New Zealand’s Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern

On February the 28th, New Zealand confirmed its first coronavirus case. The second case was confirmed on the 4th of March. By the 21st of March there were just 52 confirmed cases. Yet on this day, Jacinda Ardern, New Zealand’s third female Prime Minister, announced the introduction of a four-level alert system for the virus. Each level pertained to a different level of risk, corresponding to different rules and regulations governing social and commercial interactions. New Zealand began not at level 1, but at level 2, and immediately forbade mass gatherings of more than 500 people and imposed a raft of intensive restrictions on movement, both internationally and nationwide. By the 25th of March, just four days after the alert system was first introduced, New Zealand declared level 4, thereby enforcing the anglophone world’s most restrictive measures to contain the virus. All New Zealanders in non-essential work were instructed to stay home, all educational facilities were closed, all businesses were closed except for essential services, the border was closed to all but New Zealand citizens, and the already isolated country came to enforce the kind of restrictions that have only ever been seen elsewhere during wartime. This raft of new emergency regulations was enacted shortly after New Zealand reached a mere 200 confirmed cases. Four days afterwards, New Zealand had its first coronavirus-related death. To date, there have been four fatalities.

How and why did New Zealand enact such extreme measures before many other countries had so much as lifted a finger to address the crisis? The answer, I believe, must be understood in the light of the country’s national psyche.

A satellite photograph of New Zealand

New Zealanders, or Kiwis as they like to call themselves, are an odd bunch. This idiosyncrasy is probably predictable for a small country of some 4.7 million people living on two of the most isolated islands on Earth. Kiwis are largely descended from Victorian-era Brits who fled the UK seeking a quiet rural lifestyle, and indigenous Maori, who settled both islands around the year 1300 from Pacific Islands in what are arguably more idyllic parts of Polynesia. More recent settlers have come from across the globe, notably from China and other Polynesian islands. But Maori and British settlers continue to call the shots on what they take as contributing to the New Zealand national psyche.

To understand a country’s national psyche, it is important to look at what things the country holds dear to its heart. These things will often be historical events or achievements that are deemed to have shaped the core values of all citizens. They are the communally agreed upon reasons for patriotism. These objects of national pride colour contemporary achievements and stand as exemplars for future citizens to mirror their own action on.

Despite its small size, New Zealand prides itself for having a disproportionate impact on the world stage. New Zealanders like to think that small voices matter. This is often expressed in sport, and in the pride invested in its national sports teams, such as the formidable All Blacks or the Black Caps of the cricketing world. Yet interestingly, pride is something of a dirty word in New Zealand. Most New Zealanders treat pride as a deadly sin, and they expect their sportsmen and women to be as humble and magnanimous in defeat as they are in victory.

Kane Williamson, captain of the New Zealand cricket team

Take the Black Caps as an example. This team is famous for, of all things, it’s politeness on the field, and for consistently setting realistic and honest expectations when facing superior foes (already we have a good analogy going!). On the website Quora, for example, one netizen asks “Why do people like the New Zealand cricket team so much?” and the answers given (all by non-New Zealanders) exhibit a common theme: “honesty”, “politeness”, “well-behaved”, “humble” and “fair” were just a few of the virtues stated in the answers. One interesting example was discussed. In a recent world cup match, the New Zealand team defeated an arguably superior India in the semifinal. The captain, Kane Williamson, was asked by a presser about his thoughts on beating a nation with more than a billion supporters: “I hope they are not too angry,” he replied, as meekly as a humble mouse.

The value of humility over pride, and the emphasis on the happiness of the many over the few, are core features of the New Zealand psyche. There are a few historical episodes that New Zealanders take as exemplary here. New Zealand was the first modern nation to enact universal suffrage, in 1893, granting women the right to vote in national elections. This was 27 years ahead of the United States and 35 years ahead of the United Kingdom. What do New Zealanders make of this fact? Well, quite a lot! (Maybe too much). Of course, they see it as an example of their dedication to principles of fairness and the common good.

Kate Sheppard (1905), an important figure in New Zealand’s Suffragist movement

We may also look to the very foundation of the New Zealand state, and how this event continues to inform everyday New Zealanders about their national spirit. In 1840, the modern New Zealand state was founded by an agreement between Maori tribes and the UK. This agreement is called the Treaty of Waitangi. In short, the Treaty grants the crown final sovereignty over New Zealand, and in exchange, local Maori are granted the civil and property rights common to all the Queen’s subjects.

Interestingly, the date of the Treaty’s signing is commemorated every year on the 6th of February. Yet, it is not really celebrated at all. The day is more usually understood as a day for reflection on the meaning of the Treaty, and as a reminder that the resolution of disputed claims arising from the Treaty’s ambiguities (as well as violations of the Treaty’s articles) remain an ongoing concern. Unlike New Zealand’s neighbour, Australia, the national day is not a day for some historically blind celebration of colonial conquest. It is, on the contrary, a day to meditate on that very conquest, on the terms of the agreement, and on the very idea of “partnership” between the Crown and indigenous Maori. The Treaty remains a focal point of much discussion, and a basic understanding of the Treaty and its implications is more or less demanded of anyone working in the public sphere.

Depiction of the signing of the Treaty at Waitangi

Again, there is a common theme that arises. New Zealanders understand civic life to be a communal affair, that hinges on an idea of fairness that requires agreement between communities, coordination, self-restraint, humility, and ongoing reflection. The national day is not a day for celebration, but for meditation on the very ideas of group fairness and group justice. Contrast this view of civic life with its obvious American counterpart and no more stark contrast can be imagined. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness sound like alien concerns for New Zealanders, who think about justice, fairness and individual rights in largely communitarian and utilitarian terms.

It’s just this self-perceived commitment to ideals of fairness and community that have led New Zealand not just to enact such a thorough lockdown during this crisis, but more importantly, to actually go along with it. The measures faced very little criticism when put in place, and for the most part, Kiwis have continued to follow the rules, understanding that their own individual effort is not for the sake of their own health, but for the health of the wider community, particularly the elderly. The response is quintessentially New Zealandish, since it requires a humble setting aside of one’s own good, for the good of the many. There have, of course, been the occasional transgressors, but such transgressors have tended to be opportunists and overzealous teenagers, rather than protestors or libertarian proponents of inviolable rights to life, liberty or the pursuit of happiness.

Arguably, New Zealand remains one of the few countries in the anglosphere to have adopted a broadly neoliberal economics without adopting a corresponding neoliberal attitude to questions of personal rights and responsibilities. Social justice in New Zealand has more often taken the judicial form of defining a fair relationship between two groups: The Crown and local iwi. It has seldom taken the form of protecting individual rights from big government or other big and scary oppressors.

Empty Motorways Outside Auckland, New Zealand

For these reasons, collective action remains a common way to “get on and get things done”. And in this case, it is working. The country has seen a recent fall in the number of new cases of the virus and has 14 times fewer deaths than its neighbour Australia. This success can be argued to be the result of two things: firstly, the promptness and harshness of the measures imposed, but secondly (and equally importantly), the national psyche itself with its commitment to an idea of communal well-being, social coordination, and fairness. If other countries want to follow the example set by New Zealand, it may require more than adopting harsh measures. It may require adopting an entirely new belief: that the individual is an exemplar to others, and his or her actions, however minute, directly affect the well-being of the wider community.

While the virus continues to charge ahead, the West must stop believing in the nonsense that “my rights end where your nose begins”. After all, no matter where your nose begins, it can still sneeze all over my face, and from quite a distance. My rights may well extend beyond where your nose begins, to around about, say, two metres from the tip of it.