They can’t eat cake with no one to bake
It would be a total cop-out to say that this pandemic has been “tough.” We’re all looking for a reprieve, searching for the light at the end of the tunnel. We want our lives back; we want our old pleasures back; we want more than to survive. We want to thrive.
But when we finally crawl out of our apartments and flats, our cityscape is going to look pretty bleak, especially at the rate we’re going. It will be expensive, lifeless and frankly, dull. Because while the government continues to stall on innovative and progressive economic policy, Aotearoa’s cultural life is dying. Namely, the hospitality sector. I’ve been working in hospitality for over 12 years. I grew up in the “back” section of restaurants, scrubbing bathroom floors and being spat at by wealthy patrons but also delighting in staff meals, making everlasting friendships and genuinely nurturing my love of food. As hard as the work is, it’s remarkable to be in the centre of a bustling dining scene. However, this is the most frightful and bleak moment for restaurants in all my time in the industry, particularly in Auckland.
As we settle into the current Red Light setting and as the cases of Omicron climb each day, the hospitality sector in Auckland has had its life support switched off. While office workers flee the city and people hunker down in their homes, downtown has become desolate. People are understandably afraid to go out, and the central hubs that were once pumping - Ponsonby, the Viaduct, Commercial Bay, the CBD, Karangahape Road - have become a ghost town. In terms of cash flow, restaurants throughout town have had one of their worst weeks ever.
Just as we see worldwide, there is a gaping and growing disparity between those who can work from home and those who can’t. Everyone in hospitality, from the barista to the chef to the dishie to the runner to the Maitre’d, are in a desperate situation. The city looks and feels like last year’s Alert Level 3, except this time there is no wage subsidy, no rent relief, no softening of the blow from the IRD or the banks. For us, this Omicron outbreak is undoubtedly the most challenging hill to climb during the pandemic. We risk losing our staff during a massive labour shortage; all that training, love and time, and camaraderie will be for nothing. Many are at risk of closing altogether.
Our position and demands are clear. The government must give the hospitality sector tangible and immediate support, or Auckland will lose its cultural life. There are many simple ways the government can and should help us by:
Imposing commercial rent reductions;
Extending our loan terms with the banks/ allowing for an interest-free period;
Support in retaining our highly-skilled workforce through a targeted wage subsidy for hospitality or a worker furlough scheme similar to what was done in the UK;
Supporting us in our obligations to the local councils through easing of our licensing fees and/or allowing restaurants to operate off-license as we move to more contactless takeaway and delivery.
These supports are not unreasonable. For example, an interest-free period provided by the banks would barely make a small dent in the massive profits they have made during this pandemic. The hospitality sector are good customers and good tenants to our corporate overlords, and it’s time they gave back during this unprecedented time.
Capitalists are shortsighted when it comes to public health, which is why they demanded an end to lockdowns to “save the economy”, as though people wouldn’t change their behaviour when a highly virulent contagious virus is allowed to circulate freely. The industries and workers paying the highest price are those of us hospitality. At the same time, the rest of the capitalist class have become richer and richer. When it comes to the capitalist economy, hospitality is at the bottom of the rung, squeezed dry by banks and landlords. It’s a low-profit business model and low-wage work, and it’s often exploitative and relatively lawless. That is why the flashy and cruel “small” businessman figures in our city, like Leo Molloy and Ed Verner, are renowned. These Mr Krabbs kind of guys are what you get when you create all the wrong types of incentives and economic structures. All the more reason to intervene, and to intervene out of love. Saving hospitality from the immediate ravages of the pandemic is only the start. Restaurants, cafes and bars shouldn’t be excluded from our socialist imagination. Even in our contemporary democracy, with all its failings, it’s totally within the realm of central government to curb banks and landlords in their relentless pursuit of profit. Why not think bigger? State investment into hospitality means there are well-paid workers are recognised for their skill and passion. With rent control customers will have all the choice in the world if there is a thriving ecosystem of independently owned and operated spots much loved by their communities. We could easily have better and cheaper produce and products for everyone with price controls.
Supporting our hospitality industry is money well spent. We are what make our cities unique. We are there for every special event; the first date, graduation, reunion, engagement dinner, office lunch, a night out with friends after a hard week. Auckland is also one of the most diverse cities globally, which is seen in its dining culture. We offer unique experiences not just in “hip” or “fusion” spots but in global cuisines in all their regional specificities; from Persian food to Yemenite dishes, food from Nepal to Sri Lanka, from the Philippines to modern Maori cuisine, From France to the Balkans, food from every corner of China from Xinjiang to Guangzhou. There is so much at stake here. Places are already closing. If we are not careful, we could return to the New Zealand that Colin McCahon described as a “land without lovers.” Just tea houses and pubs. We are desperate to keep our lights on, and we want to keep feeding people.
Most importantly, we want to keep Auckland’s cultural life alive. If the government does not act now, Auckland city and other urban hubs will die. When the borders open and the tourists, workers, families, friends, and lovers alike return to the city, nothing will welcome them.
Avigail Allan is a filmmaker and hospitality worker living in Tamaki Makaurau. She originally comes from Israel/Palestine
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