We know very little about the individual, except that he has a strong Christian faith, teaches maths and is a man.

Why was he de-registered?

A student had decided to transition from female to male, and the teacher—because of his beliefs — refused to use their new pronouns or name. We don't know too much about the student.

The Tribunal's decision assumes transitioning in adolescence cannot be easy. Perhaps the teacher might have been more reasonable. The student offered a compromise: Don't worry about the pronouns but use my new name.

Still, the teacher refused, saying he didn't want the student (quoting from the full decision) to "go down the path of sin."

Homosexuality and abortion were invoked as examples of the latter to the Tribunal.

The Tribunal asserts that while you may hold such views privately, expressing them publicly is "disgraceful." Think what you like; guard what you say.

While "sin" may not have been the best response from the teacher, would denying their belief and dishonestly accepting the student's new identity be any more productive?

No matter. Thanks to this ruling, it seems that relativism, the notion that you have your truth and I have mine, is officially dead.

Instead, two rights collide: the right to determine your gender and the right to refuse that determination on the grounds of religious faith. Only one can win, with significant collateral damage.

A commentator has suggested that this decision indicates that the Human Rights Act (which defends good conscience) is increasingly unfit for purpose.

In the same week the Teacher's Council decision became public, the Broadcasting Standards Authority announced it could decline complaints relying on "transphobic tropes," including the view that gender identity was a mechanism to exploit women.

Some arguments are no longer acceptable, even if made honestly.

Do you see a pattern developing?

Teacher de-registration can only occur for serious matters: forming an inappropriate sexual relationship with a student, sharing pornography or alcohol or drugs with them, etc.

Ultimately the Tribunal de-registered the teacher because of the "likelihood" of causing the student emotional harm and bringing the teaching profession into disrepute.

Likely harm was thus made equal to actual harm (sex, porn and drugs). In such an environment, proportion frays.

Let's touch on a case against a teacher who wasn't deregistered. This teacher lied about taking classes, faked grades, forged a Head of Department's signature, and hired a gang member to kneecap her principal. No de-registration.

Given that there's a clear want of balance about what arguments will be refused by the powerful, there's also a risk that this unacceptability virus might infect our politics.

Relativism (which necessarily requires tolerance) means you should listen to what you may think are disgraceful arguments so that you may fillet them. You have the freedom to be critical. That's indispensable for a worthwhile election.

Only, some freedoms are no longer free.

• Tim Wilson is the Executive Director of the Maxim Institute.
• First published by the Maxim Institute. Republished with permission.

Meaningful social connection—especially with people we can be ourselves around, people we can call on in times of need—is a basic human need.

But just like these other needs, if left unmet for long periods of time, there are serious social, emotional, and health consequences.

Prolonged loneliness, for example, is associated with an increased risk of depression, addiction, anxiety, heart disease, dementia, sleep disturbances, and even premature death.

We might assume this mostly affects older New Zealanders, but research shows it is our youth that are feeling the most disconnected.

They are up to four-and-a-half times more likely to experience prolonged loneliness than older New Zealanders.

Sole parents and unemployed people also have relatively higher rates of loneliness.

Loneliness is no different to hunger or thirst; a signal from our bodies that we need something

Job losses, physical distancing, and general emotional uncertainty surrounding COVID-19 have only made things worse.

Before the lockdown last year, around 3.5 percent of New Zealanders were feeling lonely—a small but significant minority.

During the lockdown this rate rose to around 11 percent, settling to about 9 percent afterwards.

Youth rates are higher: around 20 percent felt lonely during lockdown, only dropping to 17 percent afterwards.

There has clearly been a post-pandemic relational toll; the new normal is lonelier than before.

Other countries have put loneliness squarely on the policy table.

In 2018, the United Kingdom government led the way, recognising this as a policy issue years ago with a Minister of Loneliness working on a "Loneliness Strategy" aimed at increasing data collection, front-line mental health workers, and funding community projects to name a few responses.

Earlier this year the Japanese Government appointed a new Minister responsible for alleviating loneliness and social isolation.

Whether we appoint a Minister or not, we must follow suit.

We cannot afford to ignore the cost of loneliness and isolation on society.

But it's not easy area to make ground. Years in, the UK Government is only just getting the measures and strategies bedded in.

Governments are great at many things, but relational connection is not one of them.

Just because loneliness is of policy interest doesn't mean Government can alleviate it alone.

We all have a role to play in pursuing a New Zealand where we all belong.

In a recently-released book by the U.S Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy on loneliness, his recommendations had surprisingly little to do with policy settings.

Simple things like devoting time to spend with loved ones, focusing attention and avoiding multi-tasking when relating, and serving others wherever we can form the foundation of a response.

Policy-wise, keeping the economy afloat with people in jobs and supporting those out of work will make a difference here, but above and beyond this economic response, this is a policy area where the Government is best set to coordinate an overarching strategy and to fund, support and protect community organisations with human faces and open arms for those struggling with loneliness.

We all have a role to play in pursuing a New Zealand where we all belong.

• Kieran Madden is Maxim Institute's Research Manager, leading and guiding our research programme.
• First published by the Maxim Institute. Republished with permission.

Unfortunately, that sounds a lot like Trail of Tears, a series of forced death marches Native American tribes were sent on by the US Government between 1830-1850.

A New Zealand academic, Professor Joanna Kidman, discovered the dress online and posted "I guess it's cool to be ironic about genocide" on Twitter. Twitter produced headlines; Trelise Cooper swiftly apologised.

She shouldn't have.

True, not apologising seems un-Kiwi. Even if you haven't sought to upset someone in person, but find you have, the most polite thing you can do is say sorry, and move on.

That's how we resolve these things person-to-person.

But this is not a person-to-person situation, and it's about more than a fashion faux pas.

Trelise Cooper didn't know about the American Trail of Tears. "The mistake was made out of ignorance," she wrote in her apology. Use of "ignorance" suggests she should have known more about U.S. history.

Why?

The event occurred in another country.

In the US, they're still struggling to teach the topic properly to high school students. We've only just mandated our own curriculum about New Zealand history.

Ignorance implies an uncommon lack of awareness. Not knowing something is quite different.

Had Trelise Cooper released a "Parihaka party" dress, that would be outrageous.

New Zealanders should reasonably be expected to know our own history and racial insensitivity and injustice shouldn't go unchallenged. But everyone can't be expected to know everything.

Once, as a social experiment for television, I spent the day asking random people to name the Leader of the Opposition.

Most had no idea.

Also, intent matters. We know this from disciplining our kids. If Tommy meant to hit Sally, he goes to time out. If he didn't, we'd encourage him to be careful and show compassion, but he isn't reprimanded the same way.

So what was Trelise Cooper guilty of, actually?

She was "guilty" of using a sound-alike phrase that accurately described her own design. The person who found this and made the connection didn't contact the fashion label directly; instead posting derisively on social media, directing others to the perceived slight.

If all of this sounds familiar, Trelise Cooper has apologised in the past for putting Native American headdress on runway models. And a couple of months before this brouhaha, Professor Kidman was praising people on Twitter for generating signatures to a petition against what she called the racist sacking of Waikato professors.

One of the subjects of the petition later said that people need to tone it down on Twitter.

All of this is a somewhat mild example of a much bigger problem within the social media and news media eco-system.

We know the script too well: public accusation, amplification, pile-on, apology.

Sadly Cooper's apology doesn't address the fundamental problems with this kind of culture of public shaming I've described.

Yes, it does divert the online heat and headlines away from the target…but in the long term, the cyber rage continues to blaze. Perhaps it's even magnified.

Anger comes from a natural moral desire to end injustice—a righteous indignation. It is right to want to bring an end to racial injustice and for people to not want to perpetuate insensitivity.

But how righteous is it to incinerate someone publicly when you don't know whether they're erring deliberately?

Moral ends aren't justified by immoral means. And trying to embarrass, shame, and terrorise un-knowing people into submission may be the road to clickbait, but it isn't the road to cultural growth and mutual understanding.

Perhaps Professor Kidman could have contacted Trelise Cooper directly before the Twitter maelstrom.

They might have had a private conversation. If that approach doesn't work out, by all means, dial up the mob…

We need more authenticity in our discussions of these issues, not less. And we don't need performances of outrage, or apology.

We can do better.

Let's give the real thing a try.

• Tim Wilson
• First published by the Maxim Institute - republished with permission.

Let's take the recent changes aimed at limiting the ability of low-income migrant spouses to work here as an example.

While these changes are aimed at ensuring that those on partnership visas don't make it harder for local people to find low-paid work, the unfortunate reality is that these changes may end up as an own goal in the long term.

Balancing the needs of a host community with the needs of migrants is not always easy.

Certainly there is evidence from MBIE that in New Zealand's horticultural regions the employment of temporary migrant spouses is having a negative effect on the new hiring of beneficiaries and youth.

But the same reports show that in other places and industries temporary migration has a positive effect on the employment of New Zealanders.

What we can say is when it comes to building healthy resilient communities, the way a community treats migrants and the way migrants invest in their host communities are both really important.

Case studies in rural Queensland have found that when workers did not feel attached to a community they often underinvested in the long-term health of the community.

These studies also show when the community didn't invest in the migrants to ensure attachment with the overall effect, it led to a downward spiral in community connectedness.

The migrant and the community in effect became two groups of "consumers," taking from each other just what they wanted. The long term result was that a small town became an even less attractive place to be.

So how does a community build attachment to a place?

It often means ensuring migrants are seen as part of a wider family and community.

The way a community treats migrants and the way migrants invest in their host communities are both really important.

For us looking at the issue of spousal employment, it means doing everything we can to support spouses to be attached to a wider community.

Often this means finding meaningful work. OECD evidence from Norway, for example, shows that migrants with an employed partner are more likely to stay than those with an inactive partner.

For male migrants "the retention rate was almost twice as high when their spouse was working."

A similar effect was found in the Netherlands when looking at highly-skilled migrants.

We need to remember that even if the principal applicant is highly skilled, their spouse may not be.

A labour market test may compound the informal barriers that the partner faces.

Overall, building stronger communities needs more than just ensuring a local supply of workers. It means seeing these workers as part of a wider family and when it comes to migration policy focusing more on long-term outcomes than short term expediency.

Ensuring a community is strong requires that all kinds of people put down roots, claim a place as their own and work together to build a healthy community.

The welcome we offer to new members is the first opportunity to grow such a community.

• Julian Wood - writing for the Maxim Institute. Republished with permission.

Research has found that loneliness can have a negative impact on a person's health as significant as the effect of "smoking 15 cigarettes a day."

While loneliness is increasing in numbers amongst New Zealanders both young and old, this is not a problem unique to New Zealand.

An essay by the former US Surgeon General claims that loneliness in the US has reached "epidemic levels," while in Britain, following the recommendations of the Jo Cox Commission on Loneliness, Tracey Crouch has become the world's first Minister for Loneliness.

In an interview with the Huffington Post, Crouch notes her new position has garnered attention from around the world, including New Zealand.

However, our own government have no plans for such a position just yet.

Instead, Tracey Martin, Minister for Seniors has said, the government hoped to utilise the Positive Ageing Strategy, due to be released later this year, to get an idea of the scale of loneliness amongst older New Zealanders.

The British Minister for Loneliness is using her role to encourage awareness of this issue, and to provide the infrastructure for reducing loneliness.

It will be interesting to see how she can overcome one major problem with her role: the government cannot love people.

In fact, when the Minister for Loneliness was first announced US comedian Stephen Colbert made this comment: "They took the most ineffable human problem and came up with the most cold, bureaucratic solution.

How is it supposed to work?

The Ministry has reviewed your application and you're not lonely enough, I'm afraid.

Your application for affection has been denied."

Obviously, this was said this in jest during a comedy routine, but Colbert makes an important point.

There is a difference between getting ready for an appointment with a social worker and looking forward to spending time with a friend you share a long-standing connection with. Personal relationship is certainly going to be much more effective at combatting loneliness, and yet it can't be written into policy.

What does this mean?

We can't ignore that many people in our society are vulnerable to loneliness, and without passing the problem on to government to fix, it can be difficult to imagine how anything might change.

The thing is, the solution is actually pretty simple - it's building relationships and communities that will overcome the loneliness.

Already many communities are doing great things.

Menz Shed's (community spaces for woodwork or electronics), communities where the older generation often lives together with the younger family members, and school kids helping elderly people learn to use smartphones, are just a few ways spaces are being created to build relationships and in turn reduce loneliness.

While it can be easy to get caught up in the fancy titles and big policy ideas it's important to remember that thriving communities and generous people, rather than government and policies, will always be the most effective tools for combatting loneliness.

• Danielle van Dalen leads the Maxim Institute" current research project looking at the intersection of disability, employment, and poverty.
• First published at the Maxim Institute. Republished with permission.

In response, MPs may be tempted to think they can fix the Bill—narrowing the scope, tightening the wording, maybe limiting it to terminal illness and ditching the current provision for grievous and irremediable medical conditions.

But in reality, even the safest version of this Bill would be dangerous.

This is a hard thing to say and to hear, when there are many stories of suffering and pain that each of us will hope we never have to go through.

Both sides of the debate are motivated by compassion and concern for the vulnerable. No-one is coming at this with the intent to harm, but good intentions are not enough.

Researching the international law and experience in places like Oregon, Washington State, Canada, Belgium, and the Netherlands, we find four main issues with even a restricted version of the Bill.

Too broad a criteria

First, the eligibility criteria would be broad.

Even if limited to people with a terminal illness likely to end their life within six months, doctors acknowledge that prognosis is more art than science.

Oregon has a provision like this, but their official reports show that in 2017, somewhere between 1 and 14 people who were prescribed lethal drugs went on to live longer than their six-month prognosis.

Other jurisdictions failure

Second, other jurisdictions have failed to craft effective safeguards.

For example, the Bill states that a person must express a desire for euthanasia or assisted suicide free from pressure.

However, pressure is very difficult to detect and requires a long-term relationship between doctor and patient.

In Oregon last year, the median doctor-patient relationship before an assisted suicide prescription was just 10 weeks.

Dividing society unequally

Increasing numbers of people in Washington and Oregon have named being a burden on family and friends as one of the reasons they opted for assisted suicide.

In Washington last year, this was 56 percent of the people who received a lethal prescription.

Although the numbers vary each year, the trend is rising steadily.

Patients may name other reasons too, like loss of autonomy, but for a Bill that is based on an ideal of free choice, the rising burden statistics should be a serious concern.

Third, whatever the safeguards, legalising euthanasia and assisted suicide would divide society into two unequal groups.

We'd be telling some people to hang on to life, because their suicide would be a tragedy.

We'd be telling others that their suicide is an understandable, rational act, that under the circumstances we agree their lives are not worth living. This underlying logic has no natural limits.

Small start points expand with time

This leads to the fourth issue.

The practise of euthanasia and assisted suicide tend to expand over time.

There's no reason to think we'd be immune.

For example, in 2014, Belgium made children of any age eligible to seek euthanasia, albeit with stricter criteria.

We cannot always control what happens after something like this has been legalised.

Passing this law would be a momentous turning point, one that would fundamentally change the make-up of our society.

We have never before said that it is acceptable to kill people because they are sick or dying or disabled, or that we'll accept them killing themselves.

Risks too great

Passing this law would be a momentous turning point, one that would fundamentally change the make-up of our society.

Parliaments around the world consistently reject bills like this one, because they recognise that the risks are simply too great.

Even the most tightly restricted version of this Bill would see people slip through the cracks—people who are misdiagnosed, who feel like a burden, who aren't caught by the safeguards.

Their deaths would be wrongful deaths—wrong according to the Bill's own criteria.

As UK Professor Onora O'Neil outlines, if we lived in a perfect world, maybe a Bill like this could be considered.

Doctors infallible

In this world, doctors would be infallible and their decisions and predictions would always be right.

Patients would be completely rational, never making decisions out of fear, pressure, or unstable emotions.

Families would be loving, compassionate and unselfish, with never a thought for their inheritance. But in the real world we live in, legalising euthanasia or assisted suicide should be a non-starter.

It's just too risky.

• This column represents the evidence and arguments delivered by Alex Penk (pictured) and Danielle van Dalen in Maxim Institute's Oral Submission to the Justice Select Committee as they considered the End of Life Choice Bill.
• First published at the Maxim Institute. Republished with permission.
• This column was also published in Fairfax newspapers on Wednesday 20 June 2018 and on stuff.co.nz
• Image: Maxim Institute