Our Country: Our Choice

Central Government in the Future

Margaret Clark*

If thinking about the future is not to degenerate into Nostradamus-like nuttiness it must be rooted in an understanding of the present and the past.

When contemplating the likely future shape of central government in New Zealand it is as well to remind ourselves that we are deeply democratic - indeed ours is one of the longest continuously democratic systems on earth. When our founding constitutional document, the Treaty of Waitangi, was signed in 1840 it was only eight years after the passage of the Great Reform Bill in the British Parliament. There was no bloody revolution in the streets of London, but the constitutional effects were as radical and irreversible. The landed aristocracy had witnessed the American War of Independence and the French Revolution just across the Channel. It took no great genius to tell which way the wind was blowing, so the franchise was lawfully extended to commoners - the first of many such extensions throughout the 19th century and into the 20th when they finally got around to including women.

The great bulk of New Zealand's European settlers came from Britain, and they left therefore a land where popular political participation in the form of the vote was already enacted. They also brought with them Victorian notions of progress and cultural superiority. Victorian science and engineering had encouraged confidence that practical problems were soluble. Although few of the settlers would have been familiar with writers such as Hobbes, Locke and Hume, nevertheless their cultural baggage included such fundamental political ideas as individual rights to liberty and property, equality before the law and due process, and freedom of speech and association. Early observers of New Zealand politics remarked upon a readiness on the part of settlers to look to government for assistance in adjusting to the rigours of life in a frontier society, and an all-pervasive egalitarianism was noted.

A young Frenchman Andre Siegfried visited us in 1899 - the mid-point of the Liberal Government's rule - and published his insights in Democracy in New Zealand. He came expecting to find a nation of robust Anglo-Saxon individualists, but instead was astonished to see that "when a colonial finds himself face to face with some difficulty it is almost always to the State that he first appeals." Siegfried decided that the myth of the vigorous, self-reliant frontiersman was "a legend to be thrown on the rubbish heap." He went on ... "As the Government is at the service of all, it is generally difficult to decline its services. Little by little it is brought to concern itself with everything." And he concluded sombrely, "The influence of the State makes itself felt up to the very doors of private life."

Nor were politicians the least bit defensive or ashamed of the intrusiveness of government. William Pember Reeves, Minister of Labour 1891 96, and subsequently New Zealand's representative in London, wrote proudly of state experiments in Australia and New Zealand, and believed where New Zealand led, other countries would follow. Sir Robert Stout, Premier from 1884 87, shared such hubris. "The Government is no longer deemed an enemy of the people, but on the contrary, it is believed to be the benign father and mother whose every care is for the people, who are not considered capable of regulating their affairs without such assistance. We appeal to the Government, whenever a social wrong is proved to exist, to redress it."

While Andre Siegfried lamented the vulgarity of many of parliament's proceedings - plus ça change - he marvelled at the almost universal enthusiasm for state activism. New Zealanders were little encumbered by privilege or class, he observed, and were generally proud of government innovations.

"They enjoy being able to smile at the timidity of old countries and to believe that they are giving them lessons. Votes for women? Why not? ... Is it a matter of old-age pensions or some other reform of the sort? The same temptation is at hand, that of out-distancing others. This strange rage for novelty lies at the inception of most of their laws." By the turn of last century the lineaments of our present central government were already clear, and they have persisted to the turn of this century.

After the passage of the New Zealand Constitution Act in 1852, New Zealand was to have an elected House of Representatives, and the first election thereto was held in 1853. Four Maori seats were established in 1867 and all male Maori were given the vote (ahead of many men in Britain, where certain property and literacy limitations still pertained). The secret ballot was introduced in 1870, and the provincial governments were abolished in 1875 making New Zealand a unitary not a federal state. In 1879 the triennial parliamentary term was introduced, and in 1893 women were given the vote. More than a hundred years ago, therefore, we had in place what essentially we have today; a fully representative central government, held accountable to the citizens by way of a general election every three years.

And yet our enthusiasm for innovation has not died and we have embarked on our first experience of electing a central government by a form of proportional representation. The Royal Commission on the Electoral System appointed by the fourth Labour Government reported in 1986, recommending the adoption of the German voting system of Mixed Member Proportional representation. At first the report seemed destined to be simply a curiosity for the delectation of political scientists. Neither of the major parties wished to depart from the first-past-the-post electoral system that had alternated them in power for fifty years. But two general elections and two referenda later - plus a series of 'accidents' by politicians - means that collectively we are now experiencing an electoral experiment of very considerable dimensions.

What will happen? I would argue that the main characteristics of our political culture are likely to persist. MMP in my view is unlikely to produce the worst outcomes its opponents fear. Similarly it is unlikely to be the all-soothing balm its most enthusiastic proponents promised.

One of the most interesting writers to date on the likely outcomes of MMP is Richard Mulgan, because he was the only political scientist to serve on the Royal Commission which advocated the change.

Writing in a book edited by Gary Hawke and published by the Institute of Policy Studies - Changing Politics? The Electoral Referendum 1993 - Mulgan argues that one can summarise New Zealand's political culture (and the expectations New Zealanders have of central government) under three headings - the active state, the fair state, and the accessible state.

The active state gave us roads and bridges, railways and the electricity and telephone systems. It gave us Julius Vogel's and Robert Muldoon's versions of 'Think Big.' It had the state in banking, marketing, and a variety of commercial activities more commonly left to the private sector elsewhere. The active state was also heavily engaged in industrial relations, and in trade relations through manipulation of import licences and tariffs.

The fair state sought to equalise opportunities for its citizens. The provision of publicly funded schools, universities and hospitals were manifestations of the fair state. Welfare benefits of a variety of kinds were intended to buttress social egalitarianism, and the needs of the young and the old were thought to be particularly worthy of government support.

The accessible state made members of parliament responsive to the needs of their electorate. Members of parliament deemed it their duty to list their home phone numbers in the directory and to be at the beck and call of constituents without complaint. Keith Holyoake embodied the accessible state for many when he walked from his home in Pipitea Street to Parliament each day and delighted in being accosted by voters with their problems.

Time for a change?

From 1984, it can be argued, New Zealanders felt that their state became less active, less fair and less accessible. This perception fuelled the vote for electoral reform. Public regard for politicians had eroded. Politicians did not want MMP. Therefore 'let them have it' was the sentiment.

The fourth Labour government gave the voters economic policies they had not bargained on. When the electorate voted decisively for change in 1990 they were instead served more of the same market liberalisation mix. Academics wrote of "an elective dictatorship", and the average voter felt disempowered. Choosing MMP was intended to change all this, but how much change will MMP bring?

Four of my colleagues (Boston, Levine, McLeay and Roberts) have addressed this question in a recently published book New Zealand Under MMP: A New Politics? Like me they believe that the effects of the change in our electoral system "will not be as damaging as its detractors fear nor as wonderful as it proponents promise." They think that only four or five parties are likely to achieve long term representation, and that the politics of our governments for the foreseeable future are likely to be centrist. Under these circumstances the pattern of our policymaking is far more likely to be incremental than radical.

The first and already most obvious area of change is the pattern of political parties. They have proliferated before our eyes, and members of parliament have party-hopped in search of safer perches. It has been unsettling - if not destabilising - and it may make good spectator sport for some time to come. Single-cause zealots were always sure to see MMP as a window of opportunity to draw attention to themselves. Writing sixty years ago George Orwell lamented that politics attracted lunatics "like blue-bottles to a dead cat: every fruit-juice drinker, nudist, sandal-wearer, sex maniac, quack, pacifist and feminist." One might modify the list a bit, but in the short run that's going to be the flavour of our new politics.

Things will of course shake down, and let's hope the shaking-down process isn't too protracted. Setting aside single-issue groups, the pattern of politics will focus in the future, as in the past, on what proportion of the nation's wealth we want the government to take from us by way of taxes, and what we want them to do with those taxes once they've collected them. We shall evolve 'more tax', 'less tax' and 'about the same tax' groupings or parties. Of that, as of little else, I am certain.

In post-MMP as in pre-MMP politics there will of course be charismatic figures able to attract voters by force of personality rather than reason. Those who opposed MMP as endangering the stability and coherence of government might be soothed by some learned words in Changing Politics from Barry Gustafson, Professor of Political Studies at Auckland University: "One should remember that even under proportional representation electoral systems most splinter, protest, single-issue or charismatic leader-type minority parties have throughout history tended to be either transient phenomena, or ineffective critics on the edge of the system, rather than permanent actors in it."

The five percent threshold gives us some protection from the truly deranged. The pattern of parties with parliamentary representation has however become variegated, and therefore more representative of the increasingly complex tapestry of New Zealand society. More women and Maori are likely to continue to enter Parliament, and party lists will increasingly feature other minorities too.

And what of the hopes of MMP proponents that the new electoral system will produce a fresh and civilised breed of politicians who will deal courteously and calmly with each other, and reach rational and consensual policy decisions with which we can all concur? What of the hopes of those who abhor adversarial and confrontational politics and look for a new dawn when lions and lambs will lie down with each other? I wouldn't hold my breath.

It is true that under MMP we are unlikely to get single party majority government, and therefore we are unlikely to have future Cabinets as powerful, or as unrestrained by Parliament, as has been possible under first-past-the-post. However, whether we have a single party minority government, or a two or more party coalition government, the stuff of politics will still be about deciding, as Harold Lasswell memorably put it, "who gets what, when and how." Politics has been described as "the authoritative allocation of scarce resources" and almost by definition resources are always scarce. When politicians are deciding "who gets what, when and how" tempers are bound to get as frayed in the future as they have in the past. Politics has always been about slicing up the cake, and that will continue to be so. When debate is vigorous - even pugnacious - that is not a sign of democracy's weakness but its strength.

Prospects

Some people are concerned that the vagaries of an MMP parliament might undo many of the post-1984 economic reforms, just at the point when some gain from the pain is becoming increasingly evident. I'm an optimist, for several reasons.

Firstly, Geoffrey Palmer ensured that all new laws must go to Select Committees for public scrutiny and comment. Even under our first-past-the-post parliament, select committees grew increasingly independent of Cabinet, and with the bigger MMP parliament this will become more so.

Secondly, a broad consensus has emerged that the State Sector Act and the Fiscal Responsibility Act are the linchpins of our responsible government. No-one - so far as I'm aware - is talking about repealing them, and they ensure future governments will be constrained from recklessness. These two pieces of legislation have attracted considerable interest and comment outside New Zealand. For instance a recent Economist article noted with approval that the Fiscal Responsibility Act "set budgetary rules which give governments more incentive to take account of the long-term implications of fiscal policy. With the help of such changes New Zealand slashed public spending from 46% of GDP in 1988 to 36% in 1994. That is surely one for the history books."

Even if one does not share the Economist's ideological enthusiasm for "the withering away of the state", one takes North and South journalist David McLoughlin's point that any attempt to repeal the Fiscal Responsibility Act would immediately be dubbed "The Fiscal Irresponsibility Act", and no politician is likely to court such obloquy.

In the future, then, New Zealand's democracy and political debate will be as robust as it has been in the past, of that I have no doubt. People wonder if we shall stick with MMP - I think we shall have no choice. Politicians elevated to power by that electoral machinery will be loath to dismantle it. The electoral system itself will not determine the health or quality of our democracy. The eternal vigilance of citizens will.

The twin pillars of democracy are liberty and equality. The trick is to keep them in some sort of balance. The choices voters make between parties will have much to do with choices between liberty and equality. So long as equality was defined as 'equality of opportunity' the state could provide equal access to goods such as education and health without diminution of the liberty of citizens. However, in recent decades some groups have seen equality of opportunity as insufficient, and have instead demanded that the state provide 'equality of outcomes.' Whenever a state goes down that route the liberty of citizens is necessarily compromised. The voters of New Zealand, in the future as in the past, will determine the quality of our democracy by the policies and parties they choose to support.

To be a democrat one must have faith in the collective wisdom of the electorate. One must hope too for reasonable and reasoning leaders who can spell out to voters the consequences of the choices that they make. Only then will public regard for professional politicians lift from the current abysmal level.

My old Professor, Ralph Brookes, was a master of telling under-statement. In his inaugural lecture in 1962 he described politics as "a means of deciding what is to be done. At one extreme politics shades into law. At the other extreme politics shades into war. But between the bench and the trench is a type of activity that has its own distinct techniques."

He concluded with the thought - as I shall too - "It is an activity not devoid of value.

*Margaret Clark

Margaret Clark is Professor of Politics at Victoria University. Her Bachelors degree was from that University, her Masters from the University of Malaya, and her doctorate from Columbia University in New York. She has written widely, often with a South East Asian focus, and served on several government-appointed and other bodies.