Whatever Happened to Trust in New Zealand?
It’s becoming harder and harder to trust the things we used to take for granted.
Trust that the news is telling us the full story.
Trust that public officials are being straight with us.
Trust that the people making big decisions actually remember how those decisions were made and how they will affect us.
A great King once said, “We can’t go on together with suspicious minds,” and he was absolutely right. Cue Elvis impression.
But seriously… what happened to trust in New Zealand?
Trust in our public institutions is at an all-time low. That’s not a radical observation, and it’s certainly not a new one. People, organisations, and surveys have been pointing it out for years. From universities to Parliament, from local councils to police, from the media to our health sector, confidence has been steadily eroded.
And trust matters. It has to be earned, built, and stewarded. When it’s broken or abused, transparency and remorse have to come before reconciliation can begin.
The recent release of the Covid-19 inquiry hasn’t done much to restore confidence in the institutions that led us through that period. No one seems willing to own the wave of poor decision-making or the roughly $30 billion in overspending. Even those who stood at the centre of the pandemic, presented as leaders, experts, and the so-called “one source of truth”, now say they can’t recall who made certain decisions or what advice was given.
But maybe the problem runs deeper than our institutions. Have we lost trust in each other too?
I remember growing up and getting a second-hand BMX. It was the best. My whole world expanded overnight. My days were spent riding from park to park and around the neighbourhood. I knew my neighbours. I knew the local dairy owner and the fish and chip shop owner. I knew the other kids around the area.
I’d be gone for hours with a $2 coin for hot chips and no phone to call home.
That kind of childhood rested on a foundation of trust. Trust between parents, neighbours, and the wider community.
I miss that New Zealand.
The New Zealand where we gave each other the benefit of the doubt. Where we trusted people, trusted common sense, and believed that most of us were trying to do the right thing.
Sometimes it feels like that country is gone forever. But it doesn't have to be…
Over time we’ve developed two unhealthy habits as a society. First, we’ve become increasingly dependent on big public and cultural institutions instead of our neighbours, communities, and local relationships. Second, we’ve grown deeply distrustful of those same institutions.
So now we’re stuck. Dependent on institutions we don’t trust, and disconnected from the people around us who should’ve mattered more all along.
That has to change.
We need to recalibrate our relationship with public institutions. We need institutions that are transparent, accountable, and honest. When people look at the government, they should be able to see clearly how decisions are made, how money is spent, and what priorities are driving action.
From spending and borrowing to meetings and agendas, from the top of Parliament to the front line of the public service, transparency should be the standard.
When people consume media, they should have confidence that what they’re hearing is accurate and fair.
When people enrol in university, they should be stepping into places devoted to advancing knowledge, not enforcing ideological conformity.
At PILLAR, one way we’re trying to contribute to that renewal is through our Foreign Influence Transparency Bill. It’s a practical step toward greater openness and stronger protection against foreign interference and hidden agendas.
But legislation can only do so much.
Laws matter. But laws alone can’t rebuild a culture. Hearts and minds have to be won as well.
You’re reading this because you believe in what we’re building at PILLAR, and for that we’re deeply grateful.
So let me ask you to make a commitment.
A commitment to believing in people again.
A commitment to optimism.
A commitment to resisting the easy lure of cynicism.
When the world feels like it’s sliding off course, will you be the person who still looks for the silver lining?
Will you take a few extra minutes to hear someone out, even when you disagree, and respond thoughtfully and respectfully?
Will you choose to build rather than simply complain?
Taking the high road isn’t always easy. After the last few years, it can even feel pointless. But I’m not ready to give up.
I’m willing to fight, blood, sweat, and tears, to see New Zealand become a country known for positivity, innovation, and civil liberties.
That kind of country won’t be rebuilt by politicians alone.
It won’t be rebuilt by policy alone.
It will be rebuilt by us.
It starts with us.
