Christopher Luxon against a blue background with medium density housing
Image: The Spinoff

OPINIONPoliticsMay 25, 2023

Henry Cooke: Luxon’s housing backtrack will come back to bite the right

Christopher Luxon against a blue background with medium density housing
Image: The Spinoff

A few years ago Labour and National worked out a truce on planning laws that radically deregulated the building of townhouses. Now, to please his party’s voting base, Christopher Luxon says they got it wrong.

This article was first published in Henry Cooke’s politics newsletter, Museum Street.

So many of New Zealand’s problems are downstream from housing.

The poor stay poor because they are unable to keep up with rising rents or build stability for their children or careers as they shift from suburb to suburb to keep a roof over their head. Every little price rise at the supermarket or preschool is that much worse because housing is eating up far more of their income than it would have 30 or 40 years ago – and the housing they can afford sometimes just kills them. The better-quality flats they would usually rent are taken by young professionals in their 20s and 30s who would quite like to buy a home but can barely dream of it without either help from their parents or by moving to a centre with no jobs. This group puts off family formation or just moves overseas.

Those who manage to get on the ladder find themselves with terrifyingly large mortgages, mortgages that sometimes instruct them to oppose new housing development near them – making them unwilling tools of the system that forced their house price so high in the first place. Now they have this one big asset they have to do all they can to make the market believe it is worth what they paid for it.

Christopher Luxon kicks off National’s election campaign in Birkenhead, Auckland, on May 24 (Photo: Stewart Sowman-Lund)

How a yimby coalition built a tool to get out of this mess

Anger over high housing costs helped drive Labour to office in 2017. The party’s first attempt to fix this was a huge 1930s/1940s-style state-run housebuilding burst named Kiwibuild, but it soon found that the state lacks the capacity or mettle to do that kind of thing any more.

As that policy fell to pieces, then housing minister Phil Twyford started to look seriously at using the state not to build the new housing itself, but to get itself out of the way of private developers building the housing themselves.

You see, while central government had been talking about the need to build lots of new houses for years, local government had been given an array of tools to stop that housing – principally the Resource Management Act (RMA). National had attempted serious reform of the RMA in government but had been stymied by United Future and, well, Labour. Councils are often opposed to new housing because it requires expensive infrastructure and existing homeowners (who vote in high numbers) generally find some reason to oppose any more building around them – these people are known as “nimbys” (not in my backyard). This issue was not new and there had been a serious and partially successful attempt to fix it with the Auckland Unitary Plan, which appears to have seriously helped.

In 2020, Twyford decided to take away a few tools that councils had to stop housing – in particular their ability to prevent the kind of dense apartment blocks that would suit young people, would not need as much expensive roading infrastructure and would help wean New Zealanders off their addiction to cars. Dense housing is also often what existing homeowners are the most opposed to – you might not mind another family living down the road, but you mind another 20.

He did this with a direction under the RMA: something called the NPS-UD (don’t worry about what it stands for). This took away the power for councils to cancel developments in certain areas around transport nodes for a few specific reasons, like that they didn’t have car parks or reached a certain height. Essentially Twyford was telling developers: Go ahead, build up to six storeys and don’t worry about a car park if you don’t want to. The council will no longer have the tools to stop you.

This is a profoundly market-based solution for a party that usually likes the state to get its hands dirty solving big social issues. But it also chimes with broader goals of the left: bring down the cost of housing in urban centres and let people bike or bus to work instead of driving.

Former housing minister Phil Twyford (Photo: Hannah Peters/Getty Images)

broke the story of this new direction in July 2020 and called the National Party for comment. It’s hard to know what to expect with a policy like this: on the one hand, National is generally against meddlesome rules stopping private entities from doing business, on the other hand they really hated Phil Twyford.

The first person I got comment from was National’s then housing spokesperson Jacqui Dean, who said the policy was “madness”. But the row-back began almost immediately, and National’s future housing spokesperson Chris Bishop, who was then infrastructure spokesperson, soon got in touch to say the party actually did support removing the minimum car park requirement.

The reaction of these two MPs was indicative. Bishop is a young National MP who really does appear to believe the government should get out of the way on most things – from abortion law to housing. It was obvious to him that regulation was a major factor stopping housing from being built and that any move to deregulate it should be welcomed by National. He had clear allies in this across the party, most crucially Nicola Willis, his political soulmate.

But as much as there was an internal battle in National over abortion and euthanasia laws at the time, housing regulation was far from settled. Jacqui Dean and other MPs with seats full of home-owning National voters were not so keen to just roll over and let the government allow for more abundant housing.

National was not the only party with this kind of division. A lot of Labour Party and Green Party people were uncomfortable with removing rules to let developers have free rein. What if the apartment block meant cutting a tree down? What if it meant a sleepy leftish suburb in Wellington like Mount Vic was suddenly “under threat”?

Despite these internal misgivings, a cross-party coalition of yimbys (yes in my backyard) seemed to have the wind behind their sales. Labour won the 2020 election and the NPS-UD was winding its slow way through council spatial plans. But it would soon be overshadowed by a much bigger win.

Chris Bishop (Photo: Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)

The truce

Behind the scenes, National’s yimbys eventually won over then party leader Judith Collins to the cause.

That allowed them to negotiate with Labour on something more ambitious than just the NPS-UD. The two parties agreed in 2021 to take away far more power from councils, with new standards (the medium-density residential standards, or MDRS) that would allow all residential land across our main cities to be developed without a resource consent, up to three storeys high and with up to three dwellings.

This was huge. Property owners who would once have needed a costly resource consent to build a shed could bowl down their house and turn it into three tightly packed townhouses without their neighbours being able to stop it. Analysis estimated it would enable 105,000 new homes. It was praised all around the world.

Crucially, it was announced at the podium of truth by both National and Labour, two parties who for the foreseeable future will always be in government. That meant developers could allocate millions of dollars of capital into new homes without worrying that the law would suddenly shift the next time the government changed. There was a truce – the big two would pass this together and not harness the inevitable nimby backlash to hurt the other.

Christopher Luxon was not leader at the time. As a candidate in 2020 he had opposed the exact type of housing the MDRS looked to enable. But once he became leader, the elevation of Nicola Willis to deputy looked like it would probably keep the MDRS somewhat safe – after all, she had designed it. Would he really humiliate her by welching on the promise?

The Act factor

New Zealand does not have a two-party system, and political space vacated by one party is usually filled by another.

This was the case with Act, who soon picked up the nimby anger and ran with it. Despite ostensibly being a party dedicated to freedom and in particular the freedom to do what you like with your private property, Act voted against the MDRS and started aggressively courting nimby National voters. This greatly angered yimby National MPs who saw it as rank and irresponsible political hypocrisy, but it seemed to work for Act, which has kept the decent chunk of voters it won over during the Collins period. Act appears aware that even if it might be incredibly ideologically inconsistent for it to oppose deregulation, this opposition would be popular with the older richer homeowners it was trying to court.

Again, New Zealand is not unique here. The Conservatives in the UK have backed down significantly on planning reform because the Liberal Democrats have campaigned successfully against it.

And there was a lot of pushback.

Housing deregulation is always an easy target in the media. Those who hate it have political clout and can easily describe themselves as victims – ie their nice backyard is going to be in shadow because an apartment block is going up nearby. The potential beneficiaries are much harder to find – the people who might be able to afford an apartment in that block once it goes up probably don’t even know it exists yet. This extends to general campaigning too – property owners set to “lose” their peaceful neighbourhood know how to write to MPs, potential new residents who don’t even live in the electorate yet do not.

It seems that in recent months this pushback and Act’s harnessing of it have won the fight inside National.

Christopher Luxon told a meeting in Birkenhead on Auckland’s North Shore yesterday that National “got the MDRS wrong”. He later told the Herald that he favoured “greenfield” development – converting farmland into suburbs – and wanted councils to have more discretion about where these other new townhouses would go within existing neighbourhoods.

It’s easy to support “greenfield” development. You don’t alienate existing homeowners quite as much because the new housing is further away, and a lot of people who don’t want to live in an apartment are fine with the idea of a long drive to work every day. But greenfield development is hard and slow – you usually need new roads, new pipes, new everything. When you make dense housing in already existing neighbourhoods it isn’t quite plug and play – but the infrastructure does at least exist already.

Now, the exact detail of the new policy isn’t out yet, and is due at some point soon. I expect National will attempt to soothe the pain somewhat by becoming more deregulatory in some sections and more restrictive in others – arguing they are rebalancing MDRS by allowing more mixed-use development in some areas but adding in some more “power for communities” in other areas.

But the truce is clearly over. Once you prise back open the law you signal to developers that planning laws can no longer be relied upon, that you could pour a lot of money into a development now only to find it illegal in a year’s time.

It is politically understandable for National to back down on this and please its voting base. A lot of voters like the theory of less government, but don’t actually want the big bad state to stop protecting their lifestyle. More important than any actual push for or against regulation is the need to maintain the status quo. And it’s hard to ignore an inbox full of emails from long-time voters saying they hate you now because you want to allow their evening sunlight to be ruined.

But eventually this will bite the political right.

The best way to breed new right-wing voters it to give them a mortgage. Renters are more likely to vote left while homeowners are more likely to vote right. That’s why Thatcher selling so many people their state homes was so important. This is probably as much correlation as causation – renters are generally younger – but homeownership is a crucial part of the wider conservative policy prognosis for a reason.

For now though, the homeowners win. Again.

This article was first published in Henry Cooke’s politics newsletter, Museum Street.

Keep going!
Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

PoliticsMay 25, 2023

Deepfakes, shit-floods and the NZ election

Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

Are we ready for an influx of AI-generated muck? Toby Manhire on the perils ahead.

The explosion into the mainstream of generative artificial intelligence has prompted a similarly bewildering profusion of ideas about the various tools’ potential to complicate, improve or pollute whatever they might encounter. In that swill you’ll find everything from party-trick to hyperbole, from life-enhancing breakthroughs to seriously worrying prospects. Putting to one side for the moment any distracting thoughts of, well, an AI-induced extinction of humanity, there is plenty to think about as far as impact on democracy is concerned. Especially if you’re, say, hurtling towards an election. 

The headline of the week in the AI and New Zealand politics category related to the National Party’s use of AI generated images for throwaway social posts. The use of such materials does invite discussion around the way these illustration tools feed on human creators’ material. And there is undeniable amusement value, in recalling the “pretty legal” Eminiesque soundalike (a field now facing its own reckoning with AI), and in political leaders confronting heinous and hopeless AI generated likenesses. 

Christopher Luxon, as ordered up on AI by the AM Show

Though National’s use of AI is innocuous, how would it be if, say, an attack ad was posted with AI generated images depicting Chris Hipkins presiding over a dystopian near-future. That’s pretty much what the Republicans did last month, except the target was Joe Biden. More broadly, the episode encourages us to consider the more serious implications of AI tools for election year, and how bad actors could exploit the technology. Last week on Capitol Hill, Sam Altman, CEO of ChatGPT creator OpenAI, told a senate hearing investigating AI that the potential for such tools to compromise election integrity is a “significant area of concern”. He urged regulation, saying: “I am nervous about it.” 

True, the small and distant nation state of Aotearoa is, blessedly, hardly at the vanguard. We’re unlikely to be top of the list for nefarious, meddling offshore powers. But neither are we immune – everyone from 19th-century Fabians to Mark Zuckerberg have fancied the idea of New Zealand as a social laboratory. 

Disinfo, turbocharged

The most immediate and real risks posed by AI in an election campaign are familiar: disinformation and deception. But the existing potential for manipulation is turbocharged by the newer tech. Anyone can access a large language model such as ChatGPT to generate an ocean of text, reams of potential fake news. Tools to create everything from images to voice – and even rudimentary video – are now within reach. 

“You’ve got an upcoming election,” said Toby Walsh, professor of artificial intelligence at UNSW Sydney, at an Auckland Writers Festival session on the weekend. “And we’re already seeing examples of these technologies being misused to impersonate people. That’s a very real and immediate threat, the idea that you can deepfake just about anything now. These tools are widely available, you can access them very easily. There are real harms with these things because you can’t unsee things that you’ve seen … It’s very realistic and that’s enough to start to pervert our democracy.”

“Robocalls” have long been part of elections: you answer your phone (perhaps more commonly when it was a landline) to hear a candidate rabbiting on about their virtues. Today that candidate’s voice could be cloned, reasonably straightforwardly, and synthesised to engage you in a plausible back-and-forth conversation. 

“Literally with technology that exists today, you can make a Trumpbot,” said Walsh. “You take all these speeches, these tweets, you turn it on and it can say things that sound real. It’s not a very hard thing. You can connect that to a Trump cloning voice –  you only need a few seconds of someone’s voice – and now, you can ring up every voter in the United States. You can have a conversation where Trump persuades someone to vote for him, at a modest cost. I’d be surprised if one of the parties doesn’t start to do this.”

Toby Walsh, professor of artificial intelligence at UNSW Sydney (Photo supplied)

Luxbot and Chipbot

Throw in some personalisation, the sort of thing “we’ve already started to see with Cambridge Analytica”, and you might get a tailored conversation, with – let’s return to this to a New Zealand setting – the Luxbot or Chipbot engaging you directly on the issues that matter to you, or, more cynically perhaps, on what frightens you. 

Is that all fine? Maybe so, and there’s nothing obvious in New Zealand law to prevent it, even if it would probably require an authorisation note at the top.

It gets murkier still when you consider the prospect of setting loose the synthesised voice of a rival. “If I’m an anti-Trump [operative], I could build a Trumpbot to do the same thing and ring voters up and say things that would persuade you not to vote for him,” said Walsh, “though I’m struggling to think would Trump could say to upset his supporters.”

Under New Zealand law, that, too, would likely need a promoter’s statement, obviating some of the risk of confusion. And it might conceivably be considered what the Electoral Act calls a “fraudulent device or contrivance [that] impedes or prevents the free exercise of the franchise of an elector” that amounts to exerting “‘undue influence” and thereby a “corrupt practice”. But, as one person familiar with the law told me, this is 19th century legislation, which didn’t quite have deepfakes or chatbots in mind. 

Were bad actors to be involved, of course, whether at home or abroad, they’d probably not be too bothered with the minutiae of the legislation. Among the other things experts are worried about, in the US at least: voice messages purporting to be from candidates providing false information on how or where to cast a ballot, news reports with a candidate “confessing” to a crime or announcing they’d quit the race, or a trusted and independent (but synthesised) voice expressing an endorsement. 

Former Trump strategist Steve Bannon looking really healthy (Photo: Getty Images)

Flooding the zone

Once a courtier to Trump, Steve Bannon is said to have declared, “The real opposition is the media. And the way to deal with them is to flood the zone with shit.” That approach, one with echoes of Kremlin disinformation strategies, is made a whole lot easier thanks to generative AI.

Massively greater volumes of material can be created, making the flood even more formidable. Not only does that make it difficult to sort what matters from what doesn’t, it gives duplicitous politicians wide air cover for deniability. That audio recording you have of me assailing X or endorsing Y? Fake. Deepfake. Next.

The “post truth” hazard is swelling by the moment. Walsh’s warning is this: “We’re not going to be able to tell what’s true or false any more – and truth is already a pretty fungible idea.”

Regulators smell the coffee

The AI risks – to elections and across industry, politics and society – are suddenly making lawmakers sit up. As well as the congressional inquiry under way, the White House yesterday began the process towards a national strategy on artificial intelligence. “The pace of AI innovation is accelerating rapidly, which is creating new applications for AI across society. This presents extraordinary opportunities to improve the lives of the American people and solve some of the toughest global challenges,” it chirped, though you know what’s coming next. “However, it also poses serious risks to democracy, the economy, national security, civil rights, and society at large.” 

The European Union, not for the first time in responding to digital risks, is ahead of the curve. The AI Act, currently going through the legislative process, seeks to ensure such tools “are overseen by people, are safe, transparent, traceable, non-discriminatory, and environmentally friendly”. The rules would ban biometric surveillance, emotion recognition and predictive policing AIs, and protect . It would also become a legal requirement that the source material created by generative AI – text, images, video, whatever – was disclosed. 

A bill inspired by the Republican ad that conjured up a future Biden, meanwhile, inspired a House Democrat to introduce a bill that would require all political ads to declare any usage of artificial intelligence tools.

What about New Zealand?

The curiosity, concern and energy in response to a watershed AI moment in the capitals of Europe and the US is not mirrored in Wellington. When Stuff asked the main parties about their plans and policies pertaining to AI, they appeared, with the exception of the Greens, just not to have thought about it very much. 

The independent panel tasked with reviewing New Zealand’s electoral laws is expected to produce a draft report in the coming days, and that is likely to tackle some of the challenges presented by AI technologies. But given we’re now less than two months until the start of the regulated period for advertising ahead of the October election, the chances of any changes before the campaign are vanishingly small.

The minister for justice, Kiritapu Allan, told The Spinoff that she was alert to the challenges of AI – “an emerging issue that democracies around the world are grappling with and ensuring our laws are future-proof is really important”, and noted: “Electoral advertising is being considered by the Independent Review of electoral law. The panel’s interim report will be released soon.”

In a statement, she added: “AI is an inherently difficult area to regulate and engages privacy, human rights and broader democratic issues. Because of this, regulatory change in this area needs to be well-considered. While the Electoral Act doesn’t explicitly deal with AI, all electoral advertising needs to comply with the rules set out in the act.”

The chief electoral officer, Karl Le Quesne, said in response to Spinoff questions: “We’re aware of the ongoing changes to the information environment we’re living in where technology continues to change rapidly, as does the way people share information. However, the same rules apply to all election advertisements regardless of the technology or channels used.”

He noted the requirement for all election advertisements to include a promoter statement, with name and address, and that “any change to the rules about election advertising would be a matter for parliament to consider”.

Le Quesne offered the following advice: “We encourage anyone viewing an election ad to apply some basic checks if it doesn’t look right. Does it have a promoter statement saying who’s behind it? If it’s from a candidate or party, you can check if it’s on their social media account or website. If you’re not sure about it, don’t share it.”

With each day that passes, however, that sniff test, the “doesn’t look right” radar, becomes decreasingly dependable.


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