If I were still a member of the Labour Party I would be feeling a little concerned after this week’s Colmar Brunton public opinion poll. Not because the poll suggested Labour is going to lose office any time soon – it did not – nor because it showed other parties doing better – they are not – but more because it builds on the trend of other recent polls of consistently ebbing support for the Labour Party. 

The most worrying thing for Labour about this poll is that it takes the party back to almost where it was in the public standing before the advent of Covid19 nearly eighteen months ago. At that time, Labour looked as though it would have a real fight on its hands to retain office at the 2020 election, no matter the fate of its support partners. Of course, Covid19 changed all that and Labour went on to win a stunning victory on its own, on the back of its handling of the Covid19 response last year. 

However, this week’s poll confirms the trend of recent polls that that surge in Labour’s Covid19 support last year has now evaporated. Moreover, unlike last year, not only was there no boost in Labour’s support during the recent Level 4 lockdown, but it actually declined a few percent in that time. As well, the Prime Minister’s personal support – so critical a factor in Labour’s 2017 and 2020 election successes – is also falling. While she still remains more popular than her party (just) her personal support is now falling at a faster rate than her party’s is, despite (or maybe because of) her daily sermons to the nation.   

Now we all know polls are but snapshots in time and that it is unwise to become too fixated on their individual numbers. It is more the trend that matters. On that basis, Labour’s halcyon days of last year are well and truly over. 

The lockdowns and other measures that contributed so much to Labour’s 2020 election success are no longer as popular with voters. In fact, their continuation is now costing the party public support. And, with mounting criticism of the MIQ system and frustration at the slow pace of our reintegration into the world, that support will track further downwards over the period ahead. That in turn will increase the focus on the Greens – largely forgotten since the election – to retain and build their support, because their fortunes will become increasingly critical to Labour’s prospects of leading a government after the next election. 

Worse for Labour, it does not yet have a stellar record of achievement in other key policy areas to bolster its flagging support. The housing crisis is worse than ever, with house prices rising around 60% since Labour came to office. Shortages of construction materials and labour brought on by Covid19 uncertainties have exacerbated the problem and seem likely to slow the rate of new home construction for some time. Likewise, Covid19 has made addressing social inequality that much more difficult, and poverty rates remain high. Even climate change policy has stalled – despite it still being proclaimed as this government’s “nuclear free moment”. 

None of that is likely to turn around any time soon, meaning that Labour has reached its high tide in public support. The burgeoning question now for Labour is how far that tide is likely to run out over the coming two years before the next election. Given the amount it has already borrowed as part of its Covid19 response, the options for significantly further boosting public spending are low, meaning Labour has few other options left than working its way through things as they stand. Given that, retaining even current levels of public support, let alone increasing them, will become a major challenge over the next couple of years. 

However, the situation is not quite as simple or inevitable as it may appear. The steady decline in Labour’s fortunes, making it nigh inevitable that it will need to rely far more heavily on the Greens than it has done since 2017 to obtain the minimum 48% share of the party vote needed to remain in government, does not of itself mean that a change of government is imminent or even likely. 

The National/ACT bloc remains well short of the numbers required to form a government. At the same time, the group of voters who will not state their preference, or support parties not represented in Parliament, or do not vote at all, is remaining relatively constant at around 8-10 percent. What seems to be happening at present is that National and ACT are reshuffling support between themselves rather than growing their share of the cake from the last election. 

But, even if the National/ACT bloc can boost its overall support to the levels needed to form a government, problems remain. Current trends show a narrowing of the gap between National and ACT, meaning that any future government they may form is likely to be very evenly split between National and ACT members. Potentially, that would make the dynamics of coalition management more difficult than in a situation where one party is more dominant. Middle ground National supporters could find the more extreme parts of its agenda a resurgent ACT would insist on pursuing difficult to swallow, while ACT supporters would expect far more of their agenda to be adopted than National would ever find tolerable. 

Overall, the message from recent polls is that we are quickly returning to a politics as usual situation. The days of the Covid19 political dividend are over, even while its social and economic influences remain. The more traditional divides and expectations of New Zealand politics are being restored, making 2023 a likely vastly different political landscape from last year. 

Now all that is needed is the sensible moderator to make it work effectively. 

 

 

This week’s announcement that the introduction of the government’s proposed “ute” tax is being delayed by three months until 1 April next year will have been welcomed in many quarters. Those who joined the recent Groundswell protests will see it as vindication of their efforts and a sign that the government has listened to what they had to say. They will be encouraged to believe that their “Howl of a Protest” in July pushed the government this far, and that their “Mother of all Protests” planned for November will finish off the job, and lead to the “ute” tax being abandoned altogether. 

They are almost certain to be disappointed. The government’s decision had little to do with their protests and much more to do with the impact the Covid19 pandemic is having across every area of government activity. It is one of many planned government initiatives, often far away from any direct connection with the management of the virus, that are being postponed or delayed indefinitely, because of Covid19. In some cases, this is occurring because of a direct transfer of resources into the pandemic response, while in other cases, the virus is being used as a convenient bureaucratic excuse to delay work and projects that might otherwise be awkward or unpopular. 

But the impact is undeniable. Slowly but surely, the pandemic is strangling the process of government. And it is set to continue to do so for some foreseeable time yet. As the extent to which the government can borrow offshore to fund recovery programmes diminishes, and the capacity to recruit quality staff reduces because of ongoing border restrictions the pressure on existing resources in the public and private sectors will intensify. More government programmes, large and small, significant and not so, will be either squeezed, delayed or dropped to meet the demands imposed by the pandemic. 

Last week, the government announced that its flagship Climate Change Reduction Plan, which has already been the subject of so much debate and consultation, has been postponed by five months. The official explanation is that this is because the new timing better aligns the plan with the government’s 2022 Budget round. But this excuse is somewhat hard to swallow. Climate change has been a dominant part of all governments’ activities since the Clark Labour-led government first implemented an emissions trading scheme well over a decade ago. A considerable amount of work has already been undertaken by successive governments of which the Climate Change Reduction Plan is the culmination. What the delay decision really means is that the government no longer has the resources available this financial year to proceed with implementing the plan according to the timetable originally intended. 

The significance of this should not be under-estimated, especially with the international Glasgow Climate change conference looming. New Zealand was already about two months late in reporting its climate change response intentions to the United Nations even before this additional delay of the Climate Change Reduction Plan until next May was made public. Sadly, taken together, these delays will weaken considerably any moral authority we might have been seeking to display and exercise in Glasgow, which must be a bitter pill for the Climate Change Minister and his delegation to have to swallow on the international stage. 

Elsewhere, with house prices continuing to soar, social deprivation on the rise, and health and social inequities between Māori and Pakeha still pronounced in some areas, the government’s energy for reform has been similarly sapped by the exigencies of dealing with Covid19. Even the review of the role of the government’s drug buying agency, PHARMAC, has been stalled. It further deepens the mystery of why PHARMAC has been so shut out of any role in negotiating the purchase of the Covid19 vaccinations the country needs.  

Yet to some extent, it could be argued that all this represents nothing more than the normal ebb and flow of being in government and that the art of government has always been about determining the attention to be paid to competing priorities. According to this argument, governments have always had to cut their cloth according to the pressures of the time, and that what is happening now is really no different, albeit somewhat more challenging, than the norm. 

However, while elements of that do apply in the current pandemic response, the overall situation is different – simply because of the scale of Covid19’s impact – from previous situations. Even comparisons to World War II are misleading. During World War II large sections of the domestic economy were turned over to munitions and food production that produced an economic and employment benefit, whereas the Covid19 response so far has relied more on government support payments for individuals and businesses whose capacity to produce and earn has been disrupted or stopped altogether by the virus. It has been more focused on retaining what we have, than expanding the economy because of new opportunities created by the pandemic. 

There are no easy answers in this. People rightly expect the government to do what it can to protect the public health from the ravages of the virus and to make sure it has the necessary financial and other resources available to do so effectively. But they also expect that the other issues they care about – climate change most obviously, but not exclusively – will not be lost sight of in the process. It is a difficult balancing act, and the government has few precedents to draw upon as it sets out to achieve it. 

Therefore, in the meantime, more short-term deferrals like the “ute” tax and the Climate Change Reduction Plan seem on the cards. There will come a point, though, when either the public becomes tired of the Covid19 excuse, or the other issues become so pressing in the public mind that they cannot be delayed or put to one side any longer. And the much wider question, far more difficult to resolve at this point, is what our society will look like then, and what the impact will be on generations whose futures and prospects are being shaped by the decisions made today.

 

Te Paati Māori continues to provide a breath of fresh air in the political space, otherwise thoroughly choked by Covid19. Its call this week this week for a referendum on changing the country’s name to Aotearoa by 2026 is timely and a welcome diversion to the necessarily short-term focus engendered by Covid19. 

It has always seemed incongruous that our country bears the name bestowed upon it by a Dutch explorer who spent less than three weeks off our shores without ever landing here 479 years ago. While there might arguably be a legitimate debate about whether “naming rights” for our country should have rested with the indigenous people here at the time Abel Tasman skirted our shores, or with the British colonisers who arrived nearly two hundred years later, it is increasingly difficult to argue that Tasman’s choice has a great deal of relevance to our country as it is today. 

Therefore, the proposal of a referendum to decide the future name of the country should be welcomed. It will hopefully set off a full public debate about the nature of our country today and its ongoing national identity – something various Prime Ministers have said for years has been inevitable, but which none has had the courage to initiate. 

However, changing the name of the country is not without its challenges, not the least of which is the national flag. On the assumption we do vote to change our country’s name, the incongruity of still having a national flag containing the British Union Jack would become even greater than it is today. So, either alongside the national name change debate, or shortly thereafter, assuming a vote for change, there would need to be a fresh discussion about the design of the national flag. Following the unsatisfactory (in terms of process and design) referendum about changing the flag in 2016, there are many lessons to be learned about how such a process could be better streamlined and structured that would need to be followed here. 

While changing the name of the country is an idea whose time may well have come, which could receive surprisingly strong support at a referendum, the second part of Te Paati Māori’s proposal to replace all European town, city and district names with their Māori antecedents looks more problematic and potentially divisive. Many of those names date from our colonial history in some way or another – either as the name of settlements that did not exist beforehand, or place names that were bestowed by Captain Cook during his voyage of discovery. 

Given that the Treaty of Waitangi was intended to usher in a relationship of partnership between tangata whenua and the new settlers, something we are still getting to grips with over 180 years later, that partnership needs to be reflected in the place names we adopt. In many cases, the appropriate place name from a traditional and historical significance aspect one will be the traditional Māori name, and we should have little hesitation in adopting that. But there will be other situations where the same reasons will apply in reverse and the retention of the European name will be the more appropriate course to follow. In other words, any alterations to the names of cities, towns and districts should be on a case-by-case basis, reflective of local circumstances and not imposed by a national referendum. 

While Te Paati Māori’s claim that doing things this way, and not by a blanket national referendum would lessen the likelihood of any local change ever occurring has some merit, a blanket imposition of change at a local level is likely to cause unnecessary division and upheaval that would detract from the overall push Te Paati Māori is making. That would be a great shame and diminish the rare opportunity being provided here to have a say about our nationhood. Therefore, an intermediate position may be in order, allowing Māori and European place names to be used and recognised alongside each other, until a preferred usage emerges in each case over time. 

For my own part, as a third-generation citizen of Irish descent, I would be proud to say my country is Aotearoa. As Norman Kirk once said, all of us who live here, whatever our origins, bear the unique and common bond of calling these islands home. The mix of cultures, backgrounds and experiences, and the people that breeds, is unique and something for us to celebrate the world over. What better way to do that than proclaiming our place as citizens and residents of Aotearoa? 

So, hats off to Te Paati Māori for initiating this debate. While there will be passionate views on all sides, the challenge to our national character will be to proceed without bigotry, intolerance and division overshadowing what is an important issue for the future of our country. Te Paati Māori has shown courage and commitment, but also a respect for tradition, in launching the referendum proposal. The challenge now for the rest of the country is to show the same courage and respect in considering the important issues it has raised.

         

 

I began my working career, straight out of university, in the old Department of Trade and Industry, in the division that looked after import licensing.  In those days, any business wishing to import goods had to first obtain an import licence from the government. Very junior officials, like me at that time, were making major decisions about the raw materials and consumer products businesses were allowed to import. We were supposed to be following the policies set out in the government’s annual Import Licensing Schedule, but really we were guided by officials’ sketchy judgement of whether such goods were actually necessary or whether there were already alternatives available in New Zealand. 

Our superiors had little more real-world experience than we did. Most of them had joined the public service straight from school and were focused on seeing out their forty years’ service before they could claim their pension. Over the intervening years, punctuated for some by war service, they had risen to the lofty heights of the lower middle management positions they held when I joined. 

They resented the younger more educated graduates now working for them. (I remember once using the phrase “we face difficult economic challenges” in a draft Cabinet paper, only to have one of my superiors cross it out and replace it with “because we are in tight times” which he said sounded less academic.) They overcame their shortcomings and resentments through the exercise of petty power, so ran the system as though it was their own personal fiefdom. The consequence was inefficiency, inconsistency, and low-level corruption. Yet their influence was pervasive – when one of them was put on trial for corruption, the case had to be abandoned because, despite three attempts, it proved impossible to select a jury of people who did not know him. 

When I joined the Department, I was a committed protectionist, believing that controlling imports the way we were was the right thing for New Zealand. But after a few months of seeing the system at work and having on an almost weekly basis visits from senior business leaders begging the likes of this fresh-faced official for import licences so they could carry on or expand their businesses, I realised its folly and became the ardent supporter of free trade and open markets I remain today. 

One of my earliest pleasures in politics came less than a decade later when as the Parliamentary Under-Secretary for Trade and Industry I was part of abolishing the old import licensing system once and for all. Import licensing, which had first been introduced in 1936 by the first Labour Government as a foreign exchange control measure during the Depression, and the bureaucratic practices that went with it, had well and truly served their purpose just on fifty years later! 

I was reminded of all this again when I saw advice from the Ministry of Business Innovation and Employment (MBIE) – the modern version of the old Department of Trade and Industry – about how businesses can operate during the current Covid19 lockdowns. In language too eerily reminiscent of the import licensing days MBIE has said that construction sector manufacturers will need a high degree of evidence before they can be permitted to resume production. They have gone on to say, “This may include evidence of how the building products are a critical component of residential construction, evidence of there being limited building product supply in New Zealand, and evidence of health and safety measures in place to minimise the risk of Covid19 transmission.” 

The thought that major building and construction industry players are having to go cap in hand to junior officials in MBIE to plead their case to be allowed to resume business seems like import licensing all over again. The sole concern here should be whether it is safe for a business to reopen in a Covid19 environment. There should be nothing more to it than that. 

It is most certainly not for MBIE to decide whether this product or that is necessary or desirable. Junior government officials, often with little life experience, making major decisions about when and how significant businesses can operate seems just as ludicrous now as it was when I was doing import licensing. And it will surely prove to be just as an inept and uneven approach. The best people to understand business conditions and the demand for specialist goods and services are those involved in the businesses themselves, not an official with no direct business experience sitting behind a desk in Wellington, or, now more likely, working comfortably from home. 

One of the major reasons for import licensing’s ultimate failure was that the assumption and practices which underpinned its administration fell out of step and way behind current business practice of the day. Yesterday’s solutions were no longer fit for purpose for dealing with today’s challenges. Yet setting up a business continuity licensing regime, which is effectively what is occurring at present, run by faceless officials with no practical experience is the modern equivalent of the failed import licensing system. 

MBIE’s approach, endorsed by Ministers, amounts to subtle re-regulation of the business sector in a way not seen since Muldoonism of the late 1970s and early 1980s. In line with the axiom, “history repeats itself”, it is likely to be just as spectacular a failure and will have eventually to be unwound and balance restored. But given that the current government seems to think that anything that happened before it came to office in 2017 is ancient history and therefore not worth taking any notice of, that is likely to be some time away. 

In the meantime, do not get your hopes up for an early start to that building project or home renovation you may have been planning post lockdown. Like Little Britain’s computer, MBIE says “no”.

 

The government’s plan to overhaul the regulatory and supply arrangements for drinking water, wastewater and stormwater – the so-called Three Waters Plan – looks to be close to dead in the water. 

The Three Waters plan, released last year through the Department of Internal Affairs, arose from a detailed review of existing arrangements commissioned by the previous government when I was Minister of Internal Affairs, following the campylobacter outbreak in Havelock North in 2016. It was estimated at the time that four people died and around 5,500 suffered illness as a result of the outbreak. The Havelock North incident not only highlighted decades of neglect locally, but also raised the wider question of what might be happening elsewhere. 

Since then, further issues with water management have arisen around the country, most notably in Wellington where ageing infrastructure has led to frequent and spectacular water main bursts, wastewater spillage and consequent public disruption. At the same time, there has been the ongoing issue of how water management regimes can best respect Māori rights and traditional interests under the Treaty of Waitangi. 

The overall picture that has emerged has been one of serious deficiencies and variability in our overall water management system. From both from an environmental and water quality perspective, there are no consistent overall quality and management, let alone co-management with iwi, systems in place.

In its response, set out in legislation nearly a year ago, the government has proposed splitting the country into four regions, and establishing stand-alone water management agencies in each region to take over the assets and responsibilities of the 67 local councils currently responsible. 

However, as might be expected, there has already been strong push-back to the government’s plans. Not surprisingly, local authorities do not take kindly to being told by central government they have to give up control and ownership of assets they have long regarded as their own, or that they believe they are managing well. Already, the Labour-aligned Mayors of Auckland and Christchurch – two of the country’s largest local authorities – have come out against the plans. They are not alone – other Mayors have been similarly outspoken. 

Yet, not unreasonably, the Minister of Local Government made the point at the time the legislation was introduced that it would only work if every local authority bought into what was being proposed. A year since the legislation was introduced and after much ongoing debate, the prospect of a uniform response seems further away than ever. But the need for a better approach to both managing water resources and ensuring ancient pipework is upgraded in a timely manner grows stronger every day. 

The government’s problem is that it does not want this matter remaining controversial and unresolved in the lead-up to next year’s local body elections. The prospect of strong support for candidates running on “hands off our water” platforms is too strong to ignore. At the same time, ratepayers are likely to become increasingly annoyed by continued burst pipes and other infrastructure failures. It is a virtual no-win situation. 

The conundrum facing the government is how, given the chilling findings of the Havelock North inquiry, it can both ensure a uniform national water quality standard is achieved and that there is a viable mechanism for local councils to regularly upgrade their infrastructure, especially given the substantial financial costs involved. The type of centralised approach set out in the current Bill before Parliament may well be the simplest and most obvious solution, but it is looking increasingly likely to be the most difficult to achieve. 

On the assumption the opposition to the Three Waters plan as it stands does not abate, the government will be forced to look to compromise solutions to achieve its objectives. These might include permitting Councils to retain the ownership and management of their water assets, but, as a trade-off, requiring their water systems to achieve a uniform national drinking water standard monitored by the Health and Environment Ministries. Alongside that, a contestable national fund could be established which Councils could draw upon to fund necessary infrastructure upgrades. 

A parallel might be the successful $100 million scheme established by the previous Labour-led government in 2005 and extended by its successor through to 2015 to help small local authorities and communities upgrade water supplies within a specified time. I oversaw that scheme for many years when I was Associate Minister of Health, and know how successful it was. However, a similar fund to assist the major local authorities would need to have billions of dollars dedicated to it to be effective. 

While the government has been right to address this critical issue, it now has to ensure that an effective and workable solution is achieved. If it cannot do this through the Three Waters plan, it cannot simply walk away and abandon the issue as too difficult. It needs to broker a deal with local government for a credible way forward. Although it may be on the point of losing the battle over Three Waters, the government cannot afford to lose the wider war on improving water services. It would not be thanked by voters were it to let that happen.