It Aint Easy Being Small


New Zealand is a small, isolated nation and needs to design itself accordingly. We should avoid uncritically imitating larger nations.

Among the news websites I read is a British daily which once a week interviews a local writer on the books they grew up reading and which influenced them. That’s fifty-odd a year; most interviews are of high quality – rarely are the subjects mediocre.

If a New Zealand news-site were to do the same, it would struggle, on a per capita basis, be able to identity such four attractive writers a year; the remainder would be mediocre – which my thesaurus couples with ‘banal’, ‘indifferent’, ‘pedestrian’, ‘undistinguished’ and ‘uninspired’. Fortunately, no local news-site tries but there is a tendency to assume that many more of our writers have achieved levels as good as that British fifty.

True for our politicians. It is unreasonable to assume that we have the same number of competent ones as larger democracies. Not surprisingly Stuff recently concluded that the majority of a New Zealand cabinet is very average. (Even so, many would think that the grades were generous or Stuff’s average standard was low.) That has been true for just about every cabinet I can recall. Yet we pretend that most New Zealand politicians are of some ability.

That is also true for our business leaders. This is not to argue that we have no world-class writers, politicians or business leaders (or economists for that matter), but we have far fewer than we pretend. With 46 weeks or whatever to fill in, we upgrade a lot of mediocrities to a significant eminence they do not deserve, debasing the currency.

As M. K. Joseph wrote 70-odd years ago, we ‘worship the mean, cultivate the mediocre.’ But by doing so, we downgrade our exceptionals and discourage striving to achieve better, insulating our judgement from international standards while pretending we are up there with the best.

Sport offers a different approach. We do not select politically correct mediocrities for our national teams. Because we care about sport, we do relatively well (and women and the disabled seem to do even better because we have put more effort into promoting them relative to other countries).

In some sports we are near the top – rugby for instance – because most other countries do not play them to the same extent. Soccer is perhaps the most universal sport (if we allow for a relative lack of interest in the US – it’s growing). I am not uncomfortable that the All Whites are currently 87th and the Football Ferns 35th in FIFA’s world rankings, given the nation’s size. (Of course we have had some international class soccer players, but they play overseas.)

It’s not just population. NZ soccer has hardly a competitive local league. Or to go back to the opening example, it would be difficult for a NZ journalist interviewing four excellent writers a year to hone the skills the British equivalent does on fifty. Moreover, there are at least a dozen capable British journos pressing to do the job instead.

High quality is not merely innate ability but there also has to be an environment which cultivates excellence. It is a miracle that we have world-class writers and businesspeople and even politicians who live here. On the other hand, if we promote mediocrity we will achieve mediocrity; the best will tend to emigrate.

Sadly, the mediocre often have the power to block excellence. When did you see an average professor make way for an up and coming academic? It is not only that we have little career development for public servants; some get blocked and go overseas, while we import some not very successful chief executives. (The quality of management is probably a key factor in explaining why we have poor productivity – but this is not a matter for public discussion.)

The small size can mean we end up with monopolistic gatekeepers who control a key topic and allow no competition. In one case, an eminent academic said they would not have approved a doctorate if they had known the extent to which the holder ended up controlling the public discussion. One is haunted by Ronald Hugh Morrieson, one of our top novelists who said ‘I hope I’m not another one of these poor buggers who get discovered when they’re dead’. There are others like him who will be remembered long after the gatekeepers who suppressed them are forgotten.

While competition is a key element in promoting intellectual excellence, it must be a culture of creative innovation rather than lazily promoting a conventional wisdom which lags behind the changing world. It needs to avoid the colonial-inferiority mentality where so often the mediocre lapse into imitating uncritically the fashions beyond our shores.

Similarly, competition is not always a solution to our economic woes. When it was proposed to break up the Electricorp monopoly, I looked around for evidence of the optimum size of a firm in the industry. (In a competitive market all mature firms will be operating near the optimum.) The US electricity market is reasonably competitive – there are caveats. The typical size of one of their businesses was about the same size as the entire New Zealand industry. It did not make sense to imitate the American electricity market. We did.

Older readers will recall the opening of home milk delivery to competition (younger ones need to know that once a monopolist delivered bottles of milk each morning). The promise was for lower prices; the reality is that home delivery no longer occurs. Rogernomes repeatedly promised lower prices from competition. They never happened. (Sometimes there were gains in the quality of the services being supplied.)

An extra player when there are only a few businesses in the market may add to ‘competition’ but it usually does not lower prices. Adding an extra commercial bank or supermarket chain is unlikely to lower prices or profits. Oligopolistic markets do not behave like purely competitive markets with lots of players and ease of entrance and exit. After the new entrant arrives, we will still be grumbling about the banks and supermarkets.

New Zealand is going to have fewer players and less effective competition than the economies we admire. Rather than mindlessly imitating, we need to devise our own, perhaps unique, form of market regulation. We have to think small when we are designing New Zealand systems rather than imitating the big. It may be small, but thinking for ourselves is ambitious – and it is hard.

Summer Thoughts

This column is a response to the complaint that we have poor economic performance because we have summer holidays. It praises them.

Summertime, and the living is easy. We used to take our kids to Coes Ford on the Selwyn River near Christchurch for mucking around in the water. Great memories. Apparently, you can’t nowadays. Often the water is too low because of the draw-off by the thriving dairy industry and, in any case, one is advised no swimming because of pollution. True for other Canterbury swimming holes.

The Canterbury economy is currently booming – more so than much of rest of the country – in part because of that dairy industry. The downside is that, like elsewhere, the province has lost some of its past recreational areas. Of course there are alternatives; building swimming pools may add GDP, but they would be less necessary had we Coes Ford and all.

GDP growth is not only associated with environmental loss. How much is our road building program about easing the congestion on previously adequate roads which have become congested by the increased use of cars and by the bigger population?

This list is already sufficient enough to remind us that economic growth is not always an unmitigated benefit. The technological innovation which drives growth is neither ethical nor unethical. A laboratory may produce a life-saving medicine, or it may produce a recreational drug which is addictive and destroys life. Businesses which implement the innovations are not particularly ethical either. Their managers may be, but the profit driver does not give many rewards for ethical achievement except when there are outside pressures on it.

For over two millennia philosophers have pondered on the connection between private ‘vice’ and public ‘virtue’. It was Adam Smith who explained how competition between self-seeking individuals could result in the public benefiting. (Because he had a theory rather than just piety is treated as the ‘father of economics’.) But he said ‘frequently’, not always. For a quarter of a millennium, economists have investigated when competition has a beneficial outcome to the public. There are numerous caveats to get favourable outcomes, far more than the conventional wisdom acknowledges. That is why the government is continually intervening to align market decisions with the public good.

Looking over that last quarter of a millennium, one can conclude that those living in affluent nations at first benefited from economic growth, albeit at a cost of environmental degradation and human disruption. My sense is that the proposition is less true today, although it may still be true in less affluent economies (and for the poor in affluent economies).

Even so, technological innovation continues and businesses seize the opportunities it creates. But we may be no better off if the unmeasured downsides offset the GDP gains. Yes, we have more things, but it is not evident we think we benefit as a result.

We may be better off with more opportunities which liberate our capabilities – the luxury of being able to reduce work and income to, say, write a novel if that is what you really care about. We may be better off with widening experiences. You may visit by web the Botticelli exhibition in Florence – once you would not have heard of it anyway and, in any case, the showing could not have been brought together in the past. (But there is a offset of losing experiences like Coes Ford.) A lot of people feel better off if they can demonstrate they have more things than their neighbours have. (The term ‘conspicuous consumption’ was coined an eighth of a millennium ago by Thorstein Veblen.) It enables individuals to express their diversity. One obvious wellbeing gain has been increased longevity with proportionally fewer life-years of disability.

Yet the conventional wisdom is that we should concentrate on increasing GDP. The Luxon Coalition Government seems to have nailed its justification that it will do so. (There may be an upturn this year – it will be well trumpeted. Even so the per capita level will be lower at this year’s election than it was when the coalition took over, three years earlier.) There may be wellbeing gain from a little less unemployment. What it is unclear is the extent to which the government is willing to sacrifice the nonmarket downsides in its pursuit of economic growth.

This leaves the election year economic rhetoric in a strange situation. It will centre on economic growth performance; people will say that the growth is important but the likelihood is that it will not be much of a factor in determining their political choices. Which is one reason why the political parties are likely to turn to cultural issues – explicitly or by dog whistling. There will, of course, be the usual struggle between who should be winners and the consequential losers – although that is in unmentionable in polite company. In the end, voting may reflect assessments of who will govern the least badly.

What I do not see is a paradigm evolving which focuses on a replacement to the emphasis on uncritical economic growth. That involves some notion of wellbeing rather than just the consuming more. But the notion is a bit woolly and requires a lot of careful thought.

Our grandchildren may have more things than we did, but since I don’t expect to see them swimming in Coes Ford; they may be worse off.

Consolidating the Fisc

The government is still borrowing for consumption.

I do not think anyone understands the politics of the spat between Ruth Richardson, who chairs the Taxpayers Union, and Nicola Willis – including those two. The underlying economic issue is analytically clearer.

The technical term for it is ‘fiscal consolidation’. It is easiest to understand it by focusing on the government’s net worth the value of its assets less its debt. No measure is without its problems, but net worth is a better measure than net debt as I explain here and here.

In a typical year you would expect the government to increase its net worth, accumulating more assets than debt. A government needs to allow for a growing population and for a growing economy. It would be saving and investing some of its income just like the prosperous household of a working family. If it is not saving, it is borrowing for consumption, which is likely to be imprudent (except in an emergency) and unfair to future generations when the cost of the borrowing comes to charge. We expect the government to save except in emergency years. In practice it usually does.

The government savings series goes back to March year 1948. (Dennis Rose has done the sterling work but nowadays both Treasury and Statistics New Zealand provide updates.) In 2010-2013, there was a three-year ‘emergency’ period of slight dissaving, because of the shocks of the Global Financial Crisis and the Canterbury earthquakes.

However, there was a seventeen-year period from 1978 to 1995 in which the government dissaved every year – spending more on consumption than its revenue. This was the Muldoon era followed by Rogernomics. There were no shocks so severe that could justify the period as an emergency. Rather, Robert Muldoon was asking future generations (you and me) to fund some of the consumption of his times, increasing debts and running down assets. The Rogernomes reduced the level of dissaving but did not get back into the black. It was Ruth Richardson who did, by savagely cutting real levels (which doubled child poverty) and other spending. Getting back to a government surplus (which increases Net Worth) is called ‘fiscal consolidation’.

We can trace the recent path of Net Worth in Treasury’s Half Year Economic and Fiscal Update 2025 (HYEFU). The Treasury’s independent forecasts  have the economy running flat following a biggish fall in early 2024; per capita GDP is not expected to return to the September quarter 2023 peak until December 2026 which means three years of stagnation.** The orthodox explanation for this stagnation is that the Reserve Bank had to squeeze out with high interest rates the inflation which was a consequence of responding to the Covid pandemic.

Stagnation was the cost of the squeeze. HYEFU thinks that by end 2026 the economy will be growing at a rate similar to the pre-Covid growth rate. But the GDP track will be about 7 percent lower.

Last week, I described the difficulties of fiscal management in Britain as a consequence of the Brexit shock. Our Covid shock was of a similar magnitude; it faces Willis (and Grant Robertson before her) with severe fiscal management challenges.

In particular, she has been borrowing for consumption (as did Bill English facing the GFC and Canterbury earthquake shocks fifteen years ago). HYEFU expects Net Worth to fall every year from $182b in June 2024 (the last year fiscally determined by the Ardern-Robertson Labour Government) to $169b in June 2029.* That is five years of dissaving; five years when we have been borrowing to consume, rather to invest.

In her recent Budget Policy Statement Willis defended her fiscal consolidation strategy as a squeeze. Even so, there has been substantial cuts to some government spending.*** Because of the international situation New Zealand is to spend more on the military. The rise is from $3.2b in Labour’s last year to $3.7b in 2030. Even so, as a proportion of GDP, defence spending is falling from 0.75 percent of GDP to 0.66 percent in 2030. Yet Willis highlighted this as an achievement. (Don’t tell Donald Trump.)

Richardson is advocating more cuts (including measures which would put a lot more children into poverty), in effect repeating her 1990-1 one-off slash. While she is proud of her courage, her National colleagues were probably a bit more rueful because her measures were major contributors to National losing a quarter of its voter share in the following (1993) election. (It sneaked back into government because it was the pre-MMP era with the Left vote deeply divided.)

We are much closer to the next election; the 2026 budget will be just six months before it. Willis probably judges that the sort of cuts the Taxpayer Union wants would be electoral suicide, even more damaging politically than Richardson’s.

In fact, HYEFU does not bode well for the Luxon Coalition Government’s prospects. Yes, it expects some economic growth towards the end of 2026 but unemployment will remain around 5 percent of the labour force. The government is already committed to cutting back public spending, and Willis is promising further cuts. There appears to be no room for sweeteners such as tax cuts, just unimplemented promises.

While HYEFU considers some risks in its forecasts, it does not consider the possibility an international financial crash. Treasury’s grim response is likely to be that if the crash is as big as some fear, then all bets are off. And yet the possibility of a major crash hangs over us. An economy which is already borrowing for consumption will have reduced room for responding to international chaos. That is one reason for the fiscal consolidation; the other major one is long-term sustainability.

There is an irony in the dispute between Richardson and Willis. Had there not been the threat of a major credit downgrade, Richardson would not have needed to slash.  We now know there was no major shock for more than a decade, so a Willis squeeze would have worked with much less political damage. On the other hand, we will be astonished if the next significant shock is over a decade away, so Willis pursuing a Richardson slash makes more sense from this perspective than it turned out in 1990-1. (The ‘slash’ need not be cutting further government spending as the Taxpayers Union has advocated; it could be increased taxation.)

While HYEFU is a sober presentation, does one detect in other Treasury-sourced statements an increasing concern about a nearing great international financial crash? It is certainly anxious about the need for faster fiscal consolidation.

*The Net Worth to annual GDP ratios are 43.9% in 2018 when Labour took over, 43.3% in 2024, and 32.2% in 2029 and in 2030. The ratios may not be inflation-adjusted.

** The HYEFU forecasts were prepared in October. I doubt that Treasury would dramatically change them in the light of the recent September 2026 GDP release which suggests the mild recovery which it is forecasting.

*** Between the 2024 and 2030 fiscal years the following areas are projected to fall (in nominal terms – further in real terms):

Core government services (down 24%)

Transport and communications (down 11%)

Economic and industrial services (down 26%)

Heritage, culture and recreation (down 11%)

Primary services (down 3.5%)

Housing and community development (down 37%)

PS. I shall take next week off; returning to columning in the new year.

Review of Adam Smith’s Islands: New Zealand’s Incomparable Restructuring: 1980-1995 by John C. Weaver.

Journal of New Zealand Studies; NS40 (2025):

Critics of the restructuring of the New Zealand economy in the 1984 to 1993 period have suffered from there being no good defence of the changes that were made. There are memoirs by various actors and the odd academic article, but they do not address the two elephants in the room. Namely: why was the restructuring associated with the decade of a stagnant economy (and why were there no changes in the underlying growth rate afterwards) and whether it was necessary to downgrade the role of equity in economic policy and substantially increase economic inequality? One might therefore welcome a study by Canadian historian John Weaver, a Distinguished University Professor at McMaster University. But one will be greatly disappointed.

Weaver relies heavily upon conversations with, and the archives of, Roderick Deane, Roger Douglas, Michael Bassett, Stan Roger and David Caygill but he does not seem to have talked to any informed critic, a failure compounded by a cavalier coverage of the literature. As far as I can judge, the omissions are from ignorance rather than bias. Extraordinarily, his bibliography does not include Douglas’s Unfinished Business (1993), which, one would have thought contained Douglas’s most profound reflection on the politics of the restructuring. Nor does it refer to Hugh Oliver’s article ‘The Labour Caucus and Economic Policy Formation, 1981-1984’ (1989) based on Douglas’s archives, which sets up the background to the Rogernomic era.

The book is primarily based upon archival material, especially those of the aforementioned. Weaver is a historian, so he is comfortable working with archives and personal papers, but does not seem aware of their limitations. If the period of interest had been, say, the Tudors, one does not have much choice of reasonably reliable information other than the documents and so Hilary Mantel had to resort to fiction while being consistent with their evidence. But she would have leaped at the opportunity to interview Thomas More, say, even though there is a view that she was less than fair to him.

A document has to be taken in a context. The Sunday 17 June 1984 Treasury recommendations to Robert Muldoon for measures to deal with the run on the New Zealand dollar which began on 15 June, the day after Muldoon called the 1984 election, would not be Treasury’s proudest effort. Weaver does not discuss it, but it is a good illustration. It was produced in a hurry but, more importantly, it had been preceded by discussions with Muldoon, who had already indicated what options he was willing to contemplate. Thus the document was not standalone but part of a dialogue. Many of the archives Weaver cites are similarly part of a dialogue and need to be evaluated in this context.

Weaver also said he had ‘conversations’ with some of the Rogernomes. Not all: Graham Scott is a notable omission and while Roger Kerr predeceased the study, he certainly deserved more attention than three references in the book and nothing in the bibliography; there were people close to him would have been good sources.

Weaver sometimes seems cavalier with the records he uses. There were assessments attributed to them which surprised or intrigued me. Looking at the references, it turned out the assessments did not come from the record but were Weaver’s own, although that is not clear in the text. One does not object to an author presenting her or his own views, especially in such a controversial area, but the duty of the dispassionate scholar is to distinguish them from the narrative. Perhaps Weaver was so enamoured with Rogernomics that the scholar was not always able to distance himself from their rhetoric. He can be obsequious, as when he quotes, without comment, an anonymous source describing Douglas as a ‘genius’ (p. 388).  While Douglas had some impressive political skills, he would only be judged a genius by someone who was very distant from that status.

Weaver readily dismisses opponents of Rogernomics with the Rogernomes’ misleading descriptions. Anderton is described as a proponent of deficit financing (which was not evident in his time in the Clarke-Cullen cabinet), ignoring that when the Rogernomes cut taxes they would leave a deficit hidden by the cuts being introduced halfway through the fiscal year. They may have believed that the economic growth that the taxes were meant to generate would provide the revenue, as do those holding the views the Rogernomes criticised. The following year they would scramble to restrain expenditure or invent some mysterious accounting device which hid the underlying deficit; Ruth Richardson’s 1991 ‘mother of all budgets’ was partly the result of their deficit financing.

While published by an academic publisher and with almost a hundred pages of notes and bibliography, the book does not really meet scholarly standards. The manuscript does not seem to have been discussed much with knowledgeable New Zealand scholars, which may explain the numerous irritating factual errors that slipped past the Canadian editor and the failure to understand New Zealand practices. One is reminded of the FIFO, the Overseas Expert who ‘flies in and flies out’ and, in between, gives polemical seminars at a more relaxed standard than he or she would ever dare to scholars at home.

The book is a bit of a potpourri and can jump around from topic to topic and period to period. How to review the book other than in a page-by-page critique as its editor should have? Briefly, the opening is three chapters on the politics of restructuring from a Rogernomics perspective omitting any reference to the other side’s case; there were mistakes and deceit on both sides. Little attention is given to the critical feud between the Douglas and Lange offices. That would have required more oral history – of participants on both sides – and access to memoirs and diaries which Weaver did not pursue. Had he done so, Weaver would have met the social-democrat modernising discussed below.

Part Two, the Macroeconomics of Restructuring, is six chapters. It starts with monetary policy, perhaps signalling Weaver’s commitment to monetarism. It’s a curious chapter beginning with a general history of monetary theory from the nineteenth century, but omits the particularity that New Zealand was once on a sterling exchange standard, which is still a useful background for understanding New Zealand’s monetary situation during, say, the Global Financial Crisis. This is but another example of the repeated feeling that Weaver has a poor grasp of the intricacies of New Zealand’s institutional arrangements.

The so-called macroeconomics section includes taxation, corporatisation and privatisation. There is a Rogernomics convention that they made no mistakes. So there is no discussion, for instance, on the Telecom privatisation which skipped standard parliamentary scrutiny – it was treated as a budget bill – which meant the private monopoly had no adequate regulatory framework; it took two decades to address the monopoly’s excessive profitability and the poor innovation record which resulted.

Disappointingly the book gives little attention to the ending of border protection which modernisers argued was necessary given the diversification of exports and the changing global economy and was the reason that so much internal restructuring was needed. A discussion on fiscal consolidation – one of the significant achievements of the time – is omitted, perhaps because it was led by largely ignored Treasury Secretary Scott. More generally, the focus on politicians as heroes – a not infrequent biographical trope – underplays the central role of officials – especially Treasury economists – and outsiders in the revolution. Admittedly, it is politicians who give the decisive political leadership to implement the policies, sometimes after having their minds redirected by non-politicians’ logic.

The four chapters of Part Three are more focused on the state: social welfare and changes to the public service together with labour relations (which really belong to Part II). I shall critique this chapter because it opens up the central problem when discussing Rogernomics. The chapter starts with what amounts to a Rogernomics rant at the wage setting system before the mid-1980s, simplifying its complexity. Stan Rodger, on whose papers the chapter is based, had more understanding because he had been the president of the PSA before he entered Parliament. Weaver seems to bracket Rodger with the Rogernomes, which further distorts the chapter’s account. Rodger was a moderniser but he was a social-democrat moderniser seeing the need to change arrangements within a social democrat context; the Rogernomes were neoliberal modernisers aiming to change that social and political context.

The labour movement – both its political and union wings – were torn between traditionalists keen to maintain the status quo, especially the relativities built into it, and modernisers who, observing the economy and society had changed during the postwar era, saw a need to change – in this context – the wage-setting arrangements. The wider internal political dispute substantially undermined the ability of the labour movement to resist the neoliberals; there is a sense that the tension remains unresolved today.

Rogernomes ignore the social-democrat modernisation option because it challenged their rhetoric that ‘there was no alternative’. They only contrasted their policies with that which existed before 1984. Weaver seems to agree with them, even including in the book’s subtitle the claim that the restructuring was ‘incomparable’, a dangerous notion for a scholar since scholarship is dependent upon explicit or implicit comparisons. In fact, but unnoticed by Weaver, Rolf Gerritsen and I did a comparison between Australia and New Zealand (1995). Any comparison is imperfect, and Australia had some advantages – and disadvantages – over New Zealand but the comparison demonstrates there was a social-democrat modernising option.

The tension between the modernising and traditionalist unions is evident in Weaver’s chapter on the labour market, but his Rogernomics perspective obscures the story. Rodger found his way through the tensions with the 1987 Labour Relations Act. But getting the greater flexibility that the modernisation required meant there was some loss of traditional relativities, while some well-established (traditionalist) unions were undermined. The difference between the social-democrat modernisers and the neoliberal modernisers is evident in the contrast between the 1987 Labour Relations Act and the 1991 Employment Contracts Act; Weaver seems hardly to have noticed the difference.

Yet, despite the book’s titular claim to be a ‘1980-1995’ history it has the barest discussion of what happened after Labour lost power in 1990. The 1990-1993 period is usually treated as the second half of the restructuring. It is not clear whether Weaver simply ran out of energy to complete the story – it was already a big book – or whether he was confined by his narrow sources. All the Rogernomes were out of power after 1990 (except Deane who was CEO of Telecom). The unfortunate effect is to give the impression that these were heroic men, but it disguises others who continued with the restructuring after the ‘heroes’ had faded. Focusing history on individuals neglects the processes which are driving the change and giving them the opportunity to achieve their heroism.

While I am grumbling about the title, it is anachronistic to associate the restructuring with Adam Smith. It is doubtful he would have supported all the changes had he been alive. After all, he also wrote The Theory of Moral Sentiment before, and became a commissioner of customs after, he published The Wealth of Nations.

I draw to a conclusion by returning to the two questions that Rogernomes hardly address. First, why did the economic changes we associate with Rogernomics make no discernible change to aggregate economic performance? I confess I have more invested in this question than a mere observer. I was trained in orthodox economics (although I have explored the non-orthodox) and have probably done more research on economic growth than any other New Zealand economist. When the Rogernomics policies (especially its market liberalisation) were instigated, I assumed there would a one-off boost to economic performance – in the medium term at least – and perhaps even some acceleration of the economic growth rate. Neither happened.

The Rogernomes have responded that they did all the things which their theory said would boost the performance so it must have occurred. That the evidence says otherwise indicates there is something wrong with their theory – with the theory I was trained in and respect. A subsidiary Rogernomics response is that not all their measures were adopted and improved economic performance only happens thereafter is just silly. Sufficient policies were implemented to have made a difference but any difference is not evident. This is not the place to go through a subsequent analysis, but it would help if a Rogernome would put her or his mind to providing an evidence-based answer to the performance question.

Insofar as Weaver addresses the growth issue it is in the third- and second-to-last paragraphs of the book’s conclusions – almost as an after-thought. The section starts, ‘I used Statistics New Zealand data that provided an annual index number representing productivity’ (p. 434). No source is cited. Nor does Weaver explain which measure he is using; Statistics New Zealand provides three. The confusion is compounded by his citing calendar years, whereas the Statistics New Zealand data periods are years ending in March. His periods do not match the Statistics New Zealand summaries and the remaining presentation is a jumble; there is no tabulation.

I went back to the Statistics New Zealand data. It is only for the ‘measured sector’, so it is not economy-wide (and even that is not comprehensive until from 1995/96). Moreover, the Statistics New Zealand series do not exist before 1977/78 so we cannot use them to evaluate long-term trends. Forgive me, if I don’t go through the tedious details – this discussion on growth is already almost as long as Weaver devotes to the topic without his obiter dicta – but per capita GDP was flat from about 1985-1994; that is the Rogernomics stagnation. New Zealand’s per capita GDP fell 15 per cent relative to the OECD average over this period and that deficit has never been caught up since. Not only does that greatly trouble me, and should trouble other economists concerned about growth, but it provides a background to the second question.

Was it necessary for economic inequality to be substantially increased during the restructuring? Weaver records that ‘reconstructed gini coefficients show a slight [sic] rise in inequality from the early 1970s to the early 1990s (from 0.30 to 0.40)’ (p. 214). It is not clear where he got the 1970s figure from the data does not exist since New Zealand’s household income series do not start until 1984. The is not in the 2011 OECD report, Divided We Stand, Weaver cites after the next sentence. Figure 1 of that report points to New Zealand having an exceptional increase in inequality between 1985 and 2008. It is comparable to Sweden’s increase but that took longer than the 1985 to 1993 period in which New Zealand’s happened, and was from a much lower base.

Weaver describes the increase as ‘slight’. That Figure 1, which has different estimates for the gini coefficients from his, shows the term is a nonsense. A shift in the gini coefficient from 0.3 to 0.4 represents a doubling of the standard deviation of a log-normal distribution. To simplify, the share of disposable income for the top fifth increased from about 20 per cent to 25 per cent in the period from 1984 to 1994; that represents a boost of their incomes of around a third relative to those left behind. Meanwhile, the share of income of the poorest fell; their absolute income did not return to its mid-1980s level until roughly 20 years later. The reader is left to decide whether this change is ‘slight’.

Surprisingly, to me anyway, the change was not a result of changes in market (factor) prices. As best as can be judged, the market price changes – we saw the anxieties about the wage rate dimension debated with the 1987 Labour Relations Act – were not particularly biased against any income strata in society. Rather the dramatic share changes were the result of the cutting of top income tax rates and the switch to the imputation method of assessing corporate taxation. The reductions were funded by higher taxes further down the income distribution and cutting benefit levels and entitlements. One consequence was that, while the economy stagnated, those at the top of the income distribution continued to experience real disposable income growth while others suffered real income reductions. That the elite were insulated from – and often unaware of – the hardship of those lower in the distribution says something about growing class divisions in New Zealand society. To round off the story, the tax cuts on the rich were initially unfunded with the resulting financial deficit (and resulting debt) a burden on future generations. The early initiatives of the National Government elected in 1990, which cut income support (benefits), shifted the burden from the future onto, especially, the poorest.

Despite the book’s title, Weaver does not cover these 1990 and 1991 measures. He even seems unaware of them, commenting that ‘a report from the United Nations Children’s Fund claim[ed] that starting in 1984 New Zealand had “demolished a cradle-to grave social welfare system in the name of economic efficiency”. This allegation is patent nonsense’ (p. 186). Weaver is reporting a statement made in 1995 after the Ruth Richardson-Jenny Shipley ‘redesigning of the welfare state’ (their expression) of 1990-91. The shift was from a European-style welfare state which aims to enable everyone to participate in society to one closer to an American one which aims to provide the minimum to sustain life and health. You may disagree with UNICEF but the term ‘patent nonsense’ is extravagant for a scholar.

The change was justified as being necessary in order to stimulate economic growth. The faster growth has not happened; perhaps its advocates should apologise. But there was also a moral dimension in the change. The neoliberals wanted to change the political economy of New Zealand. In this they were more successful.[1] Was that transformation and its increase of economic inequality a necessary consequence of the restructuring? Weaver does not discuss the question. At issue is whether social-democrat modernising was possible, with the hint from Australia of a cautious ‘yes’. What is unquestionable is that the significance of equity in public policy has been downgraded since the neoliberal changes.

What are we to make of Weaver’s book? The uncritical Rogernomes and their allies will be delighted with it; I am not sure what Rogernomes with a critical facility will think. Anti-Rogernomes and those antagonistic to neoliberalism will be outraged. Uninformed readers may find the text a bit tedious. Depending on their background, they may recognise enough signals to know the text is often unreliable and incomplete, this will be particularly a problem for offshore readers. No doubt some lazy or uninformed readers will use the material in their own writings, in part misled by the inadequate bibliography. Scholars will admire Weaver’s diligence and be grateful for his work from archives and personal papers but will soon find they have to check his findings against primary sources. As for me, I greatly regret that Weaver did not follow normal scholarly standards. The purpose of the book was ambitious, but the writer had neither the resources nor equipment to achieve his ambition. One does not object to a scholar having a strong point of view, but they should test it against the alternatives, especially by engaging with those who disagree with theirs.

[1] B.H. Easton, Not in Narrow Seas: An Economic History of Aotearoa New Zealand (Wellington: Victoria University Press, 2020).

Lessons from Brexit


How we connect economically with the world is critical.

The British Labour Government is struggling. Partly it is because they were badly prepared in opposition; the Conservative Government was making such a charlie of itself that Labour expected that it would do better and gave little thought as to how it might. But while it was ill-prepared in opposition – a common problem in New Zealand too – the miserable state of the British economy is not helping.

I dismiss the conventional wisdom that the poor performance of the economy is due to the government. It is more complicated. In the 1930s and 1940s governments discovered that they could make a difference by smoothing out economic fluctuations. Everyone then leapt to the conclusion that governments could make a difference to economic growth as well. The evidence is they cannot – well, not generally; I shall relate one exception below. Despite the evidence, the conventional wisdom insists they can, pointing out that productivity growth is low (usually true) but there is little evidence that the (often ideological) nostrums they advocate will work.

It is true that British economic productivity has been growing slowly. The relative slowdown seems to have started from about 2016, which, not coincidentally, is when the Brits voted by a narrow margin to leave the European Union, their largest trading partner. At the time, Remainers warned that an exit would damage the British economy, but they left the impression that the public would wake up in the morning after voting for Brexit to find an economic disaster. That did not happen. The economists’ forecasts actually were that there would be a reduction in output (GDP) in the medium term.

Britain is now in that medium term; those forecasts have proved broadly correct. There remains some uncertainty as how much the British economy has suffered from the disconnection but the range of GDP reduction following Brexit seems to be between 6 and 10 percent. I take the figure as 10 percent because it’s a round number. It amounts to a substantial loss of annual productivity growth of about 1 percent a year. (New Zealand’s long-run productivity growth has been about 1.5 percent annually.) The indications are that loss will continue.

Imagine the transformation to the standing of the British Labour Government, if its Chancellor of the Exchequer was told the British economy was actually 10 percent larger so that her government could spend 10 percent more, including hiking social transfers by that amount. If she was more restrained, she could add in some tax cuts, although private incomes would already be around 10 percent higher.

The irony is that the beneficiary of the current poor standing of the British Government has been the Reform Party, who, in an earlier guise as the United Kingdom Independence Party, had been a key advocate of Brexit. Reform now has hardly any economic policy ambitions (which is probably a good thing given how inadequate they have been in the past); it is a grievance party with a social agenda including strongly anti-immigration.

Brexit is a natural economic experiment where, for political reasons, an economy withdrew from a close association with its largest trading partner. As such, the experiment provides insights about the role of the external sector in medium and small economies. Much research is yet to be done; here is my take on what it may find.

My In Stormy Seas: The Postwar New Zealand Economy (1996) showed how the performance of a small open multisectoral economy depended upon its external sector. It has to trade its specialised production to acquire the foreign exchange to pay for its imports. It is no different from, say, Te Awamutu, which is a part of a wider economy and has a big import bill (although New Zealand has its own central bank).

The history of the New Zealand economy since the European arrival shows that its performance has been intimately affected by the world economy. Where domestically we can make an economic difference is by engaging effectively with the rest of the world.

Thirty years later, I see no reason to change the book’s theme. Among the things I have since learned is that the broad analysis also applies to medium-sized economies such as Britain (with modifications for the different economic structures).

I have also acquired a more detailed understanding of the mechanisms involved. The engagement of individual firms is not static but intricately dynamic, responding to a changing competitive environment posed by actors in other economies – if they don’t innovative, they perish.

Brexit was not simply a one-off shock. There was a process of adaptation. Initially it was about finding new supply chains and– often costly – ways around the extra barriers to trade. Then firms hunted for alternative markets (with limited success). Increasingly, businesses found better arrangements by moving activity elsewhere. I do not get the impression that there has been a marked increase in import-substituting industries in Britain. (Trumpism may find its tariff walls do not have a great effect either.) Post-Brexit, British tradeable businesses have been moving their investment and activities offshore, reducing the growth of British economy – hence the relative loss of GDP and counting.

Reflecting, I underestimated the importance of supply chains. Thirty years ago they were not so common (but the book has a discussion of the related intra-industry trade). New Zealand is not as well located in the world economy as Britain; we tend to be at the end of chains, not in the dynamic middle.

The Starmer Government is considering further cosying up with the EU with the aim of getting more involved in the business chains of its most significant neighbour. Any agreement is fraught with technical and political difficulties. It is unlikely to generate an immediate boost to the British economy but it may see a growth boost (as occurred to the peripheral economies when they joined the EU). There may not be a total recovery; it is easier to destroy than to build.

What are the implications for New Zealand other than reinforcing those conclusions of thirty years ago? As far as the supply chain lessons are concerned, I am pessimistic. Because of its location, New Zealand will be at their beginning and end, rather than in the middle where the action is.

The big concern must be whether New Zealand’s external sector will be large enough to support the population and affluence to which we aspire. Thirty years ago I was pessimistic about the future of the world food sector. Nowadays, with rising East Asian affluence from industrialisation plus similar prospects in other economies, together with the struggles of other food supply sectors, I am more optimistic. However, ours now faces serious land and water resource constraints; there are limitations of forestry and fishing too. (One gain is to substitute oil imports with local renewable energy.)

What exports can fill the gap? Probably not manufactures to any great extent. We are not large enough to have the economies of agglomeration which are integral to high value manufacturing.

Many services suffer from the same limitations. Tourism – a kind of primary industry – may be capacity-constrained; our distance may not help. Our international broadband capacity may generate a thriving IT service industry, as it has for India, but because of competition, remuneration may not be as great as we might hope.

The point of the last few once-over-lightly chapters is to demonstrate a problem which we are not addressing. Blindly leaving things to the market may as blindly immiserate the economy.

Is New Zealand the Best Place to Be?


The Minister of Finance says it is but, parochialism aside, are we doing anything to ensure it really is?

One of the necessary skills of a politician is to hold on to at least two contradictory positions at once.  * Consider how, following the report of 72,000 New Zealanders ‘permanently’ leaving the country in the past year, Minister of Finance Nicola Willis said that New Zealand is still ‘the best place to be’. Given the evident superiority of Australia on most material/economic measures – even though many of the popular comparisons are oversimplified – she is presumably arguing that New Zealanders experience higher wellbeing than Australians (a much more difficult comparison to assess).

Meanwhile, the same minister is amending the Public Finance Act to remove reference to wellbeing as a relevant government goal. Apparently the government is confining its economic management to material output, where New Zealand is doing badly, and washing its hands of wellbeing where it says New Zealand is doing well. Huh?

Let’s leave the resolution to the politicians but reaffirm the minister’s view that material consumption does not capture the totality of wellbeing. Consumption can go up and wellbeing go down (as we are reminded when GDP rises and yet another swimming hole of our youth is closed because of pollution).

Is wellbeing higher in New Zealand than elsewhere? People migrate for wellbeing reasons rather than just higher material income. I puzzled over this when I was writing Not in Narrow Seas: The Economic History of Aotearoa New Zealand. One chapter, ‘Why Come to New Zealand?’, concluded that, as best we can compare, there was not a lot of difference in real incomes between New Zealand and other migration destinations at the end of the nineteenth century. (Perhaps New Zealand, the most distant, was the least attractive.) Yet people came. Sometimes there were special reasons but the chapter concludes that the general reason was for lifestyle and opportunity. Immigrants were not attracted to industrial urban living (most came from rural backgrounds) and they saw opportunity (especially of acquiring their own land).

One assumes the outflow of New Zealanders reflects similar assessments, aside from those who are on OE and plan to come back. Some of those who plan permanent migration will be disappointed and return too. But the outflow signals that many see leaving New Zealand as a means of improving their lifestyle and opportunities. It is blind chauvinism to assume that New Zealand is the best place to be.

Of course, there are those who are keen to come to New Zealand, but most are from countries with levels of wellbeing lower than New Zealand. They are not places where New Zealanders are typically migrating, OE aside.

This raises an issue which I sketch here. Could we solve our population-aging challenge by higher immigration of younger people? The statistical projections suggest it might work for a couple of generations, after which the new migrants would be aging too, while their fertility levels converge to ours.

Immigration may solve the headcount issue (and provide enough staff for us when we are in our nursing homes). I’ll leave aside the question of to whether the economy can generate enough foreign exchange for the standard of living necessary to sustain the larger population; there is surprisingly little analysis on this.

But we also need to think about the changes to culture that a high migrant inflow would generate. It is already happening; the increasing cultural diversity need not be bad but there seems to be a limit to the rate at which a community can absorb different cultures; that limit would be exceeded if the inflow was enough to compensate for the age imbalance. Above that limit there may be a nasty backlash against immigrants, as is happening now in Europe and the US.

(This is a matter for sociological expertise, but an economist would be remiss not to draw attention to the challenge. I’ve had to think about it, because in the nineteenth century, the immigrant culture from Britain soon overwhelmed the culture of the indigenous population. It was not so culturally inflammatory – although some pretty harsh things happened to the first peoples – for two major reasons, as well as a high rate of intermarriage. Māori voluntarily and rapidly absorbed much British culture including Christianity, new technologies, market-based commerce, and literacy. (In the mid-nineteenth century proportionally more Māori were literate than settlers.) Second, the settler and Māori populations largely lived in different areas – town and country. Neither applies today; New Zealanders are not nearly as adaptable as Māori were, while migrants flood into the cities where New Zealanders live.)

Part of the solution could be the return of some of the New Zealand diaspora. It is estimated to be as high as a million although that seems to depend upon a generous definition. When I looked, the number seemed to be in the 300,000-500,000 range, up to 10 percent of the domestic population.

Of course, we want New Zealanders to engage with the world and OE is a vital part of that, although aspiring Ernest Rutherfords and Kiri Te Kanawas will hardly flourish if they remain based in New Zealand. But for lesser mortals it would better for us and them if they were back home. (The retired returning are not as attractive in this regard as those of working age; while they bring their retirement income, they add to the demands on the already limited workforce.)

And so we return to the minister’s claim that New Zealand is still the best place to be. Clearly many of the diaspora and those contemplating joining it think she is wrong.

What we may ask the minister is what her government is doing to improve wellbeing. Her response might be that it is trying to get the economy working better. But doing so is often at the expense of activities which promote wellbeing.

Once New Zealanders said we were the best place in the world for children. We would not be so confident of that claim today. Once New Zealand prided itself that it was a society in which people could get good jobs; we don’t today (we get them in Australia). Once we skited that New Zealand was an egalitarian society in which Jack was as good as his master (in those days we were not gender sensitive) while everyone had the opportunity to use their capabilities. Once we had a public service we were proud of. Once our cultural aspirations were supported by, promoted by and funded by the government. Once we had a social objective to enable everyone to participate in and belong to their community. Those onces seem to be a long time ago.

* Scott Fitzgerald wrote: ‘The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.’ I leave the reader to judge the extent to whether our politicians function well.

The Politics of Different Economic Strategies


The tensions between different approaches to the economy are surfacing as the election nears.

As we head towards next year’s election, the tensions between the coalition partners are becoming increasingly evident. There are always these tensions, even before MMP when there were but two significant parties, but they were hidden within the caucuses. For instance, before the 1984 election, Labour’s caucus was torn between two economic strategies which were papered over for the election campaign. (After it, a handful of senior ministers seized power and pursued the one we call ‘Rogernomics’, leaving the modernising alternative – more like that which the Clark-Cullen Government pursued – stranded.)

Today’s tension is most public in the different economic strategies of the ACT wing of the Coalition Government and the NZF wing. ACT’s is unashamedly economically neoliberal, although perhaps the current caucus does not have the same technical command as earlier ones did.

The NZF economic framework seems to be close to that of the traditional National Party (and its predecessor). I’ll call it the ‘Holyoake’ approach, after the Keith Holyoake governments which, sometimes with another prime minister, ruled almost continuously between 1949 and 1972. It was also Muldoon’s approach but the difficulties he faced following the 1966 wool price shock and the resulting inflation gave his record a bad reputation. (The challenges from the shock would have made any mode of economic management difficult, particularly if the politics was concerned with winning the next election.)

The Holyoake approach was highly interventionist, although the interventions were not always well designed. (The first wage freeze was imposed by Holyoake and Jack Marshall.) It was nationalist and centralist with a bias towards private enterprise. It had more in common with Labour’s economic framework than the rhetoric proclaimed.

I was struck by this commonality when looking at total government spending as proportion of GDP between 1939 and 1990. There was a rising trend but with one exception, you cannot tell in which years there was a National Government in charge, in which Labour. The exception was transfers – social security benefits and the like. As far as economic analysis is concerned, transfers are negative (income) taxes so – not surprisingly – you can see a distributional difference between National and Labour; the former favouring those at the top, the other those at the bottom.

What was surprising was that total expenditure (excluding transfers) did not seem to differ by the politics of the government. Perhaps a finer investigation than the database allowed might have shown patterns of differences within the total, such as National relying more on outsourcing or it jigging the expenditure spending towards the rich while Labour directed it more to the poor. The rhetoric of Labour being spendthrifts and National being more frugal is not evident in that data.

Yet the common agreement was not in the rhetoric. In opposition Labour bewailed National Government cutbacks although in government it too tried to control its spending. In opposition National criticised Labour for profligacy; in government it spent every dollar it had available.

The pattern seems to have broken after 1990. The secular trend of public expenditure growing faster than GDP ceased, while the public expenditure of the centre-left governments seems to have grown perhaps two percentage points faster than it did under the centre-right governments. This is a preliminary finding, but it probably means that reality now more closely aligns with rhetoric.

That there was a break following Rogernomics and Ruthanasia is hardly surprising. It might be summarised that there was no longer a consensus to minimise unemployment because neoliberals say the government can’t, that the distribution of income should be relatively narrow because neoliberals say pursuing that goal damages economic performance, that the state does not have a major role in economic management because neoliberals say the state overly infringes liberty.

The disagreements occur within the main parties as well as between them. Let’s call National’s disagreement as being between ‘Old National’ and ‘New National’. Old National is the modernised successor of the Holyoake approach (think Bill English). New National is closer to neoliberalism.

There were some neoliberals in the pre-1984 National caucus (although we did not then use the term) but hardly in its government policies. Ruthanasia introduced them in 1990 to 1993. Today the neoliberalism of New National is much more prominent. Recently a survey asked National voters to choose between a National-ACT coalition government and a National-NZF one. The balance favoured the neoliberal option.

NZF pulls the National-led Government towards the centre, offsetting the pull from neoliberal ACT. Being in coalition – a sort of public caucus – means swallowing dead rats, as Winston Peters has said NZF had to over the Regulation Standards Act. David Seymour has been quieter about the dead rats ACT has swallowed.

Peters’ handling of the Cook-Strait ferries replacement has been very much in the Holyoake tradition. Shane Jones is today’s promoter of a state development strategy. We think of Muldoon (and Bill Birch) as its Think Big promoters, but the postwar tradition began with the pulp and paper plant at Kawerau in the Holland-Holyoake era. Later there would be the steel plan at Glenbrook and the aluminium smelter at Tiwai Point, both of which involved substantial government interventions. (All were generally supported by Labour.)

While I am nearer the social democratic centre than most neoliberals, I am uncomfortable with NZF’s economic style. My preference is for restrained rational interventionism contrasting with its more reactive approach. Too often NZF goes down a popular and fashionable path without thinking through the implications and hoping that the rational analytics will eventually turn up. They don’t always and sometimes the implications turn out unpleasantly unexpected.

The populist approach is a centralist strategy which is integral to New Zealand’s governing culture. Even ACT directed who would provide school lunches.

Populist interventionism is not confined to NZF. National seems prone to it, especially with publicity which smooths over the reality – often accompanied by a hi-vis jacket. So is the Left. Once we relied on the public service to inject some rationality into the process of policy development; that is less true today.

We cannot know to what extent the economy will affect the 2026 election. The expansion of production might have begun (but there may be an international crisis). From some of the Minster of Finance’s signals the 2026 budget will be tight; it will not lack hi-vis jackets.

Of course, the economy may not have much electoral impact. There are populist issues, political ones (including party breakups), scandals and governing competence issues which may be more decisive. We can be certain, though, that the tensions about economic direction will continue after the election, and are likely to be exposed in the next coalition government too.

Should We Privatise More Government Businesses?

Pragmatic analysis says maybe we should, but we should also consider nationalisation. We should certainly consider better regulation.

An earlier column argued that we should make the government’s net worth – the value of its assets less its liabilities – more prominent in fiscal policy. Net worth is also fundamental when we are discussing whether an asset should be privatised or nationalised.

The privatisation boom began with Rogernomics, but as Roger Douglas later confessed, ‘I am not sure we were right to use the argument that we should privatise to quit debt. We knew it was a poor argument but we probably felt it was the easiest to use politically.’ Then we had no measure of net worth for the government accounts so it was difficult to explain that while privatisation would reduce public debt, it made no difference to net worth. (There was a similar difficulty explaining corporatisation, which involved the government reshuffling its balance sheet; this is all a long time ago, it but left a scar on those whose task it was to explain to the public what was happening.)

Douglas’s real argument was that private businesses would perform better in private hands. Actually, there is not a lot of evidence for his better-efficiency proposition if one compares the privatised companies with when they were publicly owned corporations. There is more evidence of gains when comparing the public corporations with the ramshackle public management of the Muldoon era.

Here is how I got to the pragmatic position on which the following analysis is based. In adolescence I believed the fashionable, but ideological, position that there should be more nationalisations. This was challenged by Arnold Nordmeyer, then leader of the Labour Party, who once asked a meeting of students whether they should nationalise everything including grocery stores (which had yet to be replaced with supermarkets). I concluded there was a line to be drawn where on one side the economic activity should be left to the private sector and on the other it was better left to the public sector. I have spent the following sixty years thinking about that line. While there are some clear examples for either side, there is much fuzziness about the exact line. People of goodwill can disagree, even using the same evidence.

At that time there was a debate over ‘Clause Four’ in the constitution of the British Labour Party which stated the party’s aim was of ‘the social ownership of the means of production, distribution, and exchange’. I was persuaded that the clause should be replaced by ‘the social control of the means of production, distribution, and exchange’.

Social ownership is a means of social control but it is not the only means and not necessarily the most effective one. Often that could be achieved by ‘workable competition’, where the state sets up a framework which results in the industry meeting the social goals in the market. The ownership of a store in a competitive market does not give the owner a lot of significant social control. That should be generally true for ownership in a properly regulated market. So there is no need to nationalise grocery stores.

Economists have a more rigorous notion of ‘competition’ than popular sentiment, which is happy to adopt the economists’ conclusions derived from competition theory even when they do not apply. A monopolist will say they are ‘competitive’, but that is not what an economist means.

To simplify, economists refer to pure competition when there are numerous firms in the market, that it is easy for them to leave and new ones to join and where customers are reasonably informed. The economist’s conclusion is that this result in maximum efficiency – use of resources to attain a given output – and, under certain assumptions (which are not always applicable) a high rate of innovation. There are downsides. For instance, the economic outcome may not be equitable. Some economists recommend addressing fairness with other policies; others just ignore it. (I leave you to work out their politics.)

Practically, many markets are not ‘competitive’ in this economic sense. This is particularly true in a small economy like New Zealand; we cannot adopt the conclusions from larger economies without considerable adaption. Instead, we look for ‘workable competition’, for market structures which are near enough to be fully competitive to reap similar benefits. Typically, that involves at least five firms (more if they have very different production technologies). With fewer than five, each firm can game one another at the expense of the public. So as numbers of actors in a market get smaller, the case for intervention gets greater. One form of intervention may be public ownership.

The stupidity of ignoring these regulation issues is illustrated by the privatisation of Telecom in 1989, when government did not even have a paper which addressed them. When, following the restructuring of the Post Office, telecommunications had been split out into Telecom, a publicly owned corporation, the government had directed the business to operate in ways which reduced the monopoly’s ability to exploit its market dominance. It had a natural monopoly of the lines connecting telephones which it could use to control service provision and exploit its customers. Sold off into the private sector, Telecom promptly abandoned those directions.

Some will tell you that Telecom was very successful, citing its profitability, but that may mean it was exploiting its monopoly and overcharging. There are three major indicators this was the underlying situation. First, business customers and consumers grumbled about Telecom’s services. Second, it manifestly failed to get the broadband rollout under way. Third, in order to achieve the rollout, the government separated the line part of the company (now Chorus) from the service part of the company (now Spark). The share price promptly crashed because shareholders knew that Telecom could no longer exploit its monopoly power. Today, Spark is a very ordinary company.

This example illustrates the difficulties of market design. Typically, the businesses which the Treasury Investment Statement says are being reviewed for privatisation are in complicated market structures. The pragmatic decision is complicated.

How the Treasury will work through the list is not known. First, it should sideline those agencies which primarily have social objectives which the market does not capture well, despite the government having put them into a corporate ‘for-profit’ form. They include HealthNZ and RNZ. Considering social objectives in other businesses is important too. I was not initially a fan for Kiwibank but I was persuaded by the failure of the commercial banking system to provide for the needs of modest income households.

Second, there should be far more attention to the regulatory framework than was given at the time the Rogernomics privatisation. (We especially need to move away from the nonsense that adding one more to a handful of competitors is a full solution to a lack of competitiveness.)

Third, a non-ideological review will also look at the possibility of nationalising (or re-nationalising). There is a case, for instance, for there being a single electricity business like Electricorp, rather than a handful of businesses gaming one another in the short term when the industry needs a long-term strategy.

Fourth, we should accept that the line between what should be in the public domain and what in the private domain is fuzzy and will be resolved in part ideologically (a.k.a. who you vote for). One consequence is that any analysis should not rest only with the Treasury, as it would if the only concern was the government’s debt position, but requires the involvement of other agencies including the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment and the Ministry of Regulation.

Apologies if this column’s conclusions do not align with your ideology. It should inform it.

Social Investment Analysis: Lessons From Social Cost Analysis


Presentation to Macrogroup Seminar, Friday 21 November, 2025; there is a PowerPoint that goes with this presentation. Available on request.

Social Investment Analysis is another example of project evaluation where economists use Cost-Benefit Analysis. By the 1960s New Zealand was using CBA in the evaluation of irrigation and transport projects when, for various reasons, market prices did not reflect social values. They include distorted market prices, externalities and the significant intangible costs and benefits. The CBA paradigm has been to convert the analysis to the neoclassical market model which has properties economists are well aware of, and which they use fluidly. CBAs came into major use evaluating the Major Projects of the 1980s (‘Think Big’); it became increasingly broadened to projects which have a strong social dimension with outcomes that cannot be valued in the market – ‘intangibles’. Social Investment Analysis is a recent extension.

Most of those in this room will have done CBAs and will be aware of sloppily done CBAs by others – sadly there have been too many. Today I thought I could usefully set out some of the trickier issues which I have come across in my own CBA work, especially from the health sector. Some of this will be familiar – allow the revision.

I shall particularly refer to the learnings from the International Working Party on the Evaluation of the Economic and Social Costs of Substance Abuse, which met over eight years and whose report, International Guidelines for Estimating the Costs of Substance Abuse, WHO published.

Social-cost studies are project evaluation studies. They are the first leg of a CBA. We used that approach so that someone who wanted to do a CBA on a particular policy could use a relevant social-cost study.

Throughout this paper, I use ‘social cost’ to refer to ‘net social cost’, that is offsetting any extra resources by any benefits. There were many social-cost studies on drug abuse before our work, but they were often done with little connection to economic analysis, with sloppy conceptualisation perhaps generating large numbers to meet the client’s desire to gain a media headline. The working party’s task was to provide a rigorous economic conceptual foundation. It consisted of a number of economists from various countries, but it also included epidemiologists and experts in substance abuse. I learned a lot from them; as one almost invariably does in complex issues outside economists’ expertise.

The Counterfactual

Because we are using an economic framework, the first principle we insisted upon was that ‘cost’ for an economist means ‘opportunity cost’ – the value of a resource in its best alternative use.  Opportunity cost underpins the efficiency notion in economics, but it is frequently overlooked by others – and even by the odd economist.

A social cost study – all project evaluations – involve a comparison between scenarios, typically the status quo and what is known as the ‘counterfactual scenario’. The opportunity cost is the difference between them.

Sometimes the choice of comparing the two scenarios is complicated. One of the substance-use experts pointed out that banning alcohol consumption in Pakistan had generated a cocaine problem.

When I did my social cost of alcohol misuse study, I chose to compare the status quo with a scenario where there was no alcohol misuse, since limited alcohol consumption is pleasurable without generating the externalities which cause the social costs. (Additionally, at that time low levels of alcohol consumption were thought to beneficial the imbiber’s health; this ‘J-curve’ affect is largely discounted nowadays.)

But when I did the tobacco use study the comparison had to be made with the counterfactual that there had never been tobacco consumption in New Zealand; terminating all tobacco consumption today would still leave an overhang of healthcare and early death from past smoking. (Dealing with such overhangs involved calcualtions of ‘avoidable costs’.)

Specifying the scenarios is critical. A recent social cost of alcohol study did not. It was criticised by another economist which resulted in a very confused discussion. As far as I could work out, the two were discussing different counterfactual scenarios but each was so vague about what they were talking about one could not be sure.

The Distribution of the Impact

It is also important to be clear about the frame of reference – whose costs? For instance, when we were evaluating the 1980s Major Projects we ignored their impact on those outside New Zealand.

Consider an evaluation of a new healthcare treatment. Do we do it from the perspective of the healthcare system, or the government – the fiscal approach – or the community as a whole? A more expensive treatment in the healthcare system may result in the patient getting back to work earlier or using less of government services provided by other government agencies, reducing the cost to the government even though it was more costly to the healthcare system.

The fiscal approach ignores the impact upon the patient and their associates, major concerns when the perspective is the whole community. Ignoring the community impact biases decisions towards cost shifting onto private individuals and households.

The working party recommended a whole-of-community perspective but struggled with distributional issues. There is no simple resolution without a welfare function. As is typical in distributional economics, there is no single statistic which summarises the equity outcome without imposing a value judgement.

It matters. During the Major Project debate there was advocacy from localities which benefited from a project being built there even if the rest of the country suffered – in effect the locality was being subsidised by everyone else.

Or consider the political challenge that Pharmac continually faces. There is always strong pressure from patients who may benefit from a pharmaceutical, irrespective of how expensive the drug is; it may not be cost-effective when the community faces so many other demands.

The working party concluded that the distributional impact of the counterfactual should best be dealt with by tabulating the social cost to the various distributional groups separately.

The Value of Life

The early studies on irrigation schemes and the Major Projects were narrow, assessed only by their impact on output. But even at that time, the transport system was concerned about road design which reduced accidents and saved lives, which involves imputing a value for the lives saved.

Lives saved is too simple a concept for healthcare. It may not make sense to prioritise a cheap treatment which extends life for a short period compared to an expensive one which eliminates the condition so that the treated life a normal length of life.

In alcohol misuse and tobacco use studies, tobacco kills far more people than alcohol. But tobacco deaths tend to be of smokers towards the end of their normal lives, whereas alcohol kills younger people by accidents. When I switched from measuring lives-saved to life-years-saved, I found that the disparity between the two effects was substantially reduced.

Even that is not the whole story, especially in healthcare. Today, many treatments are not about saving or prolonging life. They are also about improving the quality of life – a much fuzzier concept.

The working party chose to use QALYs, quality adjusted life years, as its measure for life improvement. QALYs warrant a seminar in their own right. Briefly, health states are scaled between unity, when there is a full quality of life, and zero, when there is death. Surveys of individuals’ subjective assessments are then used to score states between. In my experience the scale can be very clumsy despite the enormous amount of international work to refine it. [One of its world experts is New Zealander, Nancy Devlin.] However, the QALY measure is the best we have.

Putting a value – a price – on a QALY proves conceptually treacherous. When the economists on the working party were discussing how to measure it, an epidemiologist said, ‘We Moslems do not accept there is such a “value of life”.’ Another added ‘neither do we Catholics’.

That set the economists back. What are we trying to measure? Economists need the value to get useful answers. Set the value of life at zero, we would adopt policies/actions which would kill people; set it at infinity, the policies would try to eliminate death irrespective of the resources available and their alternative uses.

The discussion in the WHO report is tortuous but what it amounts to is this: recall that the framework being used is CBA, which has to put a dollar value on life in order to understand the tradeoffs necessary to make sensible resource allocation decisions. Since social-cost studies are intended to be foundations for CBAs, they have to use the same conceptual frame for the value of life.

We settled on the willingness-to-pay measure to estimate the value of life. These involve surveys in which individuals are asked how much they are willing to pay (in taxes) for actions (such as public healthcare) which may extend their lives. They are being asked to trade off the certainty of income now (thereby reducing the current quality of their lives) to increase to the quality life years in other circumstances. Valuing life in a CBA is about a trade-off, not an absolute value.

(Life can be valued in other ways. An earlier approach was to value it as the discounted future earnings of an individual. There are a variety of objections, including that it would mean that the value of a woman’s life is less than a man’s because she earns less over her lifetime.)

In social-cost studies which use willingness-to-pay estimates of the value of life the magnitude of the intangibles of the value of life usually far exceeds the value of the market resources, often exceeding annual GDP. What this suggests is that life is very much more important than material consumption, perhaps by a factor of ten. It is a humbling thought for economists; we are working in only a small corner of the human garden. (I think we garden a lot better than some of our colleague professions who think their bit of the garden is just as important.)

Miscellaneous

Before developing this as my final point, I mention briefly that there were other significant issues with which the working party struggled. For example, as in the case of the Major Projects debate, there was the choice of the discount rate for comparisons involving time. It greatly affects the magnitude of the social-cost estimate measured as a stock – the gee-whiz figure we like to discuss. Discount that figure to an annual flow and there is not too much difference. (Nowadays a sensitivity analysis is used in a CBA to investigates the impact of different discount rates.) 

Moreover, over time economic understanding progresses and the data base improves. (One of the benefits of social cost studies is to draw attention to deficiencies in the data base.) The working party did not, for instance, deal with the challenge behavioural economics poses of time inconsistency, which may be particularly important when there is addiction. Paul Krugman describes behavioural economics as the most revolutionary thing which has happened to economics for ages. Our paradigm was heavily anchored in neoclassical economics before the revolution.*

Conclusion

This paper reviews some lessons I learned over the years for CBAs particularly relevant to Social Investment Analysis. In another venue I would trace how the experience has played a critical role in my arguing that economists focus too narrowly on material output provided by the market and that we should be looking at a wider – if fuzzier – welfare notion, currently called ‘wellbeing’.

* The subsequent discussion raised how to deal with the impact of a personal event on others – a treatment delaying a death for a short time may enable family and friends to gather, grieve and adjust. The neoclassical paradigm pays little attention to interpersonal utility (although by treating a household as a person it allows interpersonal utilties with in it – but not in market transactions.)

The G85 Economy

The pressure to globalise is consolidating towards a global world in which the US is a marginal player.

There is a trope (or should I say ‘wishful hope’) by some that globalisation is coming to an end. While it may no longer moving towards a comprehensive integration, there are sites where it continues to expand. (There may be one major retreat which I discuss towards the end.)

Broadly, it seems to be going into a consolidation. Yes, there are some contractions (if you oppose globalisation you can point to them) and some expansions (the uncritically favourable list those instead). The rest of us of us observe that consolidation may still be an evolution.

The central issue is what Dani Rodrik called the ‘political trilemma of the global economy’. Countries cannot simultaneously have economic integration, democratic politics and full national autonomy. The more embedded global rules become, the less freedom governments have to set their own policies. Integration and sovereignty pull in opposite directions. Rodrik could have added that without a degree of economic integration, small countries, especially, cannot get the specialisation in their tradeable sector that their prosperity depends upon.

Trump acknowledges the trilemma as he uses America’s economic power to ignore the global rules, flouting the trading system’s most basic rule of nondiscrimination using tariffs and bullying as political weapons.

The reaction of almost every other country is just about exactly the opposite. With the exception of China, they don’t have the power to bully. (China uses its power much less openly; it is proving increasingly successful compared to the US.) As a consequence, all around the world negotiations which have stagnated for years are being clinched.

That does not mean the all the issues that had been holding up the deals have been resolved. Rather, they are being put aside. New Zealand may soon get the long-pursued trade deal with India, but it will not contain much about the sticking point of dairy trade. The same thing is happening in other trade deals. Trump’s bullying is generating an urgency to get them done. They are not ideal, but the diversification reduces America’s global economic power.

A complication is that the US has not been approving appointments to the World Trade Organisation Appellate Body so the court is unable to make binding resolutions of trade disputes. The issue has been evident for years – it is pre-Trump, going back at least to Obama. Increasingly trade deals provide arbitrations procedures. They work. New Zealand has successfully dealt with Canada over a ‘glitch’ using those in the Comprehensive and Progressive Agreement for Trans-Pacific Partnership (CPTPP).

Trump may be getting short-term wins but he is undermining the US in the medium term, nicely illustrated by his announcement that the US will not attend the next G20 meeting to make a political point (about the treatment of white farmers in South Africa, where the meeting is to be held). So be it. The G19 – we are not one, but we will be involved as much as we can – is symbolising a globalised world of (almost) everyone except the US. (Actually, G85 might be a better label; the US share of global trade is only 15 percent – smaller than its 25 percent of global GDP.)

Over the past eight years, more than four of every five nations – developed and developing – have seen trade rise as a share of their national GDP. In the US it has been falling. Whether the falling share is a good thing for the US – a large economy can be more self-sufficient than a small one – is for a later column. In any case, the aggregate measure may miss a critical element from the benefits of trade – the flow of ideas.

For example, the Chinese pharmaceutical industry seems to be developing fast. Trump is blocking access to Chinese innovation. Not only will this handicap the US pharmaceutical industry which, for instance, heavily draws on the European one, but it is likely to damage Americans access to new drugs and ultimately damage their health.

As mentioned earlier, there is one dimension where globalisation may be retreating. We are seeing increased resistance to international migration. Communities appear willing to consume foreign produce but unwilling to allow foreign immigrants. Arguably, the globalisation of migration peaked before WWI, but there has been rising pressures for greater migration in post-WWII. The EU, for example, has made the free flow of people central to its integration. (It is the main reason Britain left the EU.) But it increasingly rejecting flows from elsewhere.

The interfacing of new and old communities is not well studied by economists, so I must be cautious. One economic conclusion is that there is much less evidence of new migrants causing unemployment among the locals than is widely believed; after all the population increases demands and jobs while very often the new migrants fill positions where there are domestic shortages. (I greatly admire the energy and vigour many new migrants bring with them.) It is the social interface which seems troubling.

I expect we shall see increasing restrictions on and discouragement of international migration with increasing emphasis on high and specialised skills. Ironically, that flow can go both ways. America has been a great attractor. Some 40 percent of US Nobel prize-winners have been born elsewhere. Now some of the very able are leaving. One of the many beneficiaries are Chinese pharmaceutical industries.

New Zealand’s migratory history has been more open than many other country histories; about 30 percent of its residents were born overseas. It seems likely that our future will involve even higher proportions of people of Asian and Pasifika descent – many born here. But I do not discount what happened in the US. It was once the world’s greatest destination for migrants, but it is now turning its back on them.

New Zealand has long been aware of its limited weight in the international economy. The spaghetti of trade deals we have with many countries is indicative of our response; the biggest omission in our network is the US which reminds us that the problem has not been simply Trump. (We are so small and strategically irrelevant that we have not been a priority while suffering from protectionist urges in the US Congress.)

We have also built up relationships where trade may be integral but is only a part of the whole. When the Closer Economic Partnership with Singapore was announced in 2001 it seemed one trivial country aligning with another. (Perhaps that is a little unfair to Singapore, but you get the picture.)

However, the deal was not only a step on the way to the 2018 12-country CPTTP and the 2022 15-country Regional Comprehensive Economic Partnership (RCEP) are also sectoral initiatives which are plurilateral – designed to allow other countries join them. (More here.)

While diplomacy has been crucial in our trade negotiations, the trade deals also helped our diplomacy. A quarter of a century ago – well before Trump or our current collection of politicians – New Zealand was pioneering what may be the next phase of globalisation – open plurilaterism because we cant have multilateralism. The pioneering was because we looked to the future and thoght about our particular circumstances, rather than just followed the fashions.

Fiscal Policy Should Focus More on Net Worth


We should follow the Golden Rule of Fiscal Management and not borrow for consumption in the medium run.

Asymmetry is a crucial, but often ignored, feature of credit transactions. You would normally be surprised if a shopkeeper said they would sell you 1kg of apples but not 2kg, even if you offered to pay a higher price. Yet such a response is routine if you ask for credit. As past Minister of Finance Downie Stewart recalled, Keynes advised that New Zealand should borrow as much as it could to offset the Great Depression, but if Keynes were the lender he would probably not be prepared to advance New Zealand any more. That asymmetry is at the heart of the political power of the finance sector over the real economy.

It is not an unreasonable stance. The cost to the lender of a failure to repay a loan can be substantial. Sovereign borrowers prove especially troublesome because it is difficult to enforce debt repayment against a country. Lenders go to considerable trouble to assess the likelihood of such a failure. While they do their own assessments, they are often advised by credit rating agencies (CRAs) who, helpfully for us, offer a window into lenders’ thinking.

Those who have faced CRAs in their regular visits to give New Zealand a credit rating, report they look at the whole economy in an informed, firm but understanding way. Sure, they may be ideologically to your right, but they are not stupid. While they look at a spectrum of indicators, they do not fix on any one. More important, they have to convince themselves that the New Zealand Government has a credible commitment towards its debt obligations as well as an ability to service them including to manage its investments. In the end the lender gets its profit from lending (providing the debt is honoured), so they want to do deals.

That commitment need not be as crude as adhering to a debt-to-GDP ratio target, although that is the way it is currently signalled. However, that target does not make rational economic sense insofar as it results in poor investment decisions.

For example, the government is outsourcing public medical procedures to the private healthcare sector. That avoids the government having to borrow to invest in adequate public sector facilities – such as buildings and equipment. (Other resources – such as staff – are fluid between the public and private healthcare sectors.) Rather than borrowing and investing itself, the government is getting the private sector to do the task and then paying it for the debt servicing. It is keeping its debt-to-GDP ratio down but still paying for the investment. I am more relaxed about such outsourcing than many involved in the healthcare sector, but it makes no sense that the main driver of any decision should be an arbitrary debt target.

This is but one example of the absurdity of the debt-ratio target. Another is the tangle we are getting in over the need to invest in the water infrastructure. Very substantial public funding is required unless we privatise. (Overseas experience suggests that option is not very attractive, except to ideologists.) However, the government has been trying to keep any resulting debt off the books. No doubt the CRAs will see through the muddle because any public funding will be ultimately underwritten by the government, even if it does not appear in the public accounts as a legal contingent liability.

Nowadays, CRAs must be worrying because we are currently borrowing for consumption. (It does not matter whether the funds are spent on public items rather than private ones; a social security benefit is a transfer to household spending, while public expenditure could be paid for by higher taxation and less household spending.)

We can trace this via the Crown’s net worth, the total assets of the Crown less its debt (analogous to the amount you would bequeath to a subsequent generation). When you buy a house with a mortgage, your debt goes up because that measure does not include your current ownership of the house. Your net worth remains the same. It is far better indicator of your financial position. Similarly for the government. (Your bank will remain concerned about your net debt and you will keep an eye on it because you have to service it.)

The Treasury Investment Statement reports that government’s Total Net Worth was $192m (48% of GDP), falling to $183m (42% of GDP) this year (2025) and continuing to fall throughout the next decade. It projects net worth to be $158m (or 24% of GDP) in 2034 although that does not allow for changes due to inflation.

This means the government is consuming its capital, not adding to it. There are various ways of running down net worth including directly borrowing (or selling assets) to fund consumption or running down the stock of capital. (The latter is the reason why our water infrastructure is in a mess.) The New Zealand Government is not saving but over a six-year period it is consuming more than its revenue. It may be a legitimate decision for a retired person to do this but hardly appropriate for a government which expects to live forever.

The hard truth of our current fiscal stance is that additional borrowing is being used for consumption not investment. We overlook this when we focus on the level of debt rather than what we are doing with the borrowing.

How can we make the notion of net worth, with its focus on the distinction between public consumption and investment, more prominent in public discussions? The Treasury is doing its bit in its recent Investment Statement. *

A step forward would be for the government to adopt the ‘Golden Rule’ of fiscal management which focuses on net worth. (It is already implicit in the Public Finance Act even if it seems to be ignored.) Put simply, over the economic cycle the Government would borrow only to invest and not fund current spending. (The principle allows raiding a ‘rainy day account’ to prop up consumption in the short run after a shock but the fund needs to be topped up shortly after, ready for the next shock. It certainly does not envisage six and more years of raiding.)

The Golden Rule only covers the trend in net worth; there is still a need to discuss what level it should be. That should be welcomed.

This is the approach of a fiscal conservative. It would not disturb the CRAs and the lenders they represent. The explicit adoption of a Golden Rule would increase the credibility of the government’s fiscal management. The concern of the debt-to-GDP ratio would continue but it would be seen as a constraint under which the management operates, not the purpose of the fiscal management as too often it appears to today.

* Treasury’s Investment Statement 2025 was published as this column was going to press. It raises some important issues and approaches. Time and space means that I must leave them to a later column.

Promoting Net Worth

Presentation to Wellington Macrogroup Seminar on Debt policy. 7 November 2025; there is a PowerPoint that goes with this presentation. Available on request.

This paper argues that we should focus fiscal policy on net worth more than we do. The current obsession with debt ignores the difference between borrowing for investment purposes and borrowing for consumption purposes.

Asymmetry is a crucial, but often ignored feature of credit transactions. You would normally be surprised if a shopkeeper said they would sell you 1kg of apples but not 2kg, even if you offered to pay a higher price. Yet such a response is routine if you ask for credit. As Minister of Finance Downie Stewart recalled, Keynes advised that New Zealand should borrow as much as it could to offset the Great Depression, but if Keynes were the lender he would probably not be prepared to advance New Zealand anymore. That asymmetry is at the heart of the political power of the finance sector over the real economy.

It is not an unreasonable stance. The cost to the lender of a failure to repay a loan can be substantial. Lenders go to considerable trouble to assess the likelihood of such a failure. While they do their own assessments, they are often advised by credit rating agencies (CRAs) who, helpfully for us, offer a window into lenders’ thinking.

A Debt Target Distorts Investment

As Pat Duignan has detailed, CRAs look at the whole economy in an informed, firm but understanding way. Sure, they may be ideologically to your right, but they are not stupid. While they look at a spectrum of indicators, they do not fix on anyone. More important, they have to convince themselves that the government has a credible commitment towards its debt obligations as well as an ability to service them including to manage its investments. In the end the lender gets its profit from lending (providing the debt is honoured), so they want to do deals.

That government commitment need not be as crude as adhering to a rigid a debt-to-GDP ratio target, although that is the way it is currently signalled. The trouble with the target is that it does not make rational economic sense insofar as it results in poor investment decisions.

It makes no sense that the main driver of any healthcare decision should be an arbitrary debt target. For example, the government is outsourcing public medical procedures to the private healthcare sector. That avoids the government having to borrow to invest in adequate public sector facilities – such as buildings and equipment. Rather than borrowing and investing itself, the government is getting the private sector to do the task and then paying it for the debt servicing. It is keeping its debt-to-GDP ratio down but still paying for the investment.

This is but one example of the absurdity of the debt-ratio target. Another is the tangle we are getting in over the need to invest in the water infrastructure. Very substantial public funding is required unless we privatise. However, the government has been trying to keep any resulting debt off the books. No doubt the CRAs will see through the muddle because any public funding will be ultimately underwritten by the government, even if it does not appear in the public accounts as a legal contingent liability.

Borrowing For Consumption

Nowadays, CRAs must be worrying because we are currently borrowing for consumption. We can trace this via the Crown’s net worth, the total assets of the Crown less its debt. It is far better indicator of the government’s financial position. (Of course the lender will remain concerned about other indicators such the net debt.)

The government’s net worth fell from $183.5b in June 2023 (45.7% of GDP) to $179.3b in 2025 (41.1%). The 2025 Budget Economic and Fiscal Forecast (BEFU) expects a further fall through to 2029 (as far out as the projection goes). Unfortunately, the projection is not inflation adjusted, but in constant price terms BEFU expects net worth to be about $12b lower than today (down to about 35% of GDP).

This means the government is consuming its capital, not adding to it. There are various ways of running down net worth including directly borrowing (or selling assets) to fund consumption or running down the stock of capital. (The latter is the reason why our water infrastructure is in a mess.) The government is not saving but over a six-year period it is consuming more than its revenue. It may be a legitimate decision for a retired person to do this but hardly appropriate for a government which expects to live forever.

The hard truth of our current fiscal stance is that additional borrowing is being used for consumption not investment. We overlook this when we focus on the level of debt rather than what we are doing with the borrowing.

Net Worth and the Golden Rule

How to make net worth more prominent? The government is not going to because doing so would draw attention to a serious defect in its stewardship, although it has talked of a net worth target. Those outside the government need to give more attention to net worth.

A step forward would be for the government to adopt the ‘Golden Rule’ of fiscal management which focuses on net worth. Put simply, over the economic cycle, the Government would borrow only to invest and not fund current spending. (The principle allows raiding a ‘rainy day account’ to prop up consumption in the short run after a shock but the fund needs to be topped up shortly after, ready for the next shock. It certainly does not envisage six and more years of raiding.)

This is the approach of a fiscal conservative. The adoption of a Golden Rule would increase the credibility of the government’s fiscal management. It would not disturb the CRAs and the lenders they represent. The concern of the debt-to-GDP ratio would continue but it would be seen as a constraint under which fiscal management operates, not the purpose of the management as too often it appears to today.

The Next Crash

Queen Elizabeth II famously asked about the 2008 Global Financial Crisis, ‘Why did no one see it coming?’

In fact, many economists (including yours truly) had pointed out that the financial system probably would crash. But we failed to predict what would precipitate the collapse, how severe it would be and when it would happen.

This is partly a logical problem. If we knew when the crash would occur – say 30 February 2026 – then everyone would take action the day before – 29 February 2026 – which would bring the collapse-day forward, invalidating the prediction. Similarly, for the ‘how’ issue.

Consider a building which engineers think is prone to collapse. They cannot tell what the shock will be that does the damage nor when it will hit. It could be an earthquake, a fire, heavy wind gusts, a truck smashing into it …

These remarks are preliminary to the increasing references by reputable observers that various key financial markets seem shaky, including the American share market, the cryptocurrency market and the venture capital market for AI. (Currently, there is little attention being given to the Chinese financial system, but who knows?) There have been recent collapses by smaller firms, such as car-parts provider First Brands, which seem to be tied up with financing. Small collapses are integral to capitalist evolution – ‘creative destruction’ – but too many can be an indication of an impending financial crisis. There is the rule of thumb that the world has a good financial shakedown every decade or so. The last one was 17 years ago, which suggests the next might be a whopper.

Please read a lot of caution into the last paragraph. It is a time for prudence rather than hysteria.

The technical problems arise because market prices reflect subjective value – what people think assets are worth – not some objective value. Contrast the value of the house you live in with its market price. If the price were to change, your dwelling would provide exactly the same comforts as it did earlier. But you may also treat your house as a financial investment, hoping that an increase in its price will add to your wealth.

That is fine, until you start borrowing, speculating that the rise in house price will add to your wealth faster. True, but if the house price falls the opposite happens and your wealth falls faster. However, the value to you of living in the house remains the same.

It is this ‘leveraged’ borrowing which is key to understanding why financial crashes are so dramatic. Typically, the source of the loan is a financial institution which has borrowed to fund the loan. Depositing amounts to the institution borrowing from you.

The depositor does not usually know where their money is being on-lent, trusting the institution to make good decisions. Of course, it will make mistakes but the expectation is that they will be few and any losses are covered by the margin between the interest from your deposit and what they charge the lender.

It is not so simple. As we saw during the GFC, many financial institutions go into complex financing arrangements which no single person understands (including an economist), while the activities of the borrower may not be as transparent as they appear. As the Guardian article cited earlier remarks, ‘as ever in finance, it’s what investors don’t know that scares them most, and with First Brands, there appears to be plenty’.

Moreover, investors may borrow for investments with prices more volatile that their financial returns – if any. Examples are share markets where there may be dividends and cryptocurrencies where there are not.

The earlier shaky building parallel does not capture the way that financial markets develop over time. Suppose the building is continually being renovated and added to. It may not change the engineer’s basic assessment of its instability – strengthening is discussed below – but it becomes even more difficult to understand the details.

Hyman Mynsky described, in very top-down terms, the evolution of the financial system, with three phases.

During the Hedge Phase, financial institutions and borrowers are cautious. Loans are minimal so that borrowers can afford to repay both the initial principal and the interest.

The Speculative Phase emerges as confidence in the financial system recovers during the Hedge Phase. Borrowers no longer invest on the basis that they can pay both principal and interest. Instead, loans are issued for which borrowers can afford to pay only the interest. As the loan principal comes up for payment, they rely on being able to refinance (‘roll over’) their debt, borrowing the principal again.

As confidence continues to grow, investors move into the Ponzi Phase, in which they neither pay the interest on the loans nor repay the principal, relying on the capital appreciation from what they have invested to finance their investing. The asset-price appreciation that the Ponzi investors rely upon cannot go on forever, especially as it needs to accelerate. Eventually, Stein’s law takes its toll; if something cannot go on forever, it will stop. (Just before is known as the ‘Wile E Coyote moment’, when the cartoon character has run off a cliff but not yet realis

ed that there is no ground beneath him.)

Many reputable commentators think the current financial system is in its Ponzi phase, with the expectation that at some stage the bubble will pop at the ‘Minsky Moment’ after which everyone tries to get out of their investment commitments, turning them back into cash. Ponzi borrowers are forced to, because they have no cash; speculative borrowers can no longer refinance the principal even if they are able to cover interest payments. The prices of assets fall, with innocent lenders suffering as well as guilty borrowers.

We cannot predict when the Minsky Moment will occur. Nor can we prevent it, although there are some who try to prolong it – promising a bigger crash.

What we can do – in this small corner of the earth – is to take measures to mitigate what happens, just like making a building more robust to a shock. Much has done been since the GFC. The government tries to keep its debt down to give it freedom to manoeuvre. The housing market has been dampened down (although some are still trying to beat it up). The RBNZ has increased its supervision of the financial system (which may reduce your return on financial investments today, but mitigate your loss after the crash). There is the deposit compensation scheme, which shifts risk from small depositors to the public purse in return for an insurance premium. Regulation has reduced the amount of self-interested financial advice.

Much of this is like fighting the last war, adding protections we needed during the GFC. The next war will be different – who predicted the role of drones when the Ukrainian invasion started? The GFC was different from the 1928 Wall Street crash and the 1987 Stock Market (Black Monday) debacle, not only because the financial system evolved but because mitigating protections had been put in place.

As for you, the advice is surely to reduce your leveraged borrowing and your exposure to others’ leveraged borrowing. Even so, while the impact of a financial crash may differ for the prudent from the imprudent, it is not too fussy about whether one is guilty or innocent. The building comes down on everyone.

Underlying Economic Growth

What have the 2025 Nobel awards in economics to say to us?

One of the economic puzzles of human existence is that for most of it, going back to its beginnings, the material standard of living did not change much. Then, about 200 years ago, it began increasing; in some places more than others but material living standards in even the poorest regions are today markedly higher than in 1800, and higher than they possibly could have conceived of then.

Economic historians have struggled with what triggered this economic growth. There is no consensus but this year’s Nobel Prize in economics was half-awarded to Dutch-Israeli economist and economic historian Joel Mokyr for his seminal contribution to understanding it. (I deal with the other half below.)

There was a lot of ill-informed comment about the award. It was not the first Nobel in economic history; in 1993 Robert Fogel and Douglas North were so recognised. Nor was it the first award about the role of technology in economic growth; Robert Solow was recognised in 1987. However, neither they, nor their successors, tackled the question of the trigger.

The answers are outside narrow economics. Solow, who first studied sociology under Talcott Parsons, dismissed sociological theories as too fuzzy by economic standards. Mokyr was not as nervous.

First, he defined culture as ‘a set of beliefs, values, and preferences, capable of affecting behavior, that are socially (not genetically) transmitted and that are shared by some subset of society’, distinguishing culture from institutions by regarding culture ‘as something entirely of the mind’ which is ‘to an extent, a matter of individual choice’. By contrast, institutions are ‘socially determined conditional incentives and consequences to actions. These incentives are parametrically given to every individual and are beyond their control.’ (Economists have thought a lot about the role of institutions; its first Nobel economics award was to Ronald Coase in 1991.)

Mokyr focuses on the cultural shift which precipitated economic growth. Between the 16th and 18th centuries, a group of European intellectuals groped their way towards a new view of nature and knowledge in which by disinterested and open inquiry, nature’s secrets could be understood and then used to the benefit of humankind, nurturing the Scientific Revolution and the Enlightenment. The approach percolated throughout society, influencing individual behaviour. Once the notion became widespread that objective knowledge was possible and could be used to improve people’s lives, the emergence of self-sustaining economic growth became possible.

Scroll back to the period before. Have you noticed how its histories are dominated by warfare – as economically destructive an activity as humanity has invented? True for Māori oral histories, but also for written ones from other cultures. You get a sense that the point of human existence was seen to be in the honour which came from fighting (women hardly appear). Economists have tended to explain this by the lack of investment opportunities (although there was often a lot of conspicuous consumption of constructing large buildings – cathedrals and palaces – which may have stimulated economic activity but did not stimulate economic growth).

There was nothing particularly ‘European’ in this cultural shift – it just happened there first. Similarly, I don’t think there is anything particularly European in quantum mechanics even though it was pioneered by Europeans and Americans; today we acknowledge the contributions of Asians with Nobels too. (Perhaps as an aside, the first Nobel to a non-European economist was in 1979 to West Indian Arthur Lewis; I still draw on his insights.)

Mokyr then went onto to trace how this cultural shift transmitted into economic growth. Of course industrialisation happened in particular places which had the resources (such as coal in the English Midlands) and institutions (typically stable ones dominated by the rule of law).

As Solow saw, although initially only vaguely, this change in attitudes kept identifying new production possibilities – technologies – which meant that the same combination of labour and capital could produce more output (and new kinds of output). The new technologies lifted the material standard of living, much more than capital accumulation by itself.

Hence the second half of the 2025 economics Nobel award. Philippe Aghion and Peter Howitt describe a process whereby the new technology is introduced. It involves creative destruction – first identified by Joseph Schumpeter who would have received a Nobel had they existed when he was alive – in which firms die and new ones grow.

Crucial may be the willingness of society to allow this to happen. It may not be so critical when there is that accelerated growth phase through which many countries go. (New Zealand’s was in the late 1930s and 1940s; China’s may be coming to an end.) But during the period of sedate growth which follows, it is politically tempting to shore up industries and businesses (and regions) from the past. Their winding down and closure is socially painfully, especially to the workers involved.

In my view we need to recognise this pain and evolve a system of redeployment and upskilling – like the social unemployment insurance scheme the Ardern-Robertson Government was developing. That will only soften the disruption but it will not be eliminated. I am reminded of a unionist who was vociferous in opposition to the closure of his freezing works but some years later told me that it ‘was the best thing that happened’ to him.

Aside from the scholarly interest, is there a contemporary relevance in Mokyr’s findings? Didn’t the Scientific Revolution and the Enlightenment happen sometime ago? But is there not some reaction against it going on? I am not talking here of the rise of Romanticism which occurred shortly after the Enlightenment and pointed out that it did not cover the entirety of the human experience. As John Stuart Mill’s autobiography illustrates, both approaches are needed.

Rather the forces of the counter-Enlightenment appear to be rising especially in the US with its MAGA right but also in the woke left (except that is not as well-organised or powerful). Those tendencies exist here too.

They amount to a reversion to approaches which dominated a quarter of a millennium ago. Very often the holders of these archaic ideas do not understand what has happened since. Just because we (including me) do not understand quantum mechanics does not mean it is wrong. Indeed, applications of quantum mechanics are riddled through our everyday life. If you want to reject quantum mechanics, you should abandon your mobile. If you want to reject the Scientific Revolution and the Enlightenment, you should opt for the material standard of living which was normal for our ancestors for thousands and thousands of years.

So the second leg recognised by the 2025 Nobel in economics, creative destruction, is at the heart of modern-day living. Hence the resistance to change. But as Catherine Booth, cofounder of the Salvation Army, said, ‘if we are to better the future, we must disturb the present’.

I don’t think New Zealand is particularly prone to social inertia except that our small size makes it easier for the conservative leadership to resist change and to promote platitudes in place of insight and wisdom while excluding those with whom they disagree – and may be ahead of them – from their conversations.

That is why we have to maintain an open stance to new ideas and to the world. Mokyr argues the enlightenment transformation occurred because its participants were in a ‘republic of letters’ in which they corresponded across distances and time. MAGA seems to be turning its back on the openness, even repressing it. Let’s not join it.

Avoiding the Horrendous Fiscal Crisis.

Our current fiscal settings promise that we will eventually face a public debt explosion. A major cause would arise from the aging population. Is there anything we can do?

It has long been known that the ageing population would create future fiscal pressure. It was quantified in the first (2006) Treasury long-term fiscal projection and has been confirmed in every subsequent one. It is not simply that with relatively more elderly, the cost of New Zealand Superannuation rises markedly faster than GDP. The elderly also require more public healthcare and related social support much of which is today funded by others.

For the record, the just released 2025 Treasury Long-Term Projection calculates that given the current expenditure and revenue settings net debt would amount to two years of GDP in 2065.* Of course, the true figure is not that precise, but the order of magnitude is probably right. Whatever the ratio is, it will be acceptable to those expected to lend the debt to the government. Fundamentally, the current fiscal settings are not sustainable. A major contribution to the blowout is the aging population.

Despite the 2006 warning, very little has been done to address the challenge. Michael Cullen introduced Kiwisaver, a semi-compulsory earnings-related second-tier top-up on NZS but it will do little to reduce the fiscal pressure.

He also instigated the New Zealand (aka Cullen) SuperFund, in which the government invests financially now with the intention to draw down the fund as a bulge in the proportion of elderly comes through. Subsequent National Governments have not always paid into the fund in the way that Cullen intended.**

Meanwhile, the public remains impervious to the danger of a fiscal crisis. They seem to dismiss the challenge because they think it will not happen in their lifetimes. A consequence of Dornbusch’s law? Since the crisis takes longer to arrive than you think, you ignore it; when it  happens it will be faster than you thought and you will be very angry at no one taking preventive measures (but not angry with yourself). Today’s young-uns may wake up one day to find we are (or the world is) in an economic and financial crisis which requires their retirement prospects to be ‘unexpectedly’ and severely curtailed.

What to do? The first option is to do nothing and hope that action will have to be taken after we are dead, with the cost of our sloth falling on younger generations – that has been the approach of recent decades.

The second option would be to Americanise the pension system – to abandon NZS as it was originally conceived and is understood today, replacing it with an income- or means-tested minimal income support for the poorest and leaving everyone else to fend for themselves. The Treasury tried to do this with its proposal in the 1997 referendum. Although fronted by Winston Peters, the scheme was neoliberal as set out by Roger Douglas in Unfinished Business. It was rejected by a huge majority (92.4%) of voters. I suppose it could be imposed without popular consent but that seems unlikely so I won’t critique it.

Treasury has also proposed that the level of NZS be indexed to prices rather than wages with the effect that the elderly would not share in any rise in material prosperity. (It was a part of the 1997 scheme.) Such price-indexation was imposed on benefits in 1991. The outcome was increased hardship. Whether it would be politically acceptable is for others to decide. (The Treasury is not unknown to advocate policies which it knows are politically unacceptable.) The change would give a little short-term relief to fiscal pressures, but would not resolve the longer-term pressure.

The indexation shift is likely to be a part of the resolution response to any Horrendous Fiscal Crisis (HFC). There would also be endings of various concessions (e.g. health, social support and transport), and the introduction of incomes- and/or means-testing. (Means-testing involves an assets test.) The winter energy supplement would be high on the abolition list. This is an ugly scenario – essentially an Americanisation – over which we would have little control.

That leaves two options (or both). One (the fourth in this list) would be to raise the age of entitlement. I have long been an advocate of this policy although I originally arrived at it from an equity rather than fiscal perspective. It seemed to me that as longevity increased and as those in later working age groups – the pre-elderly – became more robust, it did not make sense to give them the same state support as when the New Zealand pension system was first formulated in 1898.

I was impressed by the raising of the age of eligibility from 60 to 65 which Ruth Richardson (then Minister of Finance) and Cullen (then Opposition Spokesperson on Finance) agreed to in 1992. Well-signalled, small, incremental steps, with a provision to cover those unable to work and in hardship. Why stop at 65? Why not continue the process until some reasonable age of eligibility is reached? I suggested that might be where expected longevity would be 17 years. In 1898 that the expectation of a 65-year-old was 13 years; today it is 20 years. We do not expect to reach an expected longevity until age of about 72. Were we to adopt immediately the Richardson-Cullen process raising age of eligibility 3 months every year, we would not reach 72 until 2041. (For further detail see here and here.)

I am not arguing here for reducing the scope of the modern welfare state. Rather, I favour adapting it to changing circumstances. (Once, a single woman was eligible for the pension at the age of 55; I leave you to list the changing circumstances which made that archaic even if originally it was a humane policy.)

The National Party proposes raising the age of eligibility to 67 some years away. (I leave you to judge whether that is politically courageous or timid.) It was ruled out in the coalition agreement with NZF. It leaves the danger that one morning during an HFC, those who are 64 will wake up to find they will have to wait another two or more years before they become eligible for NZS.

The fifth option would be to claw back the incomes of the well-off elderly more than the current income-tax system (with its low top rate) does. There are potentially big gains here. On the two occasions a government tried to impose a clawback (it was called a ‘surcharge’), the public outcry was such that it backed down.

Which seems to leave us with the first option, to do nothing and wait for the HFC to do it to us.

Let me make a small suggestion which would give some flexibility for future change. Set up a special tax code for NZ superannuants. Let’s call it ‘G’ for golden oldies. (I suggested a parallel code for families with children here.)

Initially, it would have exactly the same tax regime as the existing one. Only those joining the scheme would be required to use the G code – current superannuants would not. An important reason for leaving them alone is that one cannot trust those designing the G-code to make transferring to it simple. But also it provides more certainty to the existing superannuants that their entitlements will not be undermined. Both reasons would reduce the initial antagonism to the new G-scheme.

In the long run though, the G-scheme could be changed with tax rates on upper incomes increased relative to ordinary tax rates – a clawback. (I could give a lot more detail if there was any interest.) Thus we would have an arrangement which could be used to progressively, flexibly and incrementally address the challenge of the aging population, rather than wait for the HFC to do it for us.***

* Note for Geeks. The public debt-to-GDP ratio will not be 200% as was widely reported. It may be 200% years. What separated out the good mathematicians in my class from the rest, was that the former knew they had to keep their units consistent. If you didn’t, you made egregious mistakes. Debt is a stock measured in dollars (say), GDP is a flow measured in dollars per year (say). In which case the Debt-to-GDP ratio is dollars divided by dollars per year, so its unit of measurement is ‘years’. You may think this does not matter but I have seen discussions in considerable confusion because the participants were not distinguishing stocks from flows. Part of our clumsy response to the Asian Financial Crisis of 1997 arose from the Reserve Bank not understanding this elementary mathematics.

** The economics of the Cullen fund is complicated. It requires distinguishing between the situation for a person from the situation for the economy as a whole where feedback loops are so much stronger. Do not make the ‘fallacy of composition’, which ignores these feedbacks. It led to a lot of faulty analysis during the Great Depression and probably intensified it. The critical assumption is that the Fund can make a higher return on its investments than the costs of government borrowing.

*** I shall write about the role of immigration in a later column.

Political Bullying


It even happens in New Zealand. Local autonomy suffers.

While Donald Trump may be democracy’s greatest political bully, he is not alone. It happens in New Zealand, not only in the offices of politicians and whips dealing with caucus. Cabinet ministers practise it in public, not least towards local government.

L ocal governments are legally required to forecast investment over at least ten years including the infrastructure necessary to meet additional demand, to improve service levels and replace existing assets. You probably think that is a good thing (although meeting the requirement almost destroyed my local council). Central government agencies do not have any such legal requirement;  the vast majority do not do it. The bully says, ‘you do what I say, not what I do’.

The contempt for local government is deeply embedded in the way we run the country. They are treated as handmaidens rather than independent agencies of government. The attitude is deep in our political culture with Parliament commonly overruling local preferences. It is not just the current government; the drive to centralise operates throughout the political spectrum. Among the centralising actions of the Ardern-Hipkins Government were to disempower localities in the management of their healthcare, polytechnic education and water as well as imposing Māori wards even where locals had already rejected them.

When in opposition, this government promised to reverse these actions – one of its few coherent policy approaches was to promise to reverse whatever the incumbent Ardern-Hipkins Government had introduced. While it has made some reversals, they have typically been partial and painfully slow.

Meanwhile, this central government has been willing to get into other stoushes with local governments. Take, for instance, the quarrel between the Minister for Housing and Infrastructure and the Auckland Council over local housing policy. A feature of Auckland Council is that it is getting big enough and politically strong enough to fight back, although because it is less united than a minister-sole backed by cabinet, it is not so even a fight.

The people’s Republic of Canterbury used to be bolshie, but the Canterbury earthquakes left it dependent on central government, which had all the funding. It will return to that more independent view.

The central government has two powerful weapons in any fight. It can change the law, ignoring whomever it wishes, and it has the funding, which it doles out to local government in return for acquiescence. The Minister for Local Government wants to take a proposal for capping local council rates to Cabinet before Christmas. The effect would be to further restrict what local governments can do, except where they can go to Scrooge central government and wheedle further funds out of them, giving central government even more control.

I don’t particularly like my rates rising, but I also want locally responsive cultural, environmental and social services. Those activities will be the first to be restricted if there is a rates cap, and my locality will be the nastier for it. Such matters are not easy trade-offs. But they are ones the locals should make, not bullies in Wellington.

Getting a new deal for funding localities is not easy, but central government is not even interested in trying. (Hence the grim joke that there is a ministry against local government in Wellington.) It would reduce its power to bully and we cannot have that, can we?

We are currently about to elect our local councils for a three-year term. There does not seem much enthusiasm for the exercise, in part because councils have so little power relative to central government. What happens locally over the next three years is likely to be far more influenced by central government decisions. I don’t know about yours, but my local candidates seem little interested in standing up to central government.

The issue of political bullying is wider than just local autonomy. There is increasing diversity on many dimensions – age, culture, gender, ethnicity, region, religion, sexual expression, taste … The traditional approach of ignoring the diversity and assuming we are all the same (and you will better bloody conform) is increasingly not working. To give the Rogernomics Revolution credit, it recognised the diversity pressures by handing over more decisions to individuals – to the market (although neoliberalism has little recognition that for the market to work well requires fair income and wealth distributions). However, it never recognised that there remains a need for lower-level collective institutions like local authorities and unions.

Once the paths of many MPs to Parliament were through local councils (or other collective mid-level institutions like Federated Farmers and unions). The apprenticeship gave them a connection with ordinary people. The Fabian roots of the Labour Party evolved from (English) local body activity. National once prided itself on its grassroots foundations – giving priority to selecting those candidates the electorate knew. Overseas, the evolution of Greens was founded on local activity, but New Zealand’s show little interest in local politics. (ACT is putting up a handful of candidates in these council elections.) Perhaps the lack of local input explains a number of eccentric – but not long-lasting – MPs.

Today the ambitious politician skips such formative experiences; they are more likely to have entered from having worked as political advisers in Parliament and then onto an MMP list. The traditional Saturday morning clinics have been delegated to paid underlings so that on this dimension also, the humble task of engaging with ordinary people is diminished.

Getting into power seems to make one a natural bully, forgetting that once the role of politicians in a democracy was to serve the people – all people, not just the ones who elected them (typically only a minority of the population – often a small minority). Nor was it to serve only the interests of the pressure groups which funded their election. Imposing one’s personal beliefs on the majority of the population was not a part of a modern democracy. Getting into power often involves the bully politician claiming to know things better than experts (although they rarely have the time to master the subjects). It can be an ignorance compounded by arrogance.

Trump is an extreme example of political bullying. American legal, political and social institutions seem unable to restrain him in the short term; whether they will be able to restrain his authoritarianism in the longer term is yet to be seen. In the interim, his attacks on localities, diversity, and knowledge and expertise are damaging the future of the United States – perhaps irretrievably. (He is certainly accelerating the decline of American global power.)

He is not unique – although his personality may be. There are other bullies, even here. Our bullying is usually not as vigorous, but it could evolve that way, especially if someone with a Trump-like personality got into power. New Zealanders need to stand up to any bullying but also to create and strengthen institutions which play their part in resisting it.

Around the Corner?

What the latest Statistics New Zealand GDP figures might be telling us.

Statistics New Zealand’s publication of GDP for the June Quarter got a lot of media coverage, some of which bordered on the hysterical. To say the figures demonstrated the country was ‘bankrupt’ is a nonsense. Bankruptcy is about debt. Not a single one of the 28 tables SNZ published measured the debt of the nation, so they cannot tell you anything about the nation’s solvency, even metaphorically.

Why the focus on the single GDP number, given that SNZ provided literally thousands of them (although they are all interconnected)? The data is largely irrelevant for those who already know what the problem is: say Nicola Willis or Grant Robertson – or perhaps, as in the case some years back when a Rogernome argued the economy does well when the All Blacks do, we should blame it all on Razor Robertson.

It is never simple to know what is going on. First, how reliable is the estimated decline? There will be revisions. (The released tables are littered with ‘R’s indicating that estimates released in the past have been revised – but not by much. They have to be, unless either new information is ignored or we wait until all of it is in – we’d have to wait over a year.) I doubt that future revisions will be sufficient to reverse the conclusion that the economy contracted in the June 2025 quarter.

Why did the economy contract? Not that long ago the expectation was that the economy would turn the corner by June. If it has, the turn has been downward.

One answer is that it has been in contraction since September quarter 2022. That shifts the question to why we are in a long-term recession. (Here is my most recent discussion.)

Focusing on the last year, SNZ offers a breakdown of production by industrial sector and by types of expenditure which allows us to more than express hysterical shock.

SNZ reports 16 industrial sectors. It would be tedious to go through each, even if we stuck to comparing just two time periods. With three exceptions, all the industrial sectors have been struggling (contracting or growing less than the population) recently. Primary industries have  been growing but not booming – as has healthcare and social assistance. The only sector with strong growth has been rental, hiring, and real estate services. The big takeaway has to be that the construction industry is down substantially.

The expenditure sectors tell us something about who businesses are selling their reduced output to. Per capita private consumption expenditure fell 0.3 percent in 2025 June on a year earlier, while general government consumption fell 0.2 per cent. (Local government expenditure has grown strongly, hence higher local body rates.)

It is not possible from the published accounts to explain why household expenditure was weak because the tabulations don’t give the transfers (direct taxes and benefits) between households and government. We know that unemployment is up and real market incomes are falling, but without knowing those transfers we cannot assess to what extent households are raiding their savings and going into debt.

We know that the falling government expenditure is from a deliberate decision by the government to cut its spending (major exceptions are on education and healthcare). Thus the falling production of the professional, scientific and technical, public administration and arts and recreation sectors where government funding is important. The expenditure of nonprofit organisations serving households fell dramatically, probably because the government has been more successful at cutting its funding to them than cutting back on its own activities.

The rest of the world purchases of New Zealand output are reported as exports of goods and services. Exports and the associated sectors have been strong in recent times. There was a falloff in the June 2025 quarter that some attribute to Trump’s tariff policies. His first increases were only implemented in early April; it will take time for their effects to work through. The worst may yet be to come.

Firms are cutting back on their investment, so gross fixed capital formation is down. We saw that in the construction sector, and it will be a source of the manufacturing sector decline since it supplies building materials. The record is that residential building has been falling since 2021 and business investment since 2023, both before uncertainty from Trump’s erratic policy became evident.

The Reserve Bank began hiking nominal interest rates in 2021 and by 2022 they were back to the levels of the 2010s, after having been kept low during the Covid crisis. Interest rates have since been coming down. Even so, they are still higher than the late 2010 levels.

You may have expected from government announcements that capital formation should be lifting rather than falling. However, none of the ‘think big’ projects have got under way and many of the announcements seem to be repackaging older commitments rather than initiating new ones. The government’s freedom to increase public investment is limited by its ambition to get its borrowing and debt levels down.

Business closures seem unusually high. It is possible that we are going through a structural change. That certainly seems to apply to Auckland’s and Wellington’s hospitality industries, although reporting may be exaggerating by focusing on closures and giving less attention to new openings. It may be that our CBDs are contracting, as you would expect in Wellington with the government reducing its public sector – but thus far not by much. If so, why also Auckland? The post-Covid increase of working from home may be a factor. If there is a CBD structural change, landlords may be reluctant to reduce their rents, which would increase the number of empty shops.

More puzzling are the closures of large businesses in the regions – especially those processing local resources such as fish, foodstuffs and trees. Some changes amount to consolidation, relocating the operation elsewhere (which is little consolation to the locals). But there has to be a concern that something more fundamental is going on. One might hope the Minister of Economic Development and two Ministers of Regional Development would commission a report on what is happening – one which focused on the facts rather than sought superficial policy responses.

The focus of this column has been grappling with the facts rather than seizing one and attaching to it some unrelated political demand – like the country was bankrupt and ministers should resign. However, interpretation of facts is always in a framework of a theory; the one used here is the conventional wisdom. And yet the previous two paragraphs leave one uneasy; perhaps there is a more serious problem.

One of the SNZ tabulations compared New Zealand’s GDP change in the year to June 2025 with a selection of other (affluent) economies. It showed that New Zealand’s contracted in the last year while all the others expanded; typically, New Zealand was at least 1.5 percentage points behind. Hence the unease. Perhaps our structural economic policies are quite wrong, or perhaps the future of the New Zealand economy is bleak, irrespective of the quality of the policies.

Is the Capital in Capitalism Coming to an End?

Big Corporations Are Not What We Think They Are

John Kay has been widely described as ‘one of the greatest economists of our time’. He is well grounded in economic theory and has taught it. He is rich with practical experience, both as a consultant and a corporate director, which he melds shrewdly with the theory. He writes precisely and charmingly. And he is not constrained by the inertia of the conventional wisdom. I particularly liked his books on Obliquity, Other People’s Money and Radical Uncertainty (the latter he wrote with Mervyn King) where he pushes economists’ thinking forward– the conventional wisdom will eventually follow.

His latest book, The Corporation in the 21st Century, is even more challenging. A warning though. The publishers subtitle, ‘Why (Almost) Everything We Are Told About Business Is Wrong’, is misleading. Kay is explicit that he is writing about mega-corporations rather than conventional businesses. The standard paradigm still applies for most of those we know, work for and purchase from. The book, however, makes a compelling case that there is evolving a quite different sort of business, typically associated with products we may love, but whose producers we hate.

That is almost the title of the book’s first chapter which, initially, I found had a strange theme. Kay cites a recent legal case in which an investor sued Goldman Sachs for not following its ethics and values statement which begins ‘our client interests always come first’. The investment bank defended its case in court by arguing that the code was puffery and that no reasonable person would regard it as a statement of fact on which they might rely. The argument was supported by the US Chamber of Commerce and various other business peak associations. The US Supreme Court sided with the argument. Apparently, you should not trust what businesses tell you. Kay cites other instances with similar conclusions. 

(Kay does not explore the common notion that a successful economy depends on trust, although he has an acerbic ‘the 2024 meeting at Davos adopted its theme “Rebuilding Trust”. Well it might.’ Perhaps that will be in his next (fourteenth) book.)

The purpose of the opening chapter seems not only to express moral outrage, but also to frame the book: don’t believe what business tells you. What then are you to believe? Who then are you to believe?

Kay’s book is so rich in insights and examples that it is difficult to summarise. Basically, his message is that the features of corporations we are familiar with are no longer dominant. The archetypal business of the Industrial Revolution was a steelworks or a textile mill. Subsequently, the model was extended to embrace new technologies such as automobile production.

However, business went beyond that, nicely illustrated by the evolution of General Motors, which transformed from a company which made cars to a finance corporation which used its cars to secure its lending to consumers.

This rising role of finance in the modern economy is one of the major transformations of the modern era. Kay cites the case of the Halifax Building Society, once the largest mortgage lender in the world, whose board he was on – he left before it collapsed. For more than a hundred years it was a mutually owned organisation. It was converted to a shareholders’ company, became merged with the Bank of Scotland and crashed with it in 2008 under the impact of bad loans and inept money market trading. (One employee was fined £500,000 for reckless conduct.) Kay thinks the rot set in before the demutualisation saying:

‘I trace the beginning of the decline to an earlier board decision to establish Treasury, which managed day-to-day cash balances as a profit centre in its own right. … Trading in short-term money market instruments is essentially a zero-sum game – one party’s gain is another’s loss. So what was the source of the trading profits that not just our company, but every company in this business, claimed to make? The experienced bankers would shake their heads at this naivety. If they deigned to answer the question at all, it was to say that our traders were uniquely perceptive and prescient, although it was difficult to remain convinced of that once you had met them. The fantasy that sustainable earnings could be achieved through a sleight of hand was dispelled by the 2008 crisis – and was a principal cause of it.’

So the financial gains were a kind of Ponzi scheme in which the traders used a valuation of their assets unconnected with tangible assets or the actual future flow of income to give the impression that they were all making money. It came crashing down in 2008. But we never learn and, no doubt, the same thing is happening today. Mind you, those involved in the dealing make a mint during the boom, which is ultimately paid by the losses suffered by depositors, shareholders and taxpayers when the crash occurs.

When will the next crash happen? I can’t tell you. Dornbusch’s Law states that crises ‘take longer to arrive than you think, but then happen faster than you thought’.

Yet we are only halfway through the book (and have already skipped a lot of interesting ideas). Its second half moves on to explore another of Kay’s central themes. ‘The value of production today lies in the ideas rather than the stuff – think of pharmaceuticals or smartphones.’

A startling illustration is Amazon, a two-trillion-dollar company, which reports holding assets which are less than a quarter of that. Most of its buildings and the like are leased property which it does not own. ‘The key point is that Amazon has virtually no [tangible] assets akin to the Carron ironworks, the rail line from London to Bristol or Henry Ford’s River Rouge complex.’ Most of the limited assets its owns are financial. Trillion-dollar Apple has a similar story. It does not make computers, distribute them or sell them. It coordinates these activities.

Kay argues these companies are more typical of the modern mega-corporation. The core ideas in his book – collective intelligence, radical uncertainty, disciplined pluralism, relation contracts and the mediating hierarchy – lead to a quite different account of the organisation of the firm from how the standard economic theories and the law characterise it.

That discussion is for another venue. In fact, this book is a work-in-progress. It will take us a long time to work out its implications. Sometimes he gives the impression he may not fully understand himself. That is the nature of revolutionary tracts.

The concluding chapter, ‘After Capitalism’, is an indication of just how revolutionary Kay’s thinking is. I am not sure that is the right way to think about this era. Capitalism has transmuted greatly in the two centuries since the Industrial Revolution.

Observe that ‘capital’ has two different meanings. Kay is pointing out that in the evolving era, physical capital appears to be less significant. But financial capital remains significant, as this book and some of his earlier ones argue. Symbolically, Trump’s cabinet is stacked with billionaires.

And if financial capital remains politically powerful – the golden rule of those who have the gold make the rules – what if it is all a Ponzi system? Gee willikers.

The Fashion for Merging

Do we need bigger multipurpose government mega-departments?

Restructuring seems to be the fashionable management practice whenever faced with a challenge. (Eminent health economist Alan Maynard’s caaled it ‘redisorganising’ citing Petronius Arbiter in Satyricon: ‘we tend to meet any new situation by reorganising, and what a wonderful method it can be for creating the illusion of progress while actually producing confusion, inefficiency, and demoralisation.’

Yet the restructurings continue (until the demoralisation ends?). They are reminiscent of a cargo culture, with the expectation that eventually a magic spell will succeed. It every new senior generic manager commences with a restructuring it surely implies that the structure which the outgoing chief executive left behind was inadequate. In turn, their structure will suffer an upheaval, presumably with the same implication.

Currently the Public Service Commission is considering reducing the number of government departments by merging them. But what is the evidence of the effectiveness of the mega-departments which bring a diversity of activities under the same chief executive?

Anecdote there is. The Lambton Quay view – the term for the discussions by Wellington insiders – rarely has a generous word to say about the Ministry of Business, Innovation and Employment – a department of diverse miscellaneous affairs (it has twenty ministers). Promised synergies have not appeared. For instance, the various divisions of what was once the Department of Labour have not articulated a coherent approach to labour market policy.

The other great example of a miscellaneous affairs agency is the Department of Internal Affairs (DIA). It also gets few plaudits from Lambton Quay. We have one study, which I report in chapter 17 of In Open Seas, of what happened when Archives New Zealand and the National Library were forced to rejoin the DIA in 2010.

No justification was given for the mergers. The most likely one was that the State Services Commissioner thought he had too many chief executives reporting to him – about forty. There may be a similar reason for the current proposals to reduce the number of government agencies.

The DIA’s subsequent stewardship of Archives New Zealand has been far from impressive. (Nor has it treated the National Library well.) Following the amalgamation, Don Gilling, a retired professor of accounting with considerable public sector accounting experience, found that the DIA was raiding the funds allocated by Parliament to the two to prop up its other activities. One understands the challenges faced by an underfunded department but this was thwarting Parliament’s intentions. How did the department respond to Gilling? It rejigged its accounts, making them less transparent so it is no longer possible to do a Gilling analysis.

You may think that the public record is a trivial part of overall government, but it is central to accountability. Without protecting it, the Official Information Act (OIA) would be neutered. A requested document which the executive did not want to be revealed could be legally destroyed.

That accountability of government is but also true for past ones. When legislation was first passed to provide for investigating Treaty of Waitangi grievances, it applied only to contemporary issues. Later it was extended back to 1840 and has worked well because of what is available in the public record, even though the record is not perfect as the tattered remnant of the document of what was agreed at Waitangi reminds us.

The executive loathes accountability and, as we saw with the DIA accounts, will do its best to neuter attempts to apply it. A nice illustration, reported in In Open Seas, was that in 2019 the DIA deliberately manipulated the official information process to prevent the public obtaining a document before their policy decision was made so the public assessment could be ignored. (pp.214-8)

(The DIA manipulations enabled it to overrule the three ministers directly involved – the Minister of Internal Affairs, and the associate ministers, the Prime Minister and the Minister of Finance – a reminder on how powerful a department can be against weak ministers.)

So how to downgrade the use of the public record for accountability purposes? The DIA is increasingly merging management of Archives New Zealand with the National Library’s, claiming that they are both heritage institutions. (I leave you to explain why they are not in the Ministry of Culture and Heritage.)

The consequence is that the constitutional role of the public record is downplayed. We should not undervalue the significance of the state’s heritage responsibilities but accountability must be the priority in a democracy. After all, dictatorships are jealous of their heritage too; they distort them to reinforce their authority.

Whatever the intrinsic constitutional interest in this example – for democrats it must be high – the illustration shows that mergers do not always work. As mega-departments become multipurpose it becomes easier for managers to avoid a purpose they don’t like or find too difficult. If they don’t like accountability, they redirect the activity towards heritage; if labour market policy is too difficult then fragment those who ought to be dealing with it.

One of the major reasons we have separate departments despite their appearing to be in the same area is that they have different roles and purposes. Merge them and the roles and purposes get fudged. It was right to separate out the Ministry of the Environment, which is a policy agency, from the Department of Conservation, which manages the state’s environmental assets. Fuse them and both jobs will be done badly.

MPs have often been supine when their ability to maintain accountabilty is threatened. Recall how they happily passed the 2020 Public Service Act even though it reduced their ability to hold government agencies accountable. Will they be as complacent this time?

Reducing the number of the chief executives is not the only option. Before the 1989 State Sector Act, there was a panel of commissioners each of whom were responsible for a set of departments.

Without evidence to demonstrate that mega-departments work. It’s all unthinking reaction. Almost certainty the proposed mergers will further reduce the executive’s accountability to the public. The confusion, inefficiency, and demoralisation will continue.

Restraining Dictator-inclined Politicians.

With his ‘I have the right to do anything I wanna do. I’m the president of the United States.’ Donald Trump is echoing Louis XIV who may have said ‘L’état, ce’est moi’ – ‘I am the state.’*

The founding fathers of the American constitution were mindful of the authoritarian streak in English royalty; some had even claimed a ‘divine right of kings’ with unconstrained power. Charles I had made such a claim and had been beheaded. That led, several decades later, to the 1688 Bill of Rights which constrained the sovereign (it is now a part of New Zealand law) and the political writings of John Locke which were influential in the founders’ thinking when they were designing the constitution.

So they designed the American constitution with the fear of a Trump-like president (their equivalent of the sovereign) in mind. They assumed that the counterbalances from Congress and the Supreme Court would mean that a president would never try to abrogate the rule of law to the extent that Trump has. (Test it where it is ambiguous – yes.) What they perhaps did not appreciate was that the checks and balances would respond slowly and a determined president could do many things before they became binding.

I do not think it is likely that we could end up with a Prime Minister who would overrule our laws when it suited her or him. Even so, we should be concerned about the executive having unrestrained power.

From our perspective, Robert Kennedy Jnr, Trump’s secretary of Health and Human Services, may be more relevant. Thus far he has not broken the law. (One restraint may be that he is a registered attorney with law degrees from two respected universities. He has even less background in the discipline of healthcare than I have.) But he has had a surprising amount of discretion within the law.

It would be easy to dismiss Kennedy as unique to America, where he is both rich and has a high public profile from his family. (His father, also Robert Kennedy, was assassinated while running for president.) When Kennedy was running for president in 2023, Trump considered him such a threat that he was offered the health secretaryship in return for his support. So he is a kind of coalition partner in the Cabinet with only a little public support. Sound familiar?

Kennedy is an acknowledged vaccine sceptic. I avoid a discussion on this view here (but read David Isaacs’ Defeating the Ministers of Death, although it finishes before the Covid pandemic, alas). Even so, during his Senate confirmation hearings he said, ‘I’m going to empower the scientists at HHS to do their job and make sure that we have good science that is evidence based … I’m not going to substitute my judgment for science.’ (my italics)

Yeah right. Since coming to power Kennedy has cut back funding of medical research, discouraged vaccination programs and either directly, or indirectly by his behaviour, laid off administrators with acknowledged expertise in the area. Illustrative of his approach, he is cutting $US500m of research funding for mRNA vaccines, claiming that they ‘fail to protect effectively against upper respiratory infections like Covid and flu’. Had he fulfilled his promise to the Senate he would have directed the research to pay more attention to investigating this alleged failure. (My understanding is that vaccines rarely fully protect, but their enhancement of the overall quality of life more than offsets any failures. Settling the balance is an evidence-based research exercise.)

Kennedy has similarly intervened in other medical areas. Further detail would only reinforce the central issue: to what degree can a cabinet minister pursue some policy very distant from conventional understandings, when the politician has no mandate for the pursuit? That Trump is tacitly supporting Kennedy’s policies by not sacking him or reining him in, is not a satisfactory answer. It is not simply that Trump has only a limited mandate (about a third of registered voters); even that majority of that minority probably did not vote for these particular policies.

Do we observe some New Zealand Cabinet Ministers pushing personal policies with a Kennedy-like lack of attention to the evidence? Would they do so further, were they not restrained by checks and balances? As a British Lord Chancellor said, a parliamentary system is an ‘elected dictatorship’. Our dictatorship is restrained by the requirement of having an election every three years. In those thirty-six months the dictator-politicians are also subject to formal and informal checks and balances. Without them, as Trump’s ignoring of them in his first eight months well illustrates, a politician can do a lot of damage. On the other hand we expect our political leaders to lead and object to eunuchs who do nothing. It is a delicate balance.

The Coalition Government is currently putting to a referendum the proposal that New Zealand extends its three-year electoral cycle to a four-year one, thereby extending the dictatorship and weakening a key mechanism which holds our politicians accountable.

The ACT party has reservations about this power increase and suggested that we should support the four-year term if there are more checks and balances. Theirs was a grudging concession along the lines that if electoral accountability is reduced, parliament would make minor changes to strengthen the checks and balances. It has since withdrawn it; ACT has offered no alternative.

Surely the change should be the other way round. Politicians would acknowledge that the checks and balances on the executive are weak and need strengthening. They would make changes to increase their accountability. Having done this, they would then ask for a four-year electoral term.

As Trump and Kennedy demonstrate, the likelihood of politicians reducing their power belongs to the ‘yeah right’ basket.

* Another parallel with the Sun King is that Trump appears to have similar golden tastes redecorating the White House.

Appendix: Some Ways to Strengthen Accountability

1.‘Officers of Parliament’ – the Auditor General, the Commissioner for the Environment and the Ombudsman (who is also Official Information Officer) – have accountability roles similar to MPs but with more resources and expertise. There are others with similar roles – a list is here – but because they are based in government agencies and subject to them, they are less able to hold the executive to account. They should be made officers of parliament.

2. Properly fund the Ombudsman’s office so that challenges to the executive’s Official Information restrictive decisions can be dealt with more quickly.

3. Strengthen the ability of select committees to challenge the executive. (The ACT proposal attempted to do this.)

4. Make the public accounts more transparent so they make using them for accountability easier.

5. Reduce the power of parties relative to voters by having list MPs appointed to Parliament on the basis of those who obtained the most electorate votes but did not win their seats, thereby increasing the independence of MPs. (Like the way Samoa tops up the number of women MPs.)

6. Further limit the power of those with finance to fund parties.

7. Make political lobbying more transparent.

8. Give local authorities more independence (which also means more financial independence).