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OPINIONPoliticsJune 17, 2020

Disentangling the Unite for the Recovery ad campaign conundrum

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The government says it’s providing an essential service as the country emerges from Covid-19; the opposition says it’s election propaganda in disguise. Which side is right about Unite for the Recovery?

Being the opposition to a first-term New Zealand government simply isn’t fair. Voters historically appear minded to give whoever is in charge the benefit of the doubt, seemingly thinking that they should get a decent run at the job before being ignominiously turfed out of it. It takes something pretty major – a black budget, losing Britain to the EEC, a popular PM’s death, etc – to break that pattern and change a government after just three years in office.

Being the opposition to a first-term New Zealand government that has just managed through a pandemic disease with what the vast majority (Chris Penk aside) believe to be great success is even more unfair. You find yourself less than 100 days out from election day and 30 points behind in the polls, scrambling to establish some sort of foothold in the political discourse.

Anything that reminds voters of the government’s Covid-19 record is then electoral kryptonite for you. Instead, you want voters looking forward, worrying about their economic future and asking themselves if the people who couldn’t deliver on Kiwibuild and Auckland light rail really should be trusted with it.

Which is why the ostensibly rather innocuous rebranding of the government’s “Unite against Covid-19” advertising into a “Unite for the Recovery” campaign has attracted such opposition ire. It’s not really the content of this campaign that is at issue. That is a pretty bland mix of the universally unobjectionable (“buy NZ stuff”; “take a local holiday”) and the informative (“here are links to government programmes that might help you”), rather than an out-and-out paean to St Jacinda our Saviour.

Instead, it’s the ongoing reminder, branded in the same colours and logo we’ve become accustomed to, that the government successfully steered “our team of five million” through this period that rankles. After all, how can opposition parties hope to move voters to imagine a better future when these constant visual reminders of the past dominate our shared public space?

The Unite For The Recovery twitter account

So, do claims that the “Unite for the Recovery” ad campaign is unfair to the opposition mean that is wrong and should stop? Let’s look at that question first from a process perspective, then from a substantive one.

In terms of process, it’s hard to say that the spending is wrong, simply because there are so few rules governing how such advertising campaigns should take place. The Cabinet Manual, not law but still rule-like in its effect, simply says that: “Successive governments … have chosen to restrict their actions to some extent during [the three months before an election], in recognition of the fact that an election, and therefore potentially a change of government, is imminent.”

It then notes that “some otherwise unexceptionable government advertising has been considered inappropriate during the election campaign, due to the heightened risk of a perception that public funds are being used to finance publicity for party political purposes.”

However, the Cabinet Manual also directs readers to these Guidelines for Government Advertising, which expressly recognise that: “Governments may legitimately use public funds for advertising and publicity to explain their policies, and to inform the public of the government services available to them and of their rights and responsibilities.” And the Cabinet Manual also advises that the State Services Commission “is available to provide advice to the state services on the guidelines, particularly if conduct or integrity issues arise.” Jacinda Ardern claims that such advice has been sought and received to ensure the advertising was “right and proper”.

All of this means that, as the auditor general noted back in 2005: “Judgements about when and how restraints should be applied are matters for ministers and, ultimately, the prime minister.” Does the government, with the advice of the State Services Commission, think that the “Unite for the Recovery” message (and associated information) is so important as to justify any perceived unfair electoral benefit it may accrue?

Clearly it does (or, at least, claims it does). Which then throws the matter over to be judged on substance – is the government right in its assessment of the need for a “Unite for the Recovery” ad campaign?

Prime minister Jacinda Ardern speaks to media ahead of the nationwide lockdown on March 25, 2020 in Wellington. (Photo: Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)

We might note that even John Armstrong’s extremely critical take on the matter accepts that “given the No 1 priority now facing the country is the tackling of the scourge of unemployment and the resulting slashing of incomes in many households, it is essential that people are aware of benefit entitlements, training and apprenticeship opportunities, the mortgage repayment deferral scheme, protection from sudden rent increases, and so forth.”

Because let’s consider the counter-factual, where the government tells the public “now we’ve pretty much got the disease licked and there’s an election coming up, Kiwi businesses will have to market themselves and you’ll have to poke around on the various government websites to find out for yourself what help is available. Good luck, and see you all in three months!”

That approach would undoubtedly be “fairer” for the opposition. It would also, I suspect, result in a torrent of criticism for the government not standing by business and industry, as well as leaving people confused about what aid they can get in these most unusual of times. To say nothing of the media’s ire, who must be clinging to these scraps of government advertising revenue like a small-town mayor to their town’s colonial name.

So, would doing “the right thing” by the opposition be the right thing for the government to do – both in a narrow partisan sense, and in a more general, benefiting the country sense? Noting that we’re not exactly in normal times, but facing the largest economic (and associated social) shock of our lifetime thus far? I’m really not sure that this question has a clear, irrefutable answer.

Well, is there then a better way forward, that doesn’t end up leaving matters in the eye of the political beholder? In its 2005 report on government advertising, the office of the auditor general pointed longingly to the UK “purdah” model, where much more stringent constraints on governmental activity apply during the pre-election period. In particular, the expectation is that upon an election being called, “new advertising campaigns will in general be postponed and running campaigns closed”.

That sort of bright(er) line rule has its obvious attractions. But there are some points to note about the UK model. For one thing, their pre-election period only lasts for a little over a month (as opposed to three months here in New Zealand). They also (usually, in non-Brexit times) hold general elections less frequently than we do. So, the impact of a stricter purdah approach on the ongoing functioning of government is lessened accordingly.

And then there’s the obvious point that the “Unite for the Recovery” campaign isn’t normal government advertising. Do we actually want to have rules in place that prevent, even if in a soft way, governments from being able to respond to these sorts of largely unprecedented situations? Or, is it better to leave them free to act as they best see fit – having then to answer any resultant charges of partisan behaviour? But, how can they be made to “answer charges” if their actions skew the electoral field to their advantage?

All of which makes the question of what to call The Cook look simple by comparison. Ōtepoti hou, anyone?

Keep going!
The Covid-19 testing centre in Ōtara (Photo: RNZ/Dom Thomas)
The Covid-19 testing centre in Ōtara (Photo: RNZ/Dom Thomas)

PoliticsJune 17, 2020

A failure of New Zealand’s defensive wall against Covid-19

The Covid-19 testing centre in Ōtara (Photo: RNZ/Dom Thomas)
The Covid-19 testing centre in Ōtara (Photo: RNZ/Dom Thomas)

Days after she arrived in the country, a woman with mild symptoms was given an exemption to leave managed isolation. She wasn’t tested and may have never been given a full health check, writes Justin Giovannetti, who has first hand experience of how the system should work.

“Are you OK” was never the question a nurse asked me during the 14 days I spent in managed isolation at a government-run hotel after flying into the country.

Every day, generally around 9:30 am, a nurse phoned my room or knocked on the door. Most days it was my only face-to-face(mask) interaction. The conversation went like this: It’s time for your health check. Do you have a cough, a sore throat, a fever, a runny nose, shortness of breath, maybe a loss of smell, any aches or pains?

So it came as a surprise on Tuesday afternoon when director-general of health, Ashley Bloomfield, said one of New Zealand’s now two active cases of Covid-19 left managed-isolation despite mild symptoms, and without being tested. He’s looking into what went wrong.

And something did go wrong.

“I think this is one of things we want to check. My understanding is the person who had the symptoms was asked, ‘Are you OK’, and the protocol as you’ve just described is to go through each individual symptom and ask, and it may well have been that would have elicited specific symptoms that may have led to suspicion, but, again, I think this individual attributed her symptoms to a pre-existing condition,” said Bloomfield when I asked him yesterday how someone could exit managed-isolation with any symptoms.

“The person who did have some symptoms put them down to a pre-existing condition. They were non-specific, they attributed them to a pre-existing condition rather than the onset of an illness,” he added.

I don’t understand how this could happen. The government’s entire system of border controls rests on that one daily conversation with a nurse being conducted thoroughly and truthfully. The government’s move over the past few weeks to add mandatory testing at the border doesn’t change that. It’s trust, but verify.

Some days a nurse may have skipped a symptom or two during the health check, but during my two-week stint in government care it was made clear to me on a daily basis that any runny nose or scratch in the throat was cause for concern.

The message was clear: Yes, you may have just travelled halfway around the world in an aeroplane, you might be jet-lagged and tired, you may have just spent days in a small hotel room with very little exercise and less human contact. You might not feel great. Tell us everything.

The two women would have been in a bad situation. They arrived in New Zealand on June 7 after a long journey. They boarded a plane in the UK, where the coronavirus is raging, transited in Doha, then went through Brisbane, before finally landing in Auckland.

They arrived last Sunday. At midnight on Monday, the day after they arrived, New Zealand entered alert level one. On Friday, five days into their 14 days of mandatory isolation, they asked for a compassionate exemption to see a loved one. Their relative died that night. It must have been absolutely awful for them.

The women left Auckland’s Novotel Ellerslie the next morning, six days after they entered the country. Despite a new testing regime at the border where people are supposed to be tested once on entering and once before leaving managed-isolation, the exemption was granted so quickly that no tests were conducted.

On June 15, as part of their release plan with the health department, they went for a drive-through test in Wellington. They both tested positive.

No one will be allowed to leave managed isolation again without a negative test result, according to Bloomfield. Last night the health minister, David Clark, suspended compassionate exemptions.

Something went wrong at New Zealand’s border last week and we need to know what happened. Assessing whether someone develops symptoms is the entire point of the government’s managed-isolation system. It’s this country’s main line of defence against a global pandemic. In this case it failed.

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