Ministers say the cost has escalated to an estimated $3 billion from original estimate of between $1.2b-$1.4b
Independent review, commissioned by the Government, concluded that the project could not proceed within the current budget
Dunedin Mayor reacts, saying it was “completely unacceptable” for the city
Opinion: The people are angry. Angry as all hell. And they say this is just the start of the fight.
The sight of 35,000 people storming the streets of Dunedin to protest hospital cuts was something not often witnessed in New Zealand.
The city says they were promised a shiny new hospital, but on Thursday, Infrastructure Minister Chris Bishop and Health Minister Dr Shane Reti came to town and delivered what the people saw as a great betrayal – a downgrade of the project, and a scaling back of essential services to save money.
Announced the day prior, the ministers arrived in Dunedin wielding an independently contracted report as their justification – which was publicly released just minutes prior to their meeting with journalists.
The hospital as it was promised by then-soon-to-be Prime Minister Christopher Luxon in January last year? Gone.
But locals had no patience for excuses. This wasn’t just about dollars, it was about healthcare, lives, and a promise that had been dangled in front of the city for years.
Following the announcement, Mayor Jules Radich blasted it as a betrayal, calling it “completely unacceptable for Dunedin and the South”.
He said that the expected number of 10,000 people for Saturday’s protest had likely doubled. He was off by 15,000.
The air on Saturday was electric. It was expected to be big, but it was monumental. Thirty-five thousand people gathered, close to a third of the city’s population.
A horde of enraged southerners, town and country united, stormed George St like some biblical legion.
Music blared, T-shirts and signs were handed out as the street outside the Dental School began to fill with people.
Minutes after beginning it was already an impressive turnout – but more than half were yet to arrive.
As the crowd grew and people stood shoulder-to-shoulder, volunteers desperately corralled the congregation into a manageable flow.
In photos of the day, people may be smiling – but once you stopped and talked to those present, the anger broke through.
Margot Lemm, 86, said she thought of “something stronger than ‘bother you’” the day ministers Reti and Bishop announced the cuts.
“I don’t want to die in an ambulance halfway to Christchurch,” she said.
As councillors led the march down George St, chants of “Build it once and build it right!” were bellowed out.
When the head of the march made it to the Octagon, word was received that the tail end was yet to leave the dental school. Speeches would have to wait.
When Radich began, the crowd was whipped into a frenzy.
“We’re here to send a clear message to the Government to keep their promise,” he said.
Clutha Mayor Bryan Cadogan told the crowd: “We’ve been bloody lied to”. Raucous applause ensued.
“There’s going to be a bloody fight,” he assured.
“We’re going to come together as town and country, together we can do this.”
As the protest wound down, the atmosphere mirrored that of a festival – something momentous had occurred. Conversations swirled around one central question:Would the government listen?
Afterwards, in answer to that question, some were cynical, others not so. But all agreed the sheer number of voices raised would be hard to ignore.
And besides, in tough economic and uncertain post-Covid times, a sense of unity and southern dignity was welcome. There can be no accusations of apathy here.
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