Census system leaves a lot to be desired

MARCH 6 was Census Day. In the preceding period, publicity about the coming census encouraged everyone to fill it in online, as soon as they received their access code by mail. When a Dunedin couple left home on February 23, for engagements in northern cities, the promised code hadn’t arrived. Noone was at their home on March 6.

The letter containing the code was in the mail awaiting their return, and an attempt was made then to fill in the Dwelling Form online — after all, the form pointed out that to do so was ‘‘quick, secure, and easy’’. Secure it may have been (who would know?) but quick or easy it wasn’t. Not listing the name or names of those present in the dwelling on Census Night, because noone was there, meant no further progress was possible.

There was no paper form to complete. What to do? The couple (one of whom doesn’t associate with computers) decided the problem was the Government Statistician’s, not theirs, and resolved to do nothing. That was clearly the right choice, as, some time later, an envelope arrived containing paper Dwelling and Individual Forms, which were duly filled in and put in the Freepost envelope accompanying them. As it happened, the forms weren’t posted, because a census field officer turned up at the front door soon after, and took the envelope with her. Job done.

It wasn’t, though. Another field officer turned up at the door, a week or so later — she’d come because the computer didn’t have a record of anyone being at the address on March 6. She recorded on her tablet that the occupants were elsewhere in New Zealand on March 6, and paper forms had been submitted. Done at last?

No. Some days ago another letter arrived by mail, claiming ‘‘We haven’t received census information for this household – IT IS NOW OVERDUE.’’ When will the farce end?

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The letter also explained that ‘‘your information helps plan how government funding is spent across New Zealand.’’ But how accurate will that information be?

The Individual Form told those under 15 years old to omit sections 24 to 49 of the form.

Section 24 asks about smoking. Don’t we need to know how many children smoke?

Section 26 asks about marital or civil union status. The minimum marriageable age in New Zealand is 16, but not everywhere. Civis knows immigrants from Venezuela, Mexico and South Africa. It’s possible to marry under 15 there, as in several other countries, and in parts of the United States — girls in New Hampshire at 13.

Section 27 asks females how many babies they’ve had. Is the Government Statistician naive enough to think this doesn’t happen under the age of 15? In the three years 201416 there were 66 births in New Zealand to women under 15, nine of them under 14. A tiny proportion of the 177,708 births in those years, but real babies, real mothers, as important as the over15 mothers.

Sections 34 to 49 ask about work and income. The Inland Revenue Department is interested in those under 15 who work and/or receive income. Why isn’t the Government Statistician, when she asks for considerable detail from everyone else? Does she think youngsters don’t work or earn money? Are paperboys and girls nonpersons?

New Zealand needs information about itself. But omitting relevant detail about those under 15 means the census won’t describe it accurately.

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The 2018 Hyde St Party has been described as ‘‘awesome’’. The students’ association congratulated itself, saying ‘‘everyone is pretty happy’’.

The party may have been less destructive than previously, but is it ‘‘awesome’’, in a country with a serious bingedrinking problem, to encourage heavy allday boozing (some participants were reported to have ‘‘preloaded’’ before arriving at 9am), with police having to eject an unspecified number of drunks? That St John ambulance staff had to treat 38 people, three of whom were admitted to hospital? Yeah, right!