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Christopher Luxon,  Chris Bishop, Nicola Willis, David Seymour and Winston Peters make their way to the house on budget day 2024, May 30, 2024. (Photo: Hagen Hopkins / Getty Images)
Christopher Luxon, Chris Bishop, Nicola Willis, David Seymour and Winston Peters make their way to the house on budget day 2024, May 30, 2024. (Photo: Hagen Hopkins / Getty Images)

OPINIONPoliticsMay 31, 2024

Budget 2024: starving the future’s needs to pay for today’s politics

Christopher Luxon,  Chris Bishop, Nicola Willis, David Seymour and Winston Peters make their way to the house on budget day 2024, May 30, 2024. (Photo: Hagen Hopkins / Getty Images)
Christopher Luxon, Chris Bishop, Nicola Willis, David Seymour and Winston Peters make their way to the house on budget day 2024, May 30, 2024. (Photo: Hagen Hopkins / Getty Images)

The government’s myopic focus on short-term interests – both the taxpayers’ and its own – risks causing long-term damage, warns Max Rashbrooke.

Evidence of a continued addiction to spending? Or, conversely, a slash and burn approach to the public finances? Neither of these rival interpretations of finance minister Nicola Willis’s first budget can be made to stick. What Willis did, in fact, was to craft a short-term hand-out to key political constituencies – while averting her gaze from the increasingly unmanageable long-term pressures building up in the public finances and, by extension, the social fabric.

First off, it is hardly austerity, in a pure sense, when public spending is projected to rise from $138.3bn this year to $156.4bn in 2028. Over the next four years, billions and billions of dollars will be poured into health and education in particular. In the same period of time, government borrowing will be $17.1bn higher than was expected the last time the books were opened. Small wonder the Taxpayers’ Union is not best pleased.

These spending increases, however, are much less impressive than they seem. As the economy grows, the population lifts, inflation increases and needs multiply, government spending has to rise just to keep up. And because the economy is forecast to grow more quickly than state spending, “core crown expenses”, as they are known, will fall from the current 33.5% of GDP to 31.1% in 2028. The state’s share of the economy – its presence in our lives, if you like – will noticeably decline.

Projected core crown revenue and expenses (Source: NZ Treasury / Budget 2024)

This, of course, is still not slash and burn. For around half a century, the working assumption has been that New Zealand governments “naturally” spend around 30% of GDP. And we are not projected to get back to that mark until the 2030s. Again, it is unsurprising that conservatives are cross.

The 30% assumption, though, is a big problem. There is nothing natural about it. To take a few European examples: German governments typically spend around 38%, Dutch ones 40%, and Austrian ones 42%. (And that’s not even counting the tax-loving Scandinavians.) If we taxed at those overall rates, our government would have around $20-30bn extra to spend each year. The Europeans get those funds by levying wealth, capital gains and inheritance taxes, and payroll taxes to boot; in return they get better public services, reduced poverty rates, and more convincing efforts to reduce carbon emissions.

New Zealanders, in contrast, have champagne tastes on a beer budget: we want those high-quality public services, but aren’t – currently – willing to pay for them. And the problems with that approach, which is mirrored in Willis’s ideological determination to (slowly) get spending down to 30% of GDP, are plain to see in this budget.

Take the $16.7bn that Shane Reti proudly proclaims has been allocated to health. Sounds impressive – until one realises that last year, officials estimated $13bn was needed just to maintain current services, and that this year they said the true figure was probably higher. This is known as meeting “cost pressures” or, less formally, “keeping the lights on”: compensating for inflation, allowing for wage increases, and maintaining service levels to an ageing population. Another $1.8bn of the Reti money goes to Pharmac for new drugs. There could be, in short, just a few hundred million each year to improve primary and hospital services in much of our calamitously over-stretched health sector. Some parts of that sector may even find themselves going backwards financially.

two hands looking like they're in a medical setting with palms out, coins imposed and a blue background with a 'budget 2024' sticker on top
Health is getting a $16.7bn boost – but it’ll cost at least $13bn just to maintain current services. (Image: The Spinoff)

It is a similar story in education. A $2.9bn package over four years sounds good, but most of it ($1.5bn) is just to maintain and repair creaking school buildings. The actual operating grants to ECE centres and schools are probably only in line with inflation, broadly speaking – and this in a sector that has been hammered by rising costs in recent years. The much-touted “structural literacy” drive to improve the way children learn to read, meanwhile, gets a grand total of $67m over four years. Again, the funding needed for a real overhaul of a struggling sector – for investment in an array of new programmes and a serious step-change in teaching – is nowhere in sight.

This picture repeats across the whole of the public finances. In the Budget documents, the Treasury warns that the money Willis has set aside for new spending in 2025 and 2026 – $2.4bn in each case – is not even enough to compensate for inflation and maintain existing services. Something, surely, will have to give.

There is, of course, money in the budget to appease the constituencies National thinks are vital to winning again in 2026. Landlords, as well-trailed, get a four-year, $2.9bn tax cut via the restoration of their ability to deduct mortgage interest from their tax bill. Around $10bn will go on raising tax thresholds and expanding the independent earner tax credit. Some $700m is spent on childcare rebates. If you are a middle-income family with kids, and in particular if you also happen to own a rental property, National has your short-term interests covered.

The country’s long-term interests, however, are neglected. Infrastructure spending rises sharply this year, to around $18bn, but falls to under $10bn in 2028, even though the population will grow significantly in that time, and we already have massive under-investment to make up. Because the budget’s “squeezed middle” policies – including tax cuts and raising the in-work tax credit – explicitly exclude beneficiaries and do almost nothing for minimum-wage workers, child poverty rates are projected to rise or, at best, stagnate. Funding cuts will slow Commerce Commission work that could help break up the oligopolies that push up prices and stifle innovation. There is no extra support to help retrain the tens of thousands of people made redundant in our anti-inflation drive. The government seems to have closed its eyes to these long-term realities; it appears unwilling to make the needed investments in our long-term prosperity.

As Willis’s “sinking lid” slowly pushes spending back towards 30% of GDP, in other words, short-term political desires are met – but long-term public needs continue to boil away. As the population ages, the demand – and need – for healthcare spending will grow. Climate change mitigation and adaption – managed retreat, in particular – will demand billions of extra dollars. The lifetime costs of leaving tens of thousands of children in poverty will keep mounting up. The 30% spending target never made sense, but it is getting increasingly unsustainable. Willis looks very much like someone trying to hold down a heavy lid on a huge pot that, heated with ever greater intensity, boils harder and harder, threatening to blow the top right off.

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Christopher Luxon’s budget speech gets a round of applause (Photo: Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)
Christopher Luxon’s budget speech gets a round of applause (Photo: Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)

PoliticsMay 30, 2024

Giant hands and Jamaican reggae: The budget debate goes off the rails

Christopher Luxon’s budget speech gets a round of applause (Photo: Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)
Christopher Luxon’s budget speech gets a round of applause (Photo: Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)

Over the course of three hours of budget speeches, parliament turned into an unruly, overtired detention hall, where MPs forgot all about tax cuts and started yelling random words from the dictionary. Joel MacManus was there.

Nicola Willis tried so hard to make the budget boring. The white cover page, the sans serif font without a hint of personality. It screamed restraint and responsibility. There was no flashy budget-day tie for the finance minister this year, just a royal blue pantsuit, the colour of the National Party logo. “This is a budget for the squeezed middle,” she said as she revealed her budget to the house. It was for the people doing it tough, the average family, the people whose lives would be changed by a $20-a-week tax cut.

The opposition MPs weren’t listening. Their heads were still buried in the budget documents. The government benches weren’t much better. A mention of the previous government’s spending-to-debt ratio drew some halfhearted boos. She tried again, referencing the operating allowance of the last budget. Like a distracted chorus in a school production, the National backbenchers suddenly remembered they’re supposed to complain about that.

“It’s not enough to open our hearts to those in need. Truly meeting the challenges of those in need requires we use our heads as well,” Willis said. Everyone on the government benches clapped, except Paul Goldsmith, who puckered his lips like he was considering having a second dessert. National MP Simon Watts clapped his hands peculiarly high, as if a fly was buzzing in front of his nose. Watts has enormous hands. As he brought them back down, they draped over the edge of his armrests, his extended phalanges embracing the supple green leather. 

Actually, it’s not just his hands. It’s his wingspan too. His unruly limbs made his claps look even less coordinated. At no point did he seem totally confident his hands would strike one another. His right pinky finger crashed awkwardly into his left index finger. 

A round of applause for Luxon after his budget speech. Simon Watts, sadly, is out of shot (Photo: Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)

“This year’s budget is the cleanup job New Zealand needs,” Willis said. She was proud of that line. Chris Luxon shook his head, as if to say he wasn’t mad at Labour, just disappointed. Simon Watts moved his claps even higher. Both hands were above his head, like an aerobics instructor trying to rally an unmotivated class. “New Zealanders can look forward with confidence, knowing this government backs them,” Willis concluded. Chris Bishop leapt to his feet to embrace her; he was so fast he got in before the prime minister. Once Luxon had his turn, Bishop went in for hug number two. Simon Watts looked at his own hands, focusing really hard on his claps. On every beat, his palms made full contact with each other. Good job Simon.

Chris Hipkins tried to prove Willis had broken her promise not to borrow money for tax cuts, which Willis strongly insisted she did not do. His argument seemed mostly based on semantics; there is borrowing and there are tax cuts, ergo…? “This government is fuelling inflation.” His cheer squad of fellow Labour MPs was distracted reading the budget documents and didn’t give him the response he wanted. Except, that is, for Tangi Utikere, who was extremely aware that by sitting behind the party leader he was on TV the whole time. He was very focused, sitting up, nodding, pulling faces, and jeering exactly when he was supposed to. 

Chris Hipkins lands a blow (Photo: Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)

Hipkins landed his best blow by pointing out the tiny tax cuts for superannuitants; less than $2.50 a week. “Not even enough for a pack of chewing gum.” He accused the government of trickle-down economics. “Hogwash,” someone yelled from the government benches. Who still says hogwash? Oh, it was Simon Watts again, looking very proud of himself while he rested his chin on his giant skeleton hands. Hipkins’ speech was far too long, and was made weaker by the half-hearted support from the Labour benches. 

Chris Luxon spent his entire speech facing back towards his own side, revelling in their praise. He offered a review of Hipkins’ speech. “It should have been a much, much shorter speech”. (He’s not wrong about that). “It should have been two words: thank you coalition government and thank you Nicola Willis”. (That’s nine words.) Labour’s Rachel Brooking attempted to jeer, but she kept yelling entire paragraphs, and no one could hear them. (Pick your keywords, Rachel!). Luxon made a dig about Hipkins’ previous role as education minister. “Don’t bother,” yelled Simon Watts, performatively facepalming. His fingers almost wrapped around his entire skull. As Luxon wrapped up (about 10 minutes later than he should have) he banged the desk three times, apparently a cue for his lieutenants. “We are going to get New Zealand…” he began. The National caucus echoed: “Back on track.” 

Simon Watts and his hands (Screenshot: Parliament TV)

Marama Davidson was up next and labelled it “a mean and nasty budget.” Her speech was constantly interrupted by Shane Jones yelling random words plucked from dictionary. “Coal”, “carpark”, “victimhood”, “mining”, “forestry”, “hot water”. She pointed out the child poverty report in this year’s budget was only four pages long. “Oh, is that right, is it?” Winston Peters jeered. (Yes, it was right.) She continued, “This government has slashed and burned almost all climate and environmental-minded policy while pouring coal and gas over the roaring climate crisis fire.” “Coal,” Shane Jones echoed back. “Coal, coal… Carpark”. 

David Seymour began by having a go at Davidson. “Someone should call the physics department, because the last five minutes of her speech felt like 15.” He’s not wrong, but that line could apply to literally every speaker. “We need to spend less time tied up in rules and regulations and more time being productive.” We need to spend less time letting politicians talk about the budget. “We believe New Zealanders are human beings… with human dignity,” he said, a line that filled the room with human emotions. 

Green Party co-leader Marama Davidson shakes hands with finance minister Nicola Willis in the house (Photo: Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)

The mighty kaumatua of the house, Winston Peters, spent his allotted 20 minutes throwing barbs at random MPs and completely forgot about the budget. Rachel Brooking tried another multi-sentence jeer. “Not many people could eat a banana sideways, but you could,” Peters said. He responded to an earlier claim by Hipkins about the budget resembling 80s-era trickle-down economics: “He forgot to say it was Labour who brought it in,” a stinging attack against the vast numbers of current Labour MPs who served under David Lange and Roger Douglas. Accusing Labour of ignoring their spending while in government, he said it was “like the American rapper Shaggy: It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t me”. Peters told the house he was trying to be “a bit modern” with his references. (Shaggy is a Jamaican reggae artist, not an American rapper, and ‘It Wasn’t Me’ came out in 2000.)

Several Labour  MPs yelled at Peters to “talk about the budget”, which he ignored. He started going at 21-year-old Te Pāti Māori MP Hana-Rawhiti Maipi-Clarke for no apparent reason. “You’re not the youngest member of parliament, you never were,” he said. (Twenty-year-old James Stuart-Wortley was elected in 1853.) Maipi-Clarke mimed some boxing moves back at him, then made a heart shape with her hands.

After spending the day leading nationwide protests, Te Pāti Māori returned to the house just in time to make the last speeches. Co-leader Rawiri Waititi was fired up, but first he ceded half his time to his youngest colleague. “I’m not here to talk about the budget, because there’s nothing in it for us,” Maipi-Clark said. Instead, she went right at Peters. “Why are you so triggered by me, so intimidated by me?” she asked the NZ First leader. She spoke about the rising tide of activism and the kōhanga reo generation taking te ao Māori forward. “A kuia and koro will always hold their grandchild’s hand. Well now, we have to hold the hands of our kaumātua, and I’ll hold Winston’s hand.” Waititi took the reins and made his big announcement: Te Pāti Māori had signed a declaration intending to establish a separate Māori parliament. “We allowed you 150 years to establish a parliament. Today, we started a conversation to start our own,” he told the house. “We’ve honoured kawanatanga, but we’ve allowed you to assume you have one over us, and you do not.” 

Over the course of three hours, the jeers got louder and made less and less sense. The debate shifted from a chewing gum tax cut to the core constitutional foundations of our country. Simon Watts came and went, taking breaks to rest his precious hands from the arduous labour of clapping. The second Waititi ended his speech, Chris Bishop bounced out of his seat to move for the debate to be adjourned. Anything to end this torture. 

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Joel MacManus
— Wellington editor

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