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OPINIONPoliticsJune 25, 2020

The prisoner voting law and the dawn of the zombie electors

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Finally, voting rights for prisoners serving less than three years has been restored. It’s a cause to celebrate, but it appears to have been overshadowed by some procedural games and unhelpful amendments, writes Andrew Geddis.

Last night should have been a cause for muted celebration in parliament, with the Electoral (Registration of Sentenced Prisoners) Bill’s final passage through the house partially erasing a stain on New Zealand’s democratic system.

It’s a drum I’ve been beating for the past decade, but denying all sentenced prisoners the right to vote is a pretty petty thing to do. Here’s my view from 2010 – in what remains the most read thing I have ever written – regarding the Bill that removed all prisoners’ voting rights:

This proposal is downright wrong in its intent, outright stupid in its design and (if finally enacted) would be such an indelible stain on the parliamentary lawmaking process as to call into question that institution’s legitimacy to act as supreme lawmaker for our society.

(And if you think this was a tough analysis, check out Grant Robertson’s characterisation of the 2010 law in the final speech in parliament before it was passed – noting also his words on why changing it matters so much to him personally and the country generally.)

So, as you can imagine, I’m firmly of the opinion that Wednesday night’s reversal of that 2010 law and restoration of voting rights to prisoners serving sentences of less than three years is A Very Good Thing. It’s not the perfect thing. As Graeme Edgeler wrote in a submission on the current law, which he then kindly allowed me to join:

I support the overall intention of this bill. Indeed, I believe it should go further. I consider that being sentenced to imprisonment should not, by itself, remove the right to vote. I would welcome any further opening up of the right to vote, including, for example, raising the threshold, and encourage the Committee to recommend this to the House.

That also was the view of the Ministry of Justice, which in its initial advice on the issue recommended that “removing the disqualification of prisoners from voting entirely is the best option. It is the only option that removes the significant human rights and Treaty of Waitangi issues in the current law. This option is consistent with NZBORA, our international human rights obligations and the Crown’s Treaty obligations. It would return New Zealand’s law to the position that existed in 1975–1977.”

Nevertheless, this is one of those situations where the perfect may well have been the enemy of the good. The bill as just passed can be readily justified as a simple return to the status quo before the procedurally deficient 2010 law change took place – a status quo, remember, that parliament unanimously had agreed to in 1993. And, if you want a reminder of just how (un)seriously those who removed the right of prisoners to vote in 2010 viewed the issue, watch this low point in the history of New Zealand’s parliament.

Also, if we’re going to be ruthlessly pragmatic, the just-passed bill likely was as much as the minister of justice, Andrew Little, could get out of New Zealand First. National was never going to support any move to reverse its legislation despite Nick Smith’s alleged distaste for electoral law changes made on a purely party-political basis. So, NZ First’s nine votes got to decide how far the law will change. In politics, the first thing you need to learn to do is to count.

So, last night should have been a cause for muted celebration in parliament. Unfortunately, it appears to have been overshadowed somewhat by some procedural games played during the bill’s committee stage.

I won’t go into the details of what these were. In short, they involved National deciding to vote for some Green Party amendments to the bill that would have made sense had an earlier Green Party amendment to allow all prisoners to vote been adopted. But since the earlier amendment wasn’t adopted (because National joined everyone else in voting against it), the later amendments now don’t make sense.

So, what do the amendments as passed actually say?

First of all, the rights of prisoners sentenced to three or more years in prison to enrol to vote (much less cast a vote) remain unchanged. The as-amended law still says that prisoners serving three or more years are disqualified from registering on the electoral roll. And under the Electoral Act 1993, only someone whose “name lawfully appears” on the electoral roll may vote.

However, the Green/National supported amendments now require prison managers to tell all prisoners, not just those serving sentences less than three years, that they have the right to enrol to vote and are also legally obliged to do so. This is despite the fact that if any prisoner serving three or more years actually goes ahead and tries to enrol, the Electoral Commission still must refuse to enrol them.

To put it crudely, the Green/National Party supported amendments require prison managers to lie to (some) prisoners.

In addition, the Green/National Party supported amendments remove the Electoral Commission’s power to take off the electoral roll any registered individual who is then sentenced to three or more years in prison. However, because such prisoners are legally disqualified from registering, their name then will not “lawfully” appear on the electoral roll and hence they can’t vote.

So in effect, they become “zombie electors” – a term I totally just invented myself. Their names will be on the electoral roll, but without any legal right to actually vote. And as such, the Electoral Commission will have to find some way to tag such individuals to ensure that any attempt to cast a vote on their part gets weeded out. More work for them to no apparent benefit.

None of which makes any sense at all. I’m not sure the National Party will care all that much given that it looks like sloppy lawmaking by the government and is going to eat up some more time in the house to fix. When you’re in opposition, you take your “victories” where and how you can find them.

But the Green Party needs to think hard about whether the passage of its amendments – well-intentioned as they were in light of their support for all prisoners being able to vote – has improved the law. Andrew Little has signalled that he wants them removed next week. They really ought to support him in doing so.

Keep going!
David Clark and Ashley Bloomfield on their way to a press conference. Photo by Mark Mitchell – Pool/Getty Images
David Clark and Ashley Bloomfield on their way to a press conference. Photo by Mark Mitchell – Pool/Getty Images

PoliticsJune 25, 2020

David Clark is not responsible

David Clark and Ashley Bloomfield on their way to a press conference. Photo by Mark Mitchell – Pool/Getty Images
David Clark and Ashley Bloomfield on their way to a press conference. Photo by Mark Mitchell – Pool/Getty Images

A minister of health with a humility bypass creates a problem for Jacinda Ardern – especially when he’s contrasted with Ashley Bloomfield, writes Toby Manhire.

With the cadence of a fingernail sliding down a blackboard, David Clark spent much of yesterday declining to accept responsibility. Speaking with Lisa Owen on Checkpoint, he spent several minutes refusing to accept so much as a whisker of the stuff. The serious error that saw just about every person – 51 of 55 – permitted to exit managed isolation early do so without a Covid-19 test was the responsibility of the director general of health, Ashley Bloomfield, said Clark. Bloomfield had accepted the responsibility, so that was the responsibility taken care of, leaving none of it left for him. It was an operational matter. Are we clear?

If that exchange was painful to endure, the Newshub clip was agony. As Clark detailed the responsibility situation (it was Bloomfield’s), Newshub camera maestro Billy Paine panned to the director general of responsibility himself, standing a couple of feet behind the minister. Bloomfield’s expressions rarely give anything away. Here it was a painting of – I don’t know. Betrayal? Fury? Bafflement? Maybe he’d just remembered he’d left his lights on.

It is true, of course, that Bloomfield had accepted responsibility for the mistakes. But responsibility is not an unshareable concept. Difficult to share: gummy bears, scooters, the human soul. Easy to share: responsibility. Take some! Get in! Of course I take responsibility – I take it enormously seriously, I take responsibility for the health system as a whole, and I will do everything in my power to make sure mistakes such as these do not happen again.

No doubt Clark feels on thin ice after admitting to being “an idiot” and getting bounced down to the bottom rank of Cabinet for breaking the lockdown rules. That must have sucked. But accepting some ministerial responsibility doesn’t mean resigning – it is necessarily something that is proportional to whatever it is for which responsibility is being taken. And the principle of ministerial responsibility does not magically exclude “operational matters”. A 2013 Labour Party press release from then shadow leader of the house and now speaker Trevor Mallard welcomed a speaker’s ruling on parliamentary questions with the headline, “Ministers are responsible for operational matters”.

“Operational matters” aren’t a get-out-of-responsibility-free card. “Operational matters” can be substituted in most sentences for “things that happened”.

Usually invoked in relation to police or justice matters, the concept is useful to determine when a politician should stay the hell out of an “operational matter” to avoid inappropriate influence. If Clark had been meddling in operational matters to the effect that he peered through the window of the Pullman Hotel to make sure Barry had returned a negative test before nipping out to a funeral on day eight of his stay, I don’t think anyone would have much minded. Turns out, in fact, Clark has not once – not once – visited an isolation facility in person. Truly he is unblemished by the operation.

If it were just for the obstinacy and oddness, it may not be so bad. Even the impression of a spot of buck-passing might blow out like the next plume of Wellington fog. But one does not simply walk into a press conference and abdicate any responsibility while Ashley Bloomfield is standing right there. This is, after all, a man rumoured to walk daily to the city from Eastbourne, directly across the harbour.

For all the kitsch veneration, of course, Bloomfield is no saint. On his watch we’ve seen the NZ Covid dome spring colander leaks. The contact tracing tech isn’t good enough. He’s proved a master at not quite answering the question (“what I can say is …”). But would you swap him? It’s hard to imagine a clearer communicator, a more informed, tireless, calm, reassuring and, frankly, wise person to helm the health response to this monumental crisis – a response that has left us one of the few places in the world that have the luxury of freaking out about even faint possibilities of the coronavirus leaking into the community.

And ask yourself this: have you ever seen Bloomfield point even a pinky of blame at someone else for anything that has gone wrong? He was left embarrassed by the two women who tested positive after driving from Auckland to Wellington without being tested, the incident that broke the dam of stories about the failures in the isolation system. Embarrassed, chiefly, because their story, which he confidently presented as complete, was not complete after all. You’d hardly have blamed him if he’d scolded them, even in a small way. Many of us would have. He did not. Not once have I heard him get salty about the efforts of ministry staff or DHB snafus. He just wouldn’t. For the minister, it doesn’t make a great contrast. (Also, and this is not a joke, Bloomfield is an accomplished mountain biker.)

The Stickybeak/Spinoff poll that ran across the weekend found 45% of people reckoning the events of last week warranted a “senior resignation”. We didn’t ask who, but I’m going to take a wild guess and suggest that most wouldn’t have picked Dr Bloomfield. For Clark, the writing looked mostly on the wall the day the prime minister said she’d have fired him if they weren’t in the middle of a crisis. It’s unimaginable that he’d get the health portfolio back were Labour re-elected. The more pressing question for the prime minister is whether he’s a liability on the campaign trail. An urgent operational matter to attend in Australia, perhaps, returning a fortnight before election day.

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