What are we doing? Why aren’t we more pissed? I spent $30 on fuel yesterday and it felt like it was only enough to get me to the next fuel pump. Students are coming to me saying they cannot even afford to get to campus, despite already paying so much already just to be here. It raises a simple question. Is this Government so committed to criticising Covid-era spending that it is now willing to let people struggle rather than respond to this new level to this cost-of-living crisis? Is this political principle, or is it stubbornness dressed up as fiscal responsibility?
We are told to trust the experts behind these decisions. But these are the same economic voices that have been wrong before, often with real consequences for ordinary people. They told Roger Douglas that privatising state assets would make us wealthier. Instead, New Zealanders now pay billions more comparatively each year in energy costs alone following electricity market reforms. They promoted deregulation of the building industry under Jenny Shipley, which contributed to the leaky homes crisis, leaving tens of thousands of families dealing with defective housing and billions in repair costs. These are the same experts who, like Alan Greenspan, built a global financial system on the assumption that banks would self-regulate out of self-interest, and then expressed “shocked disbelief” when they didn’t (real quote, by the way).
Some will dismiss this argument because I am young, not affiliated with some questionably funded think tank, and do not hold a PhD in economics. But I argue that reaction proves a point. The idea that the economy belongs only to “experts”, a term I am using with some creative licence given the examples above, is exactly how flawed decisions go unchallenged, even though the consequences are lived by all of us, every day. In fact, in many ways, we are the economy. How are we not credible voices in the system that is, inherently, us?
New Zealand’s primary response has been a $50-per-week boost to the in-work tax credit for around 143,000 working families with children, costing about $373 million. Finance Minister Nicola Willis acknowledged public transport would play an ‘important role’, but signalled there were no plans to expand subsidies. That contrast has drawn justified criticism. In fact, a University of Auckland researcher noted that a three-month fare-free public transport period would cost roughly a quarter of this package, while also reducing demand for imported fuel.
Pakistan made public transport in Islamabad and Punjab free for 30 days. In the Philippines, Manila temporarily implemented free commuter rides by subsidising shuttle drivers. Australia’s Victoria and Tasmania made public transport free. Lithuania halved train fares for two months. Vietnam suspended environmental and VAT taxes on petrol and diesel to make essential travel more affordable. On top of this, the previous government actually did cut fuel tax and halve public transport fares during the 2022 fuel spike, so there’s a clear precedent.
If this argument makes you uncomfortable, it’s worth asking why. Is it because the ideas are unrealistic or because they challenge assumptions about what we’re willing to accept? Students are continuously absorbing the consequences of decisions made without us in mind. We receive little targeted relief, we’re locked out of support systems designed for someone else’s life, and when the cracks widen, it’s organisations like the WSU that are left doing our best trying to fill them.
So, please be more angry. I definitely am.
