Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

OPINIONSocietyMay 4, 2023

Just how hopeless is KiwiRail?

Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

This week’s Wellington disruptions are the latest episode in an epic saga of rail network inadequacy. But it doesn’t always have to be this way, writes André Brett.

If you are travelling by train, do you want to know the railway is safe? Obviously, you do. Luckily, track evaluation cars can provide precise technical information about the state of the track, meaning faults can be detected before they become dangerous.

The thing is, KiwiRail owns one track evaluation car. This vehicle, EM80, must regularly inspect a network spanning two islands and approximately 4,000 kilometres. Also, it’s over 40 years old.

To meet regulatory requirements, KiwiRail’s lonely old EM80 visits Wellington every four months. Essentially, each line has to get its Warrant of Fitness. The Kāpiti Line needed to be inspected by the start of May; the Hutt by 7 May. But it transpired that EM80 was being repaired in Auckland. Consequently, trains have had to observe speed restrictions this week, and fewer services can operate. Oops.

Worse, it turned out the original announcement last Friday was incomplete. Even if EM80 had not been under repair, it was not scheduled to inspect Wellington’s network until May, too late for Kāpiti, and this blunder somehow was not identified sooner. Transport minister Michael Wood summoned KiwiRail’s bosses to the Beehive and subsequently announced an independent review.

New Zealand has a completely inadequate national rail network. It is inadequate in scope, frequency, and management. There have been few upgrades and many cuts since the 1950s. The North Island Main Trunk’s last major upgrade occurred in the 1980s, when the central section was electrified. Imagine if State Highway 1 was last upgraded in the 1980s or if the highway network as a whole was stuck in the 1950s.

How did we get here? Two attitudes have underpinned railway operations for decades. First, a focus on goods. Since the 1950s, passengers have been seen as a noisy inconvenience. Containers and coal do not talk back. Second, managed decline: a process of minimising losses and public objection to the winding down of rail services. New Zealand Railways, one of the largest government departments, was corporatised in 1982 and privatised in 1993. Privatisation led to asset-stripping by a monopoly focused on immediate financial gain, and the Clark Labour government renationalised the network as KiwiRail in 2008.

The Coastal Pacific scenic train (Christchurch-Picton) at Lake Grassmere (Photo André Brett)

KiwiRail is a state-owned enterprise, required to turn a profit, and it operates within legislative and political restrictions. I have in the past been generous to it. I’m a historian: if I cannot scour an archive, I temper my formal assessments. KiwiRail must cut its coat according to its cloth, so I’ve cut it slack.

But recent events are beyond a joke. It is hard to avoid the impression KiwiRail has little interest in running a railway or serving those who want to use it. It is doing potentially irreparable damage to the future of rail in New Zealand. Wellington’s fiasco is only the latest inconvenience KiwiRail has thrust upon rail users. Auckland is experiencing months-long shutdowns on every line. Most of the country does not even have passenger rail as an option: car dependency is baked into our transport system. As for freight, insiders tell of existing or prospective users being cold-shouldered.

KiwiRail’s responses to proposals for improvement are often a crude better-things-aren’t-possible attitude. Take its response to intercity rail proposals in the South Island. This is “not operationally viable” because the Main South Line is at capacity with… 10–14 trains daily. It handled many more until 1980s–90s penny-pinching slashed track capacity. Now that capacity is needed again, KiwiRail seems incapable of seeking it. How is this organisation so cowed that it cannot publicly advocate for funding to expand rail use?

Our railways are so emaciated that nobody in New Zealand has experience in running a modern, growing network. Moreover, we are so hostile to enabling transport without four rubber tyres that we struggle to attract talent: when Wayne Brown, a man with a car-shaped brain, won the Auckland mayoralty, an international appointee for CEO of Auckland Transport said “yeah nah”. Our railways need to be run by people with experience expanding network scope and usage.

It is time to ask if KiwiRail should be broken up. A non-profit public body could maintain the network and allocate train paths, with local/national authorities operating urban and regional passenger rail collaboratively for public benefit. KiwiRail can remain a state-owned enterprise seeking profits from tourist trains and goods but compete with any private operator willing to have a go. Unlike the existing state of affairs, which lacks accountability or ambition, this structure would foster innovation and not discriminate against passengers in favour of goods.

There has also been some good news – indeed, the timing suggests it was intended to soften the blow of Wellington’s delays. The government will support new trains for Manawatū and Wairarapa services. This is essential: the existing 1970s rollingstock has been refurbished to within an inch of its life and a 2021 report identified a positive benefit/cost ratio of 1.83 to purchasing 22 trains (unlike many road projects with negative BCRs). Penny-pinching continues, since the order is only for 18. Hopefully it is expanded for regions nationwide.

One of Sydney’s track inspection trains (Photo: André Brett)

KiwiRail will buy a new track evaluation car, too – but only one. Why not one for each island? Sydney has two for its urban network alone. They cost up to $40m, justifiable expenditure for decades of safe operation. New Zealand talks a lot about resilience, but when it comes to investing in equipment, infrastructure, and redundancy to provide resilience, the talk is often hollow. Alas, “redundancy” is anathema to many who have run New Zealand’s railways as a cost-cutting exercise for decades.

Kiwis often think of cars as freedom and congestion as other people, rather than modal choice as freedom and public transport as opportunity. Even similarly car-dependent Australia does better – Melbourne, for instance, has hourly trains to towns of a similar size to our regional centres that have no trains at all. If they can make it work, New Zealand can. The current state of affairs is depressing, but better things are possible: we can have good, accessible, sustainable transport.

Dr André Brett is a Kāpiti Coaster who is currently lecturer of history at Curtin University, Perth. He authored Can’t Get There from Here: New Zealand Passenger Rail since 1920 (Otago University Press, 2021).

Keep going!
A confident man with a podcast (Image: Tina Tiller)
A confident man with a podcast (Image: Tina Tiller)

SocietyMay 4, 2023

Help Me Hera: How do I get the confidence of a straight white man with a podcast?

A confident man with a podcast (Image: Tina Tiller)
A confident man with a podcast (Image: Tina Tiller)

Having a functional sense of doubt is as much a part of being an artist as having wealthy benefactors (Da Vinci) or being able to paint horses good (Stubbs).’

Want Hera’s help? Email your problem to helpme@thespinoff.co.nz

Dear Hera,

I want to be able to share my art and poetry and music without doubt in my heart. How do I acquire the confidence of a straight white man with a podcast?

a line of dice with blue dots

First of all, let’s hear it for straight white guys with podcasts. Sure, some of them are pedantic misogynists with confiscated-beyblade energy. But many belong to a fundamentally sound demographic: weird guys with niche hobbies. How else could I listen to over 200 hours of free, in-depth, extensively researched British history, complete with galloping horse sound effects, while darning my socks on cold winter evenings? Anyone who chooses to regularly record then broadcast their own conversations on the internet is clearly insane, and therefore to be feared and respected.

Trying to make art without doubt in your heart is like building a fireworks factory without a working smoke detector. Having a functional sense of doubt is as much a part of being an artist as having wealthy benefactors (Da Vinci) or being able to paint horses good (Stubbs). But in order to trust your doubt, first you have to understand what it’s telling you. Is Lassie barking at the postman or has Timmy fallen down yet another village well?

Is your doubt about the horror of courting perception? Or are you unsure about the work you’re putting out? If it’s the former, that’s reasonable. I recommend hitting send, and taking a long agitated walk to the duck pond. Or doing something disproportionally stressful and annoying, like filing your taxes or cleaning the oven. But if your doubt has to do with what you’re making, it’s worth trying to figure out why. 

Sometimes we don’t know why something isn’t working. All we have to go on is a prevailing sense of unease. But trying to understand that unease is better than ignoring it. The beginning of any artistic career is inherently annoying.  Just because you can appreciate the cool, declarative prose of The Babysitter’s Club Winter Holiday Special, doesn’t mean you can write like A. N. Martin. But doubt isn’t just a personal insecurity to torture yourself with. You can use it to identify the areas of your work which aren’t working. Reading things aloud is a great way to exercise doubt. I always find I race over the parts which I subconsciously know need improvement. I’m assuming the same thing works for music, or being cast as Hamlet in the school play. 

The biggest cheerleader on the subject of productive doubt is George Saunders, whose whole deal is basically gruelling, repetitive, sentence-based revision on a level calculated to stagger humanity. I think his advice about tuning into your doubt during the editing process is applicable to lots of things, including making a good sauce or cutting your hair. I also like his story about “avoidance points”. But knowing how something is wrong doesn’t mean knowing how to fix it. Maybe there’s something fundamentally unsatisfying about the denouement of your murder mystery? Maybe your taut supernatural thriller is begging to be reimagined as a sitcom about a haunted bed and breakfast. No worthy problem is ever solved on the plane of its original conception, and that’s as true for B grade fantasy epics  as it is for quantum physics. 

‘If you regularly enjoy The Spinoff, and want it to continue, become a member today.’
Toby Manhire
— Editor-at-large

I’m not saying you should aim for perfection. There are times when messy is better. You can overwrite your work so much it becomes tediously sleek and joylessly articulate. Sometimes you need to give a seven minute primer on sedimentary rock formations in order to pull off your geologically complex joke about the Flintstones. 

You will get it wrong, no matter how hard you try. Even if you successfully eliminate all present doubts, you’ll only discover new, retrospective doubts that it didn’t occur to you to harbour the first time. But in order to have doubt, first you have to believe. 

Doubt is a useful counterbalance, if you’re already off the ground. The doubt that stops you trying is the kind that does nobody any good. If you haven’t been through Dante’s nine levels of Steiner School, it can be hard to summon that kind of confidence from thin air. The best way to become confident is by increments, or whispering I am Bill Gates CEO of Microsoft each night before bed. You could also find a few people you trust to give you critical feedback and encouragement. But you may as well befriend your doubt. In the end, it’s just a backwards manifestation of faith. 

Best of luck,

Hera 

Want Hera’s help? Email your problem to helpme@thespinoff.co.nz