By John Boothman
SEEING your words in print is a privilege, and newspaper columnists – even occasional scribblers like me – should never forget it.
Mind you, it’s not all wine and roses. It might have been von Clausewitz (or possibly Sun Tzu) who counselled against fighting a war on two fronts, as the dispersion of forces meant both campaigns were more likely to be lost. Unfortunately, keyboard warriors – unless they are content to bore their readers to sobs by repeating the same thing time after time – have little choice. One week, we’re experts on fiscal policy; the next we’re holding forth on bin collections and recycling. A reasonably agile mind, coupled with a low boredom threshold, are vital qualifications for the job.
Still, there are some topics where even fools fear to tread. For me, the infamous new hospital project has been one of those no-go areas. Over the past ten years enough ink has been spilt to float Condor’s new electric ferry, and it seemed just about every opinion worth hearing, as well as many that weren’t, had been aired ad nauseam. What on earth more was there to say?
Following the rethink announced by Infrastructure Minister Tom Binet, perhaps the answer is this. As he rightly said, we must change course. The ‘hospital on a hill’ to be erected at the top of Westmount has (or had) four crucial shortcomings: cost, access, functionality and aesthetics. The suspiciously exact budget of £804 million was both wildly extravagant and at the same time unrealistic: construction cost inflation would have pushed the final bill well over a billion pounds, while funding costs have doubled or trebled since bond issuance was mooted last year. Access for motor vehicles (including ambulances), as well as cyclists and pedestrians, was always hugely problematic. It was by no means clear that the new campus would be big enough to accommodate all the health facilities required. And the structure would have been a hideous blot on the landscape.
The whole project was driven forward by the Lyndon Farnham steamroller, which successfully crushed doubters on the citizens’ panel, and then in the States Assembly, which bizarrely gave the minister a blank cheque to get the work done – presumably on the basis of ‘third time lucky’. Even the Planning Minister rolled over. By spring of this year we were on the very edge of making a commitment that would have been catastrophically ill-judged on cost alone. We were contemplating a build spend, averaged out across the whole population, of something like £25,000 per household. In an Island with no material economic growth since 2000, an emerging cost of living crisis and facing many other challenges, that is – and always should have been – entirely out of the question.
It looks as if Westmount, at least as sole site, is over. So if not there, where? The obvious answer is surely the Waterfront: a large, level site, well-served by the road network and close to the existing hospital. But for some reason – it seems because of political pressure – that option was ruled out early on. Now that other construction work has substantially reduced the available development space, a rethink is probably too late – but what a missed opportunity. The new government seems to be leaning towards a hybrid solution: renovate and extend the existing facility, while expanding the Overdale campus. Not ideal, but we are where we are, and that may be the least-bad option available.
The toxic legacy of the previous administration becomes ever more apparent. Not just the hospital fiasco, but the unsure handling of the Covid pandemic, the failure to craft a meaningful immigration policy, a cavalier disregard for prudent financial management, the ‘one-gov’ farce with its Orwellian ‘communications’ unit specialising in obfuscation, the botched organisational reforms crafted by former chief executive Charlie Parker, and the inept (and costly) removal of Mr Parker himself.
As I write, an impressive new office block is rising on the site of what was Cyril Le Marquand House – demolished after a lifespan of less than 40 years. The new building, to be leased from Dandara, will become the flagship headquarters of the government.
At a time when the Island’s finances are under strain and the construction industry is working flat-out on other schemes, nothing better epitomises the extravagance and aggrandisement of the Parker era than this lavish monument to bureaucratic supremacy.
Buildings aside, within the public sector there seems to be a deep malaise. I have previously likened the States administration to a hedgehog: a timorous, slow-moving creature that, once threatened, curls up into a ball with the spines on the outside. Now some of these spines seem to have been dipped in venom, which brings me to Revenue Jersey (the fancy new name for the old tax office).
Each year I prepare an income tax return for a very elderly relative who could not do this herself. After moving into a care home, she kept her previous house which was let out, giving rise to rental income which I duly recorded in the 2021 return. Weeks later the return was sent back with a scrawled message to the effect that another box, showing total rental, had been left blank. Since this figure was exactly the same as the other, it took just a moment to insert it and send the amended return back – only to receive in due course a tax assessment plus maximum penalty for a late return. Needless to say, the letter of protest I wrote has gone unanswered.
What happens when the boot’s on the other foot? At around the same time, my own 2021 tax assessment was delivered. Months later RJ came up with a corrected version in which the total sum due was revised up by 60%. RJ is the sluice-gate through which hundreds of millions of pounds of taxpayers’ money flow every year, so one might suppose absolute accuracy is paramount. What penalty, then, is imposed on officials who make such serious mistakes? Would I be correct in guessing none?
The ‘machinery of government’ seems to have gone through a particularly bad patch. Or maybe it’s just me. In the past 12 months, a straightforward request to Planning for change-of-use advice resulted in misleading information which it took them weeks to rescind. An important PCR test was vitiated when the results were mysteriously mislaid; no explanation or apology was forthcoming. At the hospital, a much-delayed eye operation had to be postponed again when the new lens went astray. And so on.
Perhaps I’ve just been unlucky, and these troubles are untypical, but I don’t think so. There is a groundswell of discontent among many people I’ve spoken to about declining standards of administration and officials who are unhelpful and uncaring. And that’s even supposing you can find someone to listen to your woes. The frequent inability to reach a human being who can actually sort things out has certainly made matters worse.
Of course, there are hundreds – probably thousands – of States employees who work hard and are dedicated to the delivery of efficient public services. They should be celebrated and become champions for the cultural changes that are urgently needed elsewhere.
Stories abound of an organisation in disarray, with poor leadership, low morale and unfilled vacancies. Suzanne Wylie has now been in post as head of the civil service for nine months. I wonder whether she fully appreciated just how daunting was the challenge facing her when she signed on.
