A general election in a democratic community provides the people with their great opportunity to choose a Government. In the political sense it is their supreme moment. Once that choice has been exercised, the voter has used up pretty well all the power he has at his disposal. The party that secures the majority—whether it be a majority of two or twenty—can do more or less what it likes until another election comes round. The voter can growl and grumble as he will, but his share in the democratic set-up is in a large sense limited to the casting of his vote. Once he drops that fateful paper into the waiting ballot box, he is functus officio as we say and he's for it. If good Government results from the decision of himself and many others, they can count themselves lucky; if it doesn't, his main reaction will have to be, "Well, you caught me once, but never again."

A Test Of Character

Democratic government is, then, a test of character and this test applies to those who seek the votes the system is to work well, the dominant objective must be the general good of the people as a whole. There's no preaching about this and if it is brushed aside lightly as a well worn platitude, those who take that line cannot fairly claim to be true to their trust. It is just plain hard fact and there's lots of experience to support it.

This test of character is a two-way affair. It applies, in the first place, to those who prepare the policies or programmes that are to be put before the electors. Promises of a kind will always appear in such policies. After all, what is policy, but a series of promises? But these promises differ in their nature: some make their greatest appeal to good sense: others aim straight at the pocket and even the greed of cupidity of the voter. Let me cite three different types:

• * First, a promise that New Zealand will join the World Bank.
• * Secondly, the offer of a £16 million railway for Nelson.
• * Thirdly, a promise to give taxpayers a £100 income tax rebate.

No one could successfully argue that all three promises are of the same nature or quality or that they appeal to voters in the same way. In deciding whether we should or should not join the World Bank, we try to decide which course would be for the greater good of New Zealand. When we look at the second promise, different considerations will apply. Is such a railway justifiable on grounds of necessity? Will it operate for the good of Nelson in an economic sense and can it be said that New Zealand as a whole should contribute towards its cost ? Or was it no more than a last minute and scarcely considered bid to win a seat for a political party? And, lastly, there's the promise of the tax rebate of £100. Where lies the appeal in this instance? Is such a promise aimed at securing the good of the community, or does it come right down to the individual and pecuniary gain of the voter? No one would call that the 65-dollar question.

So much for the party that makes the promises. But what of the voter? Well there's a test for him, too. If he can succeed in putting the general good ahead of his personal interest, good government will be as near to a certainty as institution.

The Voter Pays

Returning for a moment to my argument that the elector carries his fate in his own hands, let me set out quite simply a few truths that are widely known but all too rarely referred to.

• * Election promises are not paid for by the parties that make them.
• * If, and when, they are honoured, their cost must be met from the funds of Government, and
• * A government can get the funds it needs in one or more of three ways only. Since it can't rely upon magic, it must: —

Go to its Reserve Bank and, perhaps, print what it needs, or

Borrow what it requires by raising loans locally or overseas, or

Resort to the time honoured practice of squeezing it from its already overloaded taxpayers.

On its election to office in November. 1957, the Labour Party found it necessary to make use of all three methods because not one of them by itself was sufficient to pay for the lavish promises it had made to win its way to power. It has been said that the price we were invited to pay for a Labour Government worked out at about £45 or £60 millions—a tax rebate of up to £100, extra family allowance, increased Social Security benefits, and the capitalisation of the child allowance. A very tidy bid in the way of a temptation. And it worked! Of course, the bill came in a few months later, and what a bill. But it made Labour happy, very happy indeed.

The Parties Compared

There are people who say that the two rival parties in New Zealand are so much alike that there's not much to choose between them. That, I think, is a very superficial view, and it calls for a measure of examination. Fundamentally, Labour stands pledged to Socialism; and National advances the supreme value of free enterprise and individual choice. Latterly, this distinction has become somewhat academic. During its present

term of office, Labour has paid lip service to Socialism but has done little if anything in the way of taking direct steps towards the attainment of its loudly proclaimed objective. Socialism has become, in effect, its theme for Sundays. Nevertheless, a good deal has been done by what one may call the indirect method, and it is argued that given something more than an uncertain and unsatisfied majority of two, the march towards State ownership and control could become faster and more direct.

There is a lot of evidence to support the view that Labour has been changing its coat to suit a change in the political climate. Space will permit me to refer to a few cases only.

* Socialists don't believe in big business because, they say, it exploits the workers in its pursuit of profits. But during the last three years, this so-called Socialist regime has been carrying on a most obvious flirtation with big business in the fields of oil, iron and steel, and aluminium.

In the field of finance, we can discover another Socialist move towards the right.

* Labour said for years that it was stoutly opposed to borrowing overseas, especially in the dollar market. National has always argued that in a young and developing country, reasonable overseas borrowing is not only wise and desirable, but necessary.

On its election to office in 1957, Labour easily forgot its pronouncements about borrowing and sent Mr Nordmeyer overseas—even to the "dollar money boodlers" of Wall Street—to see what he could raise in the way of loans: and only a few days ago, he said, his Government might have to do something along the same lines in the near future.

* Thirdly, Labour used to aver quite stoutly that it would not sell State houses. National believed in selling them, and did so, as part of its policy of home ownership. Labour, in office, has forgotten its pronouncements in opposition, and is selling State houses just as we did!

Space alone compels a curtailment of this theme. We of the National Party can fairly declare, however, that imitation is a very real form of political flattery.

Many of my readers will vote for the first time towards the end of this present year. It's not fun:

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it's serious. With that vote, they will help to decide what tax burden their parents will have to carry. They will assist in fixing the burden they themselves will carry in respect of indirect taxes on petrol, tobacco, and lots of other things they commonly buy. They will assist in deciding whether the door of opportunity is to move towards "Open" or "Closed." They will be called upon to choose between present financial benefits with consequential burdens in taxation, and a wider, freer, and more self reliant future.

Truly, democratic government is a challenge to us all. It is a challenge to the political parties to place only what is best before us. It is a challenge to us to choose first and foremost that which is for the general good. It's a steep road but it was a New Zealander who first climbed Mount Everest.