Building a Responsible Society

Lecture 3
Professor Jonathan Boston
Professor of Public Policy, Victoria University, Wellington
June 23, 1998

Introduction

We cannot talk about building a responsible society—with all that this implies about the allocation of rights and duties, the nature of justice, and the need to hold individuals, voluntary groups, businesses, institutions and nations accountable for their actions—without betraying our fundamental values and moral outlook. After all, the central issues of responsibility—such as who should be responsible for what and to whom, and how particular responsibilities should be shared amongst the various social orders—can only be answered within the context of a comprehensive and robust philosophical framework. Accordingly, let me state at the outset that my perspective on the nature of a responsible society is shaped first and foremost by my background as a Christian—and a reasonably orthodox one at that—and second, by my commitment to the principles of social democracy. These include support for democratic methods of governance, an open society and economy, an extensive system of individual and collective rights, and the pursuit of social equality and distributive justice.

My intention in this lecture is two-fold. First, I want to explore, albeit briefly, the philosophical foundations of a responsible society and note some of the ways in which this country falls short of the mark. Second, I want to comment on three areas of public policy which are relevant to building a responsible society: the question of targeting versus universal provision; the Government's draft Code of Social and Family Responsibility; and the proposal for a Social Responsibility Act.

The Foundations of a Responsible Society

Similarly, I suspect that most would accept that there is evidence of irresponsible behaviour at all levels within the community and in all walks of life. New Zealand's grim statistics on drug abuse, sexual abuse, sexually transmitted diseases, teenage pregnancies and violent crime point to a society which is disordered and suggest that many are failing to fulfill their obligations, such as their duty to care for themselves and others. Likewise, the high levels of marital discord, domestic violence and child neglect indicate that many families are dysfunctional and that a troubling number of parents are not fulfilling their responsibilities to love, nurture and care for their children.

Such problems, it can be argued, have been magnified by irresponsible actions on the part of recent governments, in particular the seemingly deliberate efforts to widen socio-economic inequalities and reduce public investment in physical infrastructure and human capital. The savage cuts in welfare benefits in the early 1990s, for instance, have undoubtedly exacerbated the financial plight of many low-income families, intensified poverty and social exclusion, and turned thousands of beneficiaries into virtual beggars (see Stephens, 1998). Policy makers have been equally irresponsible in their failure to monitor and evaluate in a proper fashion the effects of their far-reaching reforms. It was several years, for instance, before a systematic analysis of the impact of the benefit cuts was undertaken. Surely this is not the hallmark of a responsible government or a responsible society.

Question marks can, of course, be raised over the efficacy and wisdom of many other policies. There is now robust empirical evidence that the removal of school zoning in the early 1990s has not merely had a substantial and often detrimental impact on some school rolls, but has also intensified the degree of social and racial segregation. For some middle-class pakeha families de-zoning has doubtless brought benefits; but for the children of the poor and marginalized living in deprived areas there has been little to celebrate. Ultimately, of course, we may all be the losers. Systemic educational disadvantage, coupled with widening income inequality, growing racial disparities and sharper socio-spatial segregation, are unlikely ingredients for a healthy society, a vigorous democracy or a prosperous economy.

To be sure, recent New Zealand government's have made an honest attempt to resolve Treaty grievances. They can equally take some pride in the fiscal discipline exhibited during the 1990s. But this fiscal prudence has been costly in social terms, and these costs has been borne disproportionately by our least advantaged citizens. Again, I find this hard to reconcile with my understanding of a responsible society.

Turning from the domestic to the international arena, the picture is little better. Indeed, the current economic outlook, particularly in Asia, is deeply troubling. As an international citizen New Zealand has of course acted responsibly on many fronts, not least in its campaign against the proliferation of nuclear weapons and its support for the peace-keeping efforts of the United Nations. Yet it is sobering to compare our overseas aid budget with those of other advanced industrialized democracies. Whereas the Danish government devotes over 1 per cent of its country's GDP to overseas aid, and Norway, the Netherlands and Sweden spend around 0.8 per cent, New Zealand's expenditure is just over 0.2 per cent, about a fifth of the Danish level.

Is this the mark of a responsible society and a responsible nation? I suggest not. But it is at this point that serious problems begin. We may all agree that a responsible society is desirable, but our views about the attributes of such a society may be radically different. Likewise, we may all agree that individuals, families, businesses, voluntary organizations, institutions and governments have definable and significant obligations, yet there may be no consensus about their proper nature and scope. Many believe that a responsible society is one where most of the financial risks of human existence, such as sickness, disability, accidents and unemployment, are pooled by the community and thus borne collectively. Others, by contrast, contend that individuals should be self-reliant and should insure themselves against such risks. From this standpoint, collective solutions, such as social insurance or tax-funded welfare systems, are not merely inefficient and inequitable, but they also encourage irresponsible conduct.

Resolving conflicting ideological positions of this nature is complicated by the absence of any commonly accepted moral conception concerning either the purpose of human existence or the appropriate ordering of society. To put it bluntly, there is simply no agreement on what constitutes the good life or what gives meaning and value to life. Many liberal philosophers, such as Ronald Dworkin and John Rawls (1971), believe that this lack of consensus on fundamental values poses no serious difficulties for society. This is because the state need not, and indeed should not, endorse or reject any particular conception of the good life; nor should it impose the pursuit of any particular ends upon its citizens. Rather, it should remain neutral; that is to say, it should facilitate an open-ended plurality of values, so that individuals can pursue and achieve whatever they choose to value. Hence, if some people choose to be egotistical while others choose to be altruistic, this is of no concern to the state; nor should the state attempt to judge the relative merits of specific lifestyles, such as the choice to marry or remain single, or the choice of a same-sex relationship rather than a heterosexual relationship, or the choice to die of overwork or to die of boredom! All that the state is required to do is to ensure that all citizens are treated with equal concern and respect, and that each person is able to pursue his or her own goals and ambitions consistent with other people having the same liberty.

This is not the place for a lengthy treatise on moral or political philosophy. However, I believe that this particular form of liberalism with its strong emphasis on moral neutrality—is fundamentally flawed. The reason, very simply, is that principles of justice or rules of right conduct are an intrinsic part of the conception of the good life; the two are logically connected (see Jones, 1989). Hence, to claim that all citizens are equal in some respect or that citizens have certain rights and responsibilities, is to make a moral judgement, and this judgement necessarily reflects a particular world view or conception of what is good. For this reason, it is a mistake to believe that one can establish a just social order or build a responsible society independently of a moral theory about what is good for human beings or what makes for a good society. And if the nature of justice cannot be separated logically from a conception of goodness, then no government which is committed to building a just society can be neutral about the nature of the good life. On the contrary, it has no option but to take sides.

But this, of course begs, numerous questions. From what moral foundation should the state draw its inspiration and the ethical principles to guide its policy decisions? And how paternalistic and coercive should it be in pursuing, upholding and enforcing its chosen conception of the good life and corresponding notion of a responsible society? These are large questions, and time permits only the most general of answers.

My basic starting point is that the quest for a responsible society is to be found in the assumptions, doctrines and values of the Christian faith, and in particular the grand themes of creation, fall and redemption. Central to Christian theology, in other words, are the claims that the world owes its existence to the action of a loving Creator, that the world has in some sense been marred by human selfishness or sinfulness, and that God, in the person of Jesus Christ, has entered human history and through his suffering, death and resurrection has brought the offer of redemption, healing and forgiveness. On the basis of these critical theological foundations, the Christian church has, over the centuries, developed a rich tradition of social teaching. While there are many different streams of thought, or social theologies, within this tradition—compare, for instance, the work of Barth, Niebuhr, Temple, Thielicke, Yoder and recent Catholic social teaching—there is, I believe, broad agreement on the following propositions:

• first, we live in a moral universe in which the responsibilities of individuals, families, firms and institutions are both extensive and exacting. Above all, there is a responsibility to be loving and to act justly;
• second, human beings are precious and should, accordingly, be treated with dignity and respect;
• third, humanity has a social nature and finds fulfillment in community and fellowship with others. Independence and interdependence must therefore be carefully balanced; fourth, humanity has a propensity to act selfishly and irresponsibly and, as a consequence, various institutions are needed, on the one hand, to curb and punish evil and, on the other hand, to offer healing and hope; and
• fifth, the state is a divinely sanctioned institution whose primary purpose is to establish and enforce public justice and pursue the common good. This includes protecting the interests of the least advantaged citizens and ensuring that everyone has a permanent stake in their society and economy.

Second, and related to this, Christians have long disputed—and will doubtless continue to do so—the question of the proper limits to the state's role. The ethical principles underpinning the Biblical tradition are consistent, in my view, with a relatively substantial role for government, as for instance represented by modern welfare states. Indeed, such a role is arguably essential if the state is to establish a just social order and pursue the common good.

I recognize, however, that some Christians see things rather differently. Well, I think they are wrong; and if there was more time I would happily defend my position (see Boston, 1994a).

Third, while a state acting in accordance with Christian principles cannot be neutral with respect to the good life, and must in fact be committed to building a responsible, good and just society, this does not mean that the state should use extensive coercion or force in its pursuit of these goals. On the contrary, the state should be relatively liberal and democratic, not highly paternalistic, legalistic or theocratic. Put differently, coercion by the state should, as a general principle, be kept to a minimum, with legal remedies being used only when other methods (including voluntary initiatives, reciprocity, moral suasion, education, and incentives of various kinds) have failed or are likely to fail. In determining when coercion is justified, various considerations need to be taken into account including the minimization of harm, the protection of human dignity, and the protection of key social institutions, such as the family and the justice system (see Feinberg, 1973). For instance, the state is justified, in my view, in intervening in a family context to protect children from violent, abusive or seriously neglectful parents; likewise, it is justified in reminding parents of their basic responsibilities; it is not, however, justified in prescribing exactly what it means to love one's children and then enforcing such standards via the legal system.

Finally, Christians should be realists. Because of the human propensity for evil we should never expect to build a utopia; a society in which everyone constantly respects the rights of others and fulfills their many and varied obligations is unobtainable. This, however, does not provide grounds for despair or resignation. On the contrary, we remain bound by the divine imperative to love, to pursue justice and to seek the good of our neighbours, and to do so by all possible means—both private and public, individual and collective.

The Responsible Society and Public Policy

1. Universality and Targeting

The current Prime Minister, Jenny Shipley, appears to share these reservations. By contrast, supporters of universal provision claim that targeting can often be inefficient and inequitable, as well as generating numerous administrative problems, stigmatizing the poor and undermining middle-class support for the welfare state. To quote Dr Geoff Bertram, one of my colleagues at Victoria University:

"Universal provision ... improves resource allocation, minimizes qualitative differentiation of service, is politically sustainable because of the wide spread of beneficiaries, and performs an important socially integrative function by underpinning rights of citizenship." (1988, p. 135).

This is not the place to analyze these competing views in detail. I would, however, like to make four brief observations.

First, like many policy questions, assessing the relative merits of targeting and universal provision is complex and, in my view, there are no simple answers. Having said this, the case against universal forms of social assistance—whether it be free, compulsory education, a universal pension, or a comprehensive public health care system—is much less compelling than many of the advocates of targeting believe. For instance, the claim that universal programmes are morally unjustified because they involve the poor subsidizing the rich or because the rich capture most of the benefits has little substance in most cases. As long as the tax system is not highly regressive, a universal programme will in fact redistribute resources to the poor, though admittedly to a lesser extent than an equivalent programme which is tightly targeted.

Let me illustrate: suppose the top quintile of households (i.e. the top 20 per cent) earn $1,500 per week, while the bottom quintile earn $300. Hence, before tax and transfers are taken into account, the top quintile earn five times that of the bottom quintile. Now suppose there is a flat tax rate of 33.3 per cent and that every household receives universal transfers worth $300 per week. Under such a regime, the net income of the wealthiest 20 per cent of households will be $1,300 per week while the net income of the poorest 20 per cent will be $500. On this basis, the income differential will have been reduced by almost half. Instead of the top quintile earning five times more than the bottom quintile, the ratio is 2.66. This simply highlights the fact that if there is a proportional or progressive tax system and the state gives the same amount of services to the rich and the poor alike, the poor will gain significantly in relative terms.

Second, the issue of fairness or distributive justice is only one of numerous factors which needs to be taken into account when determining whether a particular form of state assistance should be provided universally or on a targeted basis. Take, for instance, the case of education: there are many arguments for state funding in this area which have nothing to do with income distribution or redistribution. Amongst these are the objectives of enhancing the stock of human capital, improving labour productivity, fostering social cohesion, encouraging the pursuit of knowledge, preserving and enhancing a nation's culture or cultures, and of course, ensuring that everyone is educated to a certain standard and thus has the opportunity to develop and use their gifts and talents.

Third, there are some services, like health care and accident compensation, where principles of insurance and the pooling of risk are vitally important. While the issues in relation to the funding of health care are complex, a good case can be mounted that it is more efficient, effective and equitable for the state to act as the principal insurer on behalf of the whole population rather than having a funding system based on targeted assistance and competing private insurers, as for instance in the United States. Universal health cover can be funded through the tax system or a separate, compulsory health insurance levy (or a mixture of both).

In New Zealand, the choice has been to use the tax system. Having made the decision that the state should serve as the community's insurer, it can be reasonably argued that publicly-funded health services should be available on the same basis to all citizens, irrespective of their wealth or income; no means test, in other words, should apply. Indeed, to require some people, by virtue of their income, to pay higher medical fees than others is arguably unjust.

Since the basis of this claim may not be entirely obvious, imagine, for a moment, that instead of paying tax to cover health care costs, people were instead required by law to hold private health insurance. Imagine further that having paid their levies for many years, people on above average incomes were suddenly informed unilaterally by their insurers that henceforth they would have to pay directly for all their primary health care services, as well as some of their secondary services, and would no longer be eligible for any reimbursement. Moreover, they would still be expected to pay the same levy as before. No doubt, health insurers would immediately be sued for breach of contract, and rightly so. In my view, the imposition of income targeting for primary and secondary health care services in 1991 constituted a similar breach of contract, though in this case it was an implicit social contract rather than a legally binding one.

Fourth, and perhaps most important in relation to the subject of this lecture series, the targeting or means testing of social assistance on the basis of income or wealth, no matter how well motivated, creates a variety of perverse incentives, and has the potential to undermine both individual and social responsibility. For instance, one of the inevitable consequences of targeting is that many low-to-middle income earners face high effective marginal tax rates; such rates are calculated by adding the tax rate to the amount of social assistance which is abated or lost for every extra dollar earned. When many services are targeted, those on modest incomes often face effective marginal tax rates close to, or even more than, 100 per cent. In other words, they may be no better off, or even worse off, as their income rises.

Problems of this nature have received much attention from Frank Field, the current Minister for Welfare Reform in the British Labour government and a leading social policy analyst. According to Field, the application of means tests to welfare assistance erode 'the values of work, effort, savings and honesty' (1996, p. 15). They 'cripple incentives' because as income from employment rises, the value of the benefit falls and people are left little, or no, better off; they 'penalize savings' because people who save are likely to make themselves ineligible for benefits'; and they 'tax honesty' because 'those who are honest about their earnings and savings make themselves ineligible' for state assistance (ibid). As a consequence, Field claims, means tests encourage widespread dishonesty, fraud, cheating and other forms of irresponsible behaviour: people deliberately fail to report their income, or the income of a spouse; or they deliberately stay on a benefit because there is no incentive to work; or they marry—as in the case of students—so as to become eligible for an allowance; or they separate—as in the case of elderly people—so as to become eligible for a larger pension; and so the litany goes on. As Field puts it:

Means tests ensure that claimants' energy is channeled into working the system rather than working themselves off welfare ... means tests are the most potent recruiting sergeant there is for the dependency culture.

While aspects of Field's analysis are certainly open to question, the broad thrust of his argument is highly plausible. Moreover, given that New Zealand relies at least as heavily on targeted forms of social assistance as Britain—indeed, we have one of the most heavily targeted policy regimes in the OECD—his analysis almost certainly applies in this country. In fact, because of the very poorly integrated nature of our systems of targeting—with numerous overlapping abatement rates, inconsistent eligibility criteria, and high effective marginal tax rates for many of those on low-to-middle incomes—it may well be that Field's argument applies even more forcibly here than elsewhere. Be that as it may, perhaps the critical lesson to be drawn from such an analysis it that policy interventions affect the incentives and constraints within which human beings live and work, and can thus have very negative consequences for human behaviour and social relations.

What, then, is the solution? One option, of course, is to impose even tighter systems of targeting, to cut benefit levels in real terms, and to make it all the more difficult for those in need to secure social assistance. In effect, this has been the option pursued in New Zealand during the 1990s; the recently announced measures to introduce work tests for beneficiaries are merely a further logical step along this road. While the social policy initiatives of the past decade have not all been flawed, I am not persuaded that the path we have taken is the best available. For one thing, it is evident that the number of people in receipt of welfare benefits has not been significantly reduced. As a result, there has been no overall reduction in the cost of welfare programmes. For another, the various cuts in benefit rates and the tightening of eligibility criteria have intensified the financial hardship faced by many of our most vulnerable and disadvantaged citizens. The large number of people who have little alternative but to beg for food, if not on the streets then from private charities, is testimony to the inadequacy of current benefit levels, particularly in the area of housing assistance. Further, workfare programmes of the kind we are about to introduce are open to numerous objections—not least their coerciveness and punitive nature—and are unlikely to have a major impact on overall levels of employment and welfare dependency.

If the current path is beset with problems, what alternatives are there? There are, unfortunately, no simple solutions. However, my preference would be for a combination of measures, including: first, a general reduction in our current heavy reliance on targeted forms of social assistance, particularly with respect to early childhood education, tertiary allowances, primary health care and child support; second, a better integration of those forms of targeting which remain so as to reduce the number of people facing high effective marginal tax rates; and third, the establishment of a commission to evaluate alternative forms of welfare funding, such as the idea of a 'basic' or 'citizen's' income and/or a greater use of social insurance. Various radical options in this regard have recently been advocated in the British context, and in my view these warrant careful attention (see Atkinson, 1998; Field, 1996; Report of the Commission on Social Justice, 1994).

2. The Proposed Code of Social and Family Responsibility

There is undoubtedly a case for communities to re-evaluate from time to time the nature and scope of the social responsibilities which human beings have for one another. To the extent that the proposed code has encouraged serious public debate about such matters, this can only be for the good. Hopefully, too, the idea of a Code indicates that senior policy makers take seriously some of the social ills which afflict this nation—such as drug abuse, parental neglect, truancy, sexual abuse and family violence. Views will doubtless differ on whether a Code of the kind proposed will alleviate any of these afflictions. Nevertheless, such problems are real and need addressing, and it is proper for the whole community to be involved in finding solutions. Accordingly, despite the serious methodological flaws of the public consultation being undertaken by the Government (see Grimes, 1998), the exercise will, I hope, generate some useful ideas for building a better society.

Yet having said this, the Government's proposals are open to numerous objections (see Boston, 1998). For one thing, the draft Code is misnamed. As it stands, seven of the eleven proposed 'expectations'—as they are called—primarily concern parental responsibilities, while the remaining four focus upon the responsibilities which individuals have to look after themselves.

Thus, the draft Code is really a 'Code of Parental and Individual Responsibility', not a 'Code of Social and Family Responsibility'. To be legitimately labeled 'Social', the Code would need to embrace some of the key social responsibilities which people have in their various capacities as citizens, consumers, taxpayers and neighbours for instance, a responsibility to participate in the democratic process, a duty to pay the taxes they owe, and a duty to care for their 'neighbours' (in the broadest sense of this word).

For another thing, the draft Code applies only to individuals and their immediate families; it thus ignores the social responsibilities of voluntary organizations, businesses, institutions and the state. Yet morally it is difficult to defend the proposition that social responsibilities lie exclusively with individuals, or at least individuals acting exclusively in their private capacity.

But whatever the Code is called and whatever its precise form, scope and content, the critical policy issue is whether it is desirable. In other words, is it likely to encourage more responsible or virtuous human conduct and do so in the absence of negative side-effects? The answer here depends, at least in part, on whether the Code is binding or non-binding; that is, whether it is given the force of law or whether it is issued merely as a statement of government policy. For instance, a non-binding Code might be helpful in reminding people about their responsibilities. But it is unlikely to have a significant and enduring impact on human behaviour. Indeed, as with many government policy statements, it is likely to be ignored or quickly forgotten by most people.

Against this, such a policy statement might be employed by various tribunals and Courts—like the Social Security Appeal Authority—in their efforts to find principles to guide them in their deliberations. To the extent that this occurred, the Code might have a discernible impact on certain classes of people. For instance, beneficiaries who have not fulfilled some of the expectations outlined in the Code might find it more difficult to secure social assistance. In all likelihood, however, such negative impacts would probably be modest.

Of course, matters would be very different if the expectations in the Code were made legally binding or, alternatively, if parts of the Code were used as a basis for new legal sanctions—such as penalties for those who fail to 'manage their money to meet the basic needs of themselves and their family' or for those who fail to 'do all they can to keep themselves physically and mentally healthy'. Yet both these options are open to serious objections.

First, if the expectations set out in the Code were all given formal legal standing, they would acquire a potentially authoritarian and illiberal character. For example, the police would be obliged to enforce the Code, and would accordingly be required to monitor its application. Hence, pregnant women who do not 'protect their own and their baby's health' and those parents who fail to 'do all they can to help their children learn from the time they're born' could be prosecuted and penalized. Plainly, such an approach would be highly contentious and socially harmful. Not merely would it facilitate totally unwarranted interference in the private lives of individuals and families, it would also raise serious problems with regard to effective monitoring and enforcement.

Second, the Code could be used as a guise for imposing new requirements or sanctions upon certain categories of people, most notably those in receipt of state assistance. By way of illustration, it has been suggested that beneficiaries might lose part of their welfare assistance if they fail to budget their income adequately, or if they fail to have their children immunized (without good reason), or if their children play truant. Other possible policy initiatives include giving 'money managers' the responsibility of looking after the finances of beneficiaries who repeatedly apply for special needs grants, and depriving working-age beneficiaries of state support if they fail to accept either a job or a training opportunity. Whatever the merits or otherwise of such proposals, it would be unjust if a Code of the kind proposed, which is intended to apply to all citizens, contained sanctions which, in effect, applied only to certain categories of people. In the case of truancy, for example, it would be discriminatory to impose sanctions on beneficiaries but to take no similar action against non-beneficiaries. While the Minister of Social Welfare, Roger Sowry, has denied that the government has any intention of extending the current range of punitive measures available to his Department and other government agencies, the nature and wording of some sections of the Public Discussion Document give cause for concern.

Finally, it has been argued by some ministers that the proposal for a Code reflects a broader governmental move to put the emphasis in social policy on responsibilities rather than rights. Roger Sowry stated early in 1998, for example, that the Code is radical in that we are taking the focus away from rights and looking at responsibilities for the first time. This will be the framework for all future development and delivery of social policy (quoted in Bain, 1998, p.2).

While it is utterly proper for the state to promote responsible citizenship and give due attention to the issue of social responsibility, it must never be forgotten that the protection of fundamental values, such as human life, dignity and liberty, is dependent upon the existence of a clear, legally binding set of civil, political, social and economic rights. Any move to circumscribe, diminish or take 'the focus away' from such rights must be firmly resisted.

3. The Case for a Social Responsibility Act

If a Social Responsibility Act were to be crafted with the objective of imposing a stricter code of conduct upon the government, it could obviously take many different forms, both in terms of its basic structure and content. The proposal which I and several academic colleagues have advanced in recent years uses the Fiscal Responsibility Act as its template and contains four main elements.

First, there would be a Statement of Principles. This would set out a number of key social policy objectives and provide criteria for determining whether the government is acting in a manner consistent with the intent of the legislation.

Second, there would be an annual Social Strategy Statement. This would be delivered in conjunction with the budget and would require the government to enunciate its short-term and longer-term objectives for social policy (including specific policy targets), its overall social priorities, its strategy for dealing with longer-term social trends (e.g. changes in demography, family structure, socio-spatial characteristics, etc.), and whether its strategy is consistent with the social responsibility principles contained in the Act.

Third, there would be an annual Social Outcome Statement. This would be delivered at the time of the budget and would require the government to report on its performance in relation to the objectives set in previous Social Strategy Statements and to explain any significant inconsistencies between these objectives and the results actually achieved. The Act could also require the government in this Statement to report on the social consequences of any significant policy initiatives undertaken during the preceding two-to-three years.

Fourth, there would be a requirement for social impact assessments. Any governmental proposal with major social implications would require a social impact assessment prior to final policy decisions being made (see Davey, 1995). Such an assessment would need to be made public. Beyond this, a Social Responsibility Act could embrace a range of other provisions and initiatives:

• a requirement for social responsibility accounting to be introduced in the public sector; a requirement for all social service providers to have consumer charters and published quality standards (e.g. along the lines of the British Citizens' Charter);
• the establishment of a Parliamentary Commissioner for Social Responsibility, perhaps modeled on the Parliamentary Commissioner for the Environment;
• and the introduction of a Charter of Social Rights along the lines of the European Social Charter (see Harris, 1984; Lewis and Seneviratne, 1992).

Admittedly, a Social Responsibility Act of the kind proposed would raise certain difficulties, not least the problem of defining an appropriate set of guiding principles. It would also entail additional costs, and is likely to slow the pace of policy making in some areas.

Moreover, such legislation would not be an instant panacea for New Zealand's social woes. It would certainly not eliminate poverty or unemployment. It would not automatically reduce inequalities or widen the circle of prosperity. Nor would it necessarily make governments more socially responsible.

Against this, politicians and their advisers would be obliged to give greater attention to the social costs and outcomes of their policy decisions, thereby partially balancing the current fixation with economic and fiscal aggregates. Further, such an Act would help make the social aims and achievements of governments more transparent and improve the quality of information available to policy makers. As a result, it would enhance the opportunities for public scrutiny of governmental interventions and provide the basis for greater political accountability. Such gains, I believe, are important and worth striving for.

Conclusion

As a Christian, I am mindful that in this world—a world marred by human selfishness and irresponsibility—we cannot expect to attain perfection; the desired goal will always be beyond our grasp. I am mindful, too, that the pursuit of a better world, a world in which individuals, families, firms, organizations and states behave justly and responsibly, does not come cheaply or without much effort. There is a price to be paid; personal sacrifices are inevitable. One of these costs, and by no means a trivial one, is that the advantaged must be prepared to assist the disadvantaged. In this current era, so dominated by the quest for smaller government and lower taxes—especially for the rich—it is good to be reminded of the words etched on the facade of the headquarters of the Internal Revenue Service in Washington DC: 'Taxes', said Oliver Wendell Holmes, 'are the price we pay for a civilized society'. They are equally, of course, the price we pay for living in a responsible society.

References

The Lectures