The Privatisation of New Years Eve
Originally printed in The Sydney Morning Herald
Interview with Josh Szeps on Breakfast ABC 702
Discussed and interviewed with ABC News
New Year’s Eve in Sydney used to be such a simple coming together. Dusting off that picnic rug, it was once as easy as making a few salads and buying some bread rolls with a chook, before placing some white wine into the cooler bag and organising the family to get down to the best vantage spot to watch the fireworks from. Whatsmore, it was always a night that was free.
However, more and more, local councils and government agencies are turning to a “user pays” template for New Years Eve. Created by the State Government, it’s a seductive blueprint for councils that complicates a once uncomplicated community event with short-sighted regulation and unnecessary overreach. In order to gain access to the most sought after public-space vantage points, Sydneysiders must now purchase tickets online for the minimum price of about $40 per adult.
Introduced as far back as 2011 by the Office of Environment and Heritage, to spots such as the Botanical Gardens and Bradley’s Head on the North Shore (current ticket price around $60 per adult), local furore at the time was immediate. Seemingly undeterred though by such raucous public sentiment, it is a concept that has been ramped up in use ever since.
And with their jobs now suddenly made easier by such a package, the NSW police have been quietly encouraging more local councils and government-sponsored organisations such as Property NSW (which manages the Circular Quay and The Rocks precincts), to adopt this ‘user pays’ approach for safety purposes. North Sydney Council will be trialling it at Blues Point this year and three more venues in The Rocks will now be ticketed.
But at the heart of it, what we are witnessing here a worrying trend towards the privatisation and outsourcing of our community’s largest coming together, with local councils and government agencies shirking their responsibilities around that. It’s an approach that stifles and separates an evening we’d normally expect to be riddled with a naturally-flowing ambience, whilst seeking to ‘autopilot’ a community event that rather should be invested in and nurtured.
Curious about the concept (and angry), I rang a few councillors to find out more. “What will we be receiving additional safety from, exactly?” I asked. Alcohol is already banned for the rest of the entire foreshore. It is famously an evening dominated by family activity. Out of the 1.6 million revellers who attended last year, there were only 13 arrests. The Economist ranks Sydney the 7th safest city in the world, ahead of Stockholm and Zurich. So where lies the danger that we need additional protection from? I didn’t receive many answers.
The clean-up costs for the abundance of mess that we all make are exorbitant too, councillors told me. However, these are precisely the same councils that charge the highest council rates in Australia. Sydneysiders are already forking out $7 million dollars of our own money alone to fund the actual fireworks. On the flipside, it’s an evening that contributes $130 million to the local economy. The existing business model is thriving.
Although, it’s not until you take a further step back to consider all of the new rules and processes, alongside their new set of supplementary costs, that the absurdity of the concept becomes impossible to ignore.
Websites need to be built, information numbers setup (and manned) and ticketing partners contracted. Hundreds of security staff need to be hired, trained and paid at public holiday rates. Barriers and lighting must be rented, brought in on trucks, setup, dismantled and returned. Guests will only be allowed to access food from premium-priced food vans. Whilst booze is illegal on the rest of the foreshore, those with tickets can buy alcohol from newly setup bars at many of the venues. Management staff, bar staff and clean-up crews all need to hired and paid for. Bags and IDs will be checked upon entry – all of this simply to enter our own public land. How did it all get so ridiculous?
If you’re a local living within the vicinity of the events, your evening will also be made more complex. Those living at Blues Point, for example, will have IDs and bags checked just to gain access to their homes. Guests attending their parties will have alcohol confiscated if it hasn’t already been ‘carried in’ by 8am on New Years Eve. Without a prepaid ticket, residents will be barred from accessing their own public reserve. None of it makes any sense.
And if you’re not a local, perhaps travelling in from Western Sydney, then you can almost forget about it. Ticketing costs on top of tolls will make accessing the prime locations simply uneconomical for many families. One can’t help but feel there is a hint of exclusionism caked into all of it.
Should that be too strong a supposition for some, there is no doubting that we are being shoehorned towards a New Years Eve that is segregated. Split between those with tickets who have access to the best vantage points and alcohol – and the rest of us squeezing into the remaining vantage points while banned from even clinking a celebratory glass of champagne at midnight.
There is a tangible effervescence that sweeps right across Sydney, when all corners of the community come together to ring in the new year. That is something we need to protect as sacred, as is the free access to our own public spaces to experience that precious atmosphere. Sydney’s unique local spirit, with all of it’s summer charm, needs to be encouraged to be expressed – not fenced off and separated by our government and local councils.
However, unfortunately, a pattern is emerging. Bit by bit, Sydney’s New Years Eve is being tightened up with a mechanic that allows those in charge to step away from the responsibility of having to manage or pay for it. And if we’re not happy with this new path that we’re being shuffled down, then it is up to us to tell those in charge what we think about that. Afterall, that is what we pay them and elect them for.
