Editorial: Tenant has no grounds for staying

Opinion

On March 31, a total of 11,529 people, most of whom live in Auckland, were on the waiting list for a state house. Of that number, 148 were classed as having severe and persistent housing requirements that needed to be addressed immediately. That demand places its own strictures on Housing New Zealand, which must juggle its stock to ensure as many people are tenanted in as rational a way as possible. Part of that equation will involve exchanges of those living in a house too big for their requirements with those in need of more space. Just that situation has prompted a senseless response from a family who are now threatened with eviction from a Panmure state house.

Nineteen-year-old Olivia Maana wants to stay in the house that her mother, Kopu, lived in for 32 years before her death last month. She says her family is emotionally connected to the house and does not want to move. Therefore, she has declined Housing New Zealand's offer of another house nearby.

People's emotional attachment to a property is simple enough to understand. Most leave houses rich in personal history with more than a twinge of regret. But only homeowners are fortunate enough to have something approaching a cast-iron guarantee of never having to leave a property. The timber-clad character of most state housing is a pointer to the fact that, in the case of their tenants, nothing is cast in stone.

Nor should it be. State houses were always meant to be a refuge in a period of need and a stepping-stone to home ownership. The first state house, built in the Wellington suburb of Miramar in 1937, offered the template when it was bought by its original tenant. Yet somehow, many tenants seem to have come to the view that they are entitled to stay in a state house for as long as they like and that their children might even automatically inherit the property.

The notion makes little sense. Even those with little inclination to buy their own home will be subject to changing circumstances that will dictate the approach of Housing New Zealand. Parental income rises and children mature and contribute to the family budget or leave home and make fewer demands on family resources. It is not reasonable to suggest that such households need the same level of support or the same amount of space as they did a decade or two earlier. Others have a greater need.

In the Panmure case, the changed circumstance is a deceased tenant. This means, quite reasonably, that Olivia Maana, her young son and a 13-year-old cousin are eligible for just a two-bedroom house. Other families on the waiting lists with a larger number of children require her present three bedrooms. In no way is Housing New Zealand being unduly tough. If this was a case of true misfortune or hardship, it could be expected to lean over backwards to help her. But it is not. Housing New Zealand's ambition is merely to use its housing stock to best advantage, for the benefit of those in greatest need.

Olivia Maana seems, nonetheless, to be intent on painting herself as a martyr and making her removal as difficult a process as possible. The police may yet have to be used to evict her. But true martyrdom is granted only to those whose cause is justified and who are unblemished. Housing New Zealand's suggestion that she is not paying rent and reports of structural damage to the Panmure house should ensure a low ceiling on the degree of popular support for her. Indeed, the picture that emerges is of an ungrateful state-house tenant evading her legal and moral responsibilities. She should move out without delay.