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Dr Michael Johnston | Senior Fellow | michael.johnston@nzinitiative.org.nz | |||
The Education and Training Act 2020 is massive. It legislates parameters for nearly every imaginable aspect of publicly funded education, from early childhood to university. One of its 669 Sections describes the objectives of school boards. Alongside enabling students to attain their highest possible standard in educational achievement, the Act exhorts boards to ensure that schools are physically and emotionally safe environments. Boards must also make sure their schools cater for students with differing needs and give effect to the Treaty of Waitangi. The New Zealand Initiative has long argued that the Act should elevate the delivery of education above the other objectives. It seems that the government has taken note. Its recent Education and Training Amendment Bill sets ensuring students’ educational achievement as the paramount objective of school boards. The other three objectives in the 2020 Act are relegated to the status of ‘supporting objectives.’ By giving the other three objectives equal status, the current Act puts boards at risk of confusing means with ends. Naturally, schools should endeavour to keep students and staff safe. They should be inclusive of all students’ needs and cultures. But these are strategies for delivering education rather than reasons for schools to exist in the first place. Imagine a school with very little bullying, plenty of provision for neurodiverse and disabled students, and a strong emphasis on Māori language and culture – but mediocre educational achievement. The board could claim it is doing its job well. It might acknowledge room for improvement on one of its objectives but argue that its outstanding performance on the other three makes up for that. In fact, though, that school and its board would be failing. The government’s intended change to school board objectives is more than cosmetic. Making educational excellence the paramount objective will provide a clear and overarching criterion for accountability. When the Education Review Office visits a school, it will now be much more interested in its achievement data than has been typical in recent years. The only reason schools exist is to deliver education. The Education and Training Amendment Bill is a welcome reminder of that. |
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Benno Blaschke | Research Fellow | benno.blaschke@nzinitiative.org.nz | |||
I joined The New Zealand Initiative last week after a rather unconventional journey. As a half-Austrian, half-Kiwi "third culture kid," I lived a contemplative life and studied consciousness at Victoria University. Economics was not my original path. My economic awakening began at Treasury. I was troubled by a simple question: why can Kiwis not afford homes? My brother, an economist, had trained me in traditional economic thinking. But something was missing. Then I discovered urban economics. It hit me like lightning. I realised that problems in our society show up in the price of housing. This insight changed everything for me. Housing costs limit economic freedom and place substantial limits on what we can spend elsewhere. Traditional economics often ignores where things happen. Planners think of cities as the skyline rather than human activity. Unsurprisingly, how we build our cities makes it harder to get to work, find jobs, or run businesses. The Initiative has long argued that unnecessary rules make houses too expensive. Rules about where and how to build. Poor ways of paying for roads and pipes for new homes. The problems go beyond just housing. We end up living in a restricted world that makes life more expensive than it needs to be. This recognition crosses political lines. Labour’s Phil Twyford and National’s Chris Bishop are remarkably aligned on these principles. Housing affordability is not a partisan issue. It is about removing barriers to prosperity. New Zealand must stay the course on urban reforms. We need competitive land markets to discipline land prices. Landowners should risk being undercut by other willing sellers of land if they hold out. We need streamlined regulations. We need infrastructure funding mechanisms that disrupt privileged access to finance without which we cannot urbanise land or make distance matter less. The current government seems to understand the urgency. Minister Bishop demonstrates a firm grasp of urban economics. We have a rare opportunity for generational change. Economics is valuable because it orients us toward the light of human activity often ignored in urban planning. It teaches us how to say yes to humanity, enabling us to create pathways to prosperity that have remained frustratingly out of reach. I am excited to continue this work at The Initiative. |
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Dr Oliver Hartwich | Executive Director | oliver.hartwich@nzinitiative.org.nz | |||
It is a small family ritual, sweet and a bit silly – and the last thing I still do on a platform the world has quietly left behind. Now, each time we connect, Skype reminds us with a message: the service is being retired in May 2025. Microsoft wants everyone on their Teams app instead. The little blue Skype window that once felt like a digital miracle is on death row. I find that oddly sad. Skype was born in 2003, in European obscurity. A Swede and a Dane co-founded it, but the software itself was the work of four Estonians. Within two years, eBay had bought it for $2.6 billion. Then, in 2009, private equity scooped up 65 percent for $1.9 billion. In 2011, Microsoft paid $8.5 billion for it. Skype’s growth was phenomenal. In 2005, it had just 2.9 percent of the international call market. By 2014, it had 40 percent. Competition authorities might have wondered whether this was a dangerous monopoly in the making. They need not have worried. Technology moves too fast for regulators. Skype’s rise and fall played out before any competition watchdogs got around to acting. And so, what had looked like the future was soon overtaken. The pandemic did the rest. Zoom surged, WhatsApp adapted, and Microsoft poured its resources into Teams. Meanwhile, Skype was quietly shuffled to the back room. Still, Skype had soul. It had that unmistakable ringtone: doo-doo-doo-dip. It had charm. It let kids drop snowflakes on their grandparents. It did not take itself too seriously. But it also aged badly. Skype never kept up with the sleekness of newer platforms. The interface stayed clunky. The features felt stuck in 2011. And then there were the strange contact requests, usually from exotic women with suggestive profile images. I declined them all. Aside from the obvious reasons, I never warmed to Skype’s auto-translate. Still, Skype did one thing well: It enabled people far away from one another to talk for free. That once made it revolutionary. Thirty years ago, such calls were science fiction. Twenty years ago, they were the future. Ten years ago, Skype ruled them. And today? It is being retired. Yes, Skype is just a piece of software. But it is also a story of wonder lost, of novelty becoming normal, of innovation outpacing its creators. So farewell, Skype. And thank you. Doo-doo-doo-dip. |
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