Nicole McKee MP (Opinion ODT 24.3.26) argues that ‘‘New Zealanders should have a serious conversation about alcohol’’.
I am sure many of us would agree with that statement. Responding to the ODT’s editorial on proposed changes to laws governing the sale and supply of alcohol, Ms McKee argues that the piece omits the benefits of the alcohol industry to the country, focusing only on the cost of alcohol-related harm ($9.1billion for 2023 alone).
This is incorrect; the editorial’s previous paragraph enumerates the alcohol industry’s contribution to GDP ($1.92b) and taxation ($1.8b).
She is correct that the ODT omitted the maths. $9.1b, less the benefits noted, makes a net annual financial cost to the country of $5.36b.
However you look at it, it’s the size of number that would make any finance minister ill.
Furthermore, this is only the dollar cost. The adverse impacts on individual wellbeing cannot easily be ascribed a dollar value, but they are all too real.
McKee goes on to say that, of the $9.1b ‘‘gross cost’’ (her words), foetal alcohol spectrum disorder contributes a cost of $4.8b. That means that more than half of the dollar cost ascribed to alcohol-related harm reflects impacts on children, inflicted before they are even born, and the lifelong adverse outcomes associated with this tragic, preventable condition.
Our most vulnerable bear the brunt of this country’s relationship with alcohol.
Her next concern is that the ODT criticises the intention to limit who can object to liquor licensing to those living in proximity to the proposed venue. If only people stayed close by when causing alcohol-related harm.
The ODT recently reported the case of a person who drove home to Dunedin from Christchurch while grossly intoxicated, only to crash on return to Dunedin.
No Dunedin resident would have been able to influence the granting of a liquor licence to a Christchurch hospitality venue under the proposed legislative changes. They were nevertheless endangered by this person, as was everyone on the road as the car headed south.
McKee notes that ‘‘an out-of-town objector always has a choice the local resident does not: they can decide not to visit or move there’’. This overlooks the connected nature of society.
Additionally, many young adults move cities for tertiary study. Under the proposed law, families would have no ability to object to new licences in that city.
And what of experts in the field, those whose research confers a better understanding than most of us of the implications of proliferating liquor outlets in, say, high deprivation areas?
Should they be forced to remain silent simply because the proposed outlet is not in their backyard?
Raising the situation where members of the hospitality industry face objections to licensing applications, McKee is sympathetic, citing the ‘‘personal and economic toll’’ of addressing those objections.
Yet selling alcohol is a responsibility that should have clear checks and balances in place. Her assertion that ‘it costs nothing to object’ belies the significant time and care involved in writing and submitting a formal objection.
This level of time investment puts it out of reach for most people; only those with a deeply personal interest will devote that time. If objectors have personally suffered the impacts of alcohol abuse, it’s crucial that their voices are heard.
McKee goes on to argue that what matters in developing policy is cost-effectiveness, using an analogy of fixing a dangerous road.
Apparently, it would be worth doing only if the monetary cost of fixing the road was outweighed by the social cost, in dollars, of not doing it.
The idea that policy can only be justified by net economic benefit is Orwellian. It ignores those aspects of social cost which cannot be assigned a dollar value.
McKee appears to lack empathy or compassion for the human beings behind the numbers.
While the editorial raises the issue of the proposal to legalise the serving of alcohol at hairdressers, McKee ignores it, perhaps wisely.
However, this also warrants examination. At a surface level, it sounds quite appealing to be offered a glass of wine while sitting at the hairdressers.
But the reality is more complex, and the move hardly seems to fit within the current government’s NZ Health Plan (2024-27), which aims to reduce the availability and social acceptance of alcohol.
I would argue that the proposal seeks to normalise and proliferate alcohol availability and consumption. Will I be offered that glass of wine if my appointment is at 9am? The proposed legislation allows this.
If I’m a recovering alcoholic? If salon staff lack training in assessing whether I’m intoxicated? If the salon can’t afford to absorb the cost, but feels pressured into serving alcohol to remain competitive?
Will those same salon staff ID me if I look under 25? If I cause an accident driving home, will the salon’s decision to serve me alcohol be subjected to legal scrutiny?
I suggest that this proposed legal change has many more fishhooks than clear benefits.
Nicole McKee has the power to do tremendous public good in her role as Associate Justice Minister. I would counsel her, first do no harm.
- Nicola Blaikie is a Dunedin writer and chartered accountant.
