that while these findings are troubling, they also offer hope — because if the problem begins in everyday interactions, it can also be changed there. He advocates for a cultural shift in how success is discussed and perceived, urging New Zealanders to celebrate achievement collectively rather than resent it. The researchers warn that tall poppy syndrome doesn’t just harm individuals — it undermines innovation, mental health, and the nation’s economic and social wellbeing.
Calling It Out, and Calling Each Other Up
This isn’t about politics or parties — it’s about people, and how we treat one another.
In New Zealand, we often talk about “tall poppy syndrome.” It’s that quiet cultural instinct to cut down anyone who stands out — a habit born, perhaps, from our colonial beginnings when equality was prized and hierarchy distrusted. Over time, that spirit of fairness blurred into something else: a suspicion of success, a discomfort with ambition, a fear that celebrating someone else might somehow diminish ourselves.
It’s rarely deliberate. It happens in small ways — an eye-roll, a silence, a joke. But every time we do it, we make it a little harder for good people to stand tall.
Tall poppy culture thrives where appreciation is scarce and humility is misunderstood. But its antidote isn’t arrogance — it’s generosity. When we learn to lift others, we grow taller together.
Maybe it starts with noticing our own reflexes.
If we catch ourselves cutting someone down, can we pause and ask why?
And when we see someone else doing it, can we call it out — kindly, firmly — and say, “Let’s lift instead”?
Because what do we all really want?
To be seen.
To be valued.
To feel that what we give matters.
And how do we all get that?
By giving it to each other first.
The oak trees established within a significant road reserve were gifted by Craigie, leading to the well known name of Craigie Avenue. His descendants planted a tree in his honour in here at Easter, 1994.
Growing a Field, Not a Single Flower
Craigie planted oaks for strangers he’d never meet.
Hilton opened doors for women she’d never known.
Both believed in something larger than themselves — and their gifts still shade and guide us today.
Perhaps that’s what leadership really is:
not standing above others, but standing for them.
Not seeking praise, but sowing possibility.
And trusting that if we all tend to one another’s growth, there will be no need to cut anyone down — because we’ll all be standing tall together.
My reflection. This reflection was written from a place of curiosity and care. I never met these mayors, but through their legacies I find myself wondering about what leadership feels like — then and now — and how we, as a community, can nurture those who give of themselves for the good of us all.
By reflecting on the mayors who have gone before us, I’ve come to see that leadership isn’t about titles, recognition, or standing above others. It’s about courage, care, and thoughtful determination. Both mayors have shown me that true leadership begins with purpose, a "why": caring for people, creating beauty in our community, and leaving things better for those who come after us.
I can relate, like many of you, to the feelings of being a tall poppy, standing out, sometimes being misunderstood, and feeling the sting when others try to cut you down. The idea comes from an old story where the tallest poppies were struck down to make the field even, a reminder of how societies sometimes value modesty so much that they discourage excellence. I find the conversations interesting when I talk to emmigrants to In New Zealand who ask about this part of our cultre, and I try my best to explain why this happens our culture, and that I think its probably a mix of fairness and humility that can sometimes make us hide our shine.
Through learning from those who led before me, I now understand that being a tall poppy isn’t about standing above others; it’s about standing up for what matters, staying grounded in who we are, and helping others grow too. My friend once shared her saying - dont be a mana muncher, share the credit and help people feel seen and celebrated, give them their moment to hold their mana. It's become one of my daily goals to live by, and hen others try to chop us down, we stay rooted in kindness, courage, and purpose — turning criticism into compost and using it to grow stronger, not smaller.
If I could speak to my younger self, I’d say this:
Don’t shrink to make others comfortable. You are who you are, and your light isn’t too bright — it’s meant to guide, to warm, and to grow things around you. When people try to cut you down, remember: their words are not your roots. Stay grounded in kindness, curiosity, and courage. Keep creating, keep caring, and keep showing up, even when it’s feels hard.
The things that make you different are not flaws; they’re potential for purpose, like a seed. One day you’ll see that standing tall isn’t about being the tallest poppy in the field, it’s can be about helping the whole garden bloom.
Reflection on Redefining Success in Context with Tall Poppy Syndrome
Success is always changing. It grows and shifts as we do. What matters to us, and why we’re inspired or motivated, evolves through different seasons of life. There have been times when I’ve had the energy and drive to take on the extras, to stretch myself further.
At other times, I’ve experienced the effects of tall poppy syndrome — moments where standing out has felt uncomfortable or even isolating. It’s been challenging to recognise, understand, and decide how to respond to that tension between wanting to achieve and be helpful and wanting to belong. Over time, these experiences have reshaped how I define success: less about visibility or external recognition, and more about staying true to purpose, contributing meaningfully, and finding balance between ambition and humility.
I wish I could have been able to learn some of this earlier. If I could tell my younger self...
Not to shrink just because someone else feels uncomfortable with your growth. Standing tall doesn’t mean you think you’re better than others — it means you’re honouring the effort, courage, and care you’ve poured into what you do. You don’t have to dim your light to make others feel at ease; you just have to shine in a way that also helps others find their own light. When criticism stings, remember it often says more about others’ fears or state of mind than your worth. Stay kind, stay grounded, but don’t apologise for having something to offer. Success isn’t something to hide — it can be something to share.
before you reach for the shears, pause. Ask yourself what it is you’re really cutting down — is it someone’s success, or their courage to try? Is it about my own ego? Every tall poppy began as a small seed, nurtured by effort, failure, and persistence. When you cut someone down for standing out, remember that by doing this, you are not protecting the garden. You’re can limit its potential to grow, bloom and regenerate for seasons.
Instead of chopping, try cheering. Celebrate the people who dare to dream, create, and lead. Their growth doesn’t diminish yours — it makes the whole field stronger and more vibrant.
Remember a healthy garden needs variety, sunlight, and space to thrive. When we lift each other up instead of trimming each other down, we create a community where everyone can bloom in their own season.
Catherine died on 7 December 1944 in Kingsdown, Canterbury aged 91. James died on 17 August 1935 in Kingsdown, Canterbury, New Zealand, aged 83. James Craigie died at his home Craigilea in Kingsdown, South Canterbury on 17 August 1935 due to “heart weakness”. He is buried in the Craigie Family Plot in Timaru Cemetery.
Timaru Stafford Street - Photo Roselyn Fauth 2023
Looking along Stafford Street, Timaru showing (on right) the Empire Hotel, with advertisement for Speight's Beer, boxing show and taxi stand outside; England McRae Ltd - ironmongers; P W Hutton and Co (by advertisement for Onoto Pens) - bookshop. On the left is the Crown Hotel, with motorcycle and sidecar parked outside. Auckland Libraries Heritage Collections 35-R1477
Corner of Stafford and Church Street, Timaru - Photography By Roselyn Fauth 2025