Rethinking Public Value

14/04/2025

Navigating the tension between bureaucratic expertise and democratic mandate

A longer post than usual e te whānau. Also, it’s a little more policy wonk than my usual musings.

I’ve been noticing something curious lately. The phrase “public value” keeps popping up in government strategies and official documents. It’s often sitting right next to its familiar friend: “value for money.”

These aren’t new ideas, but they seem to be enjoying a comeback, offered as ways to show that government can still be purposeful, trustworthy, and responsive.

It’s easy to see why this appeals to so many. After decades of new public management and the disappointment of new public governance in not protecting the system from contract-driven thinking, a return to public purpose feels hopeful. It invites officials to imagine a more ambitious role for public servants: not just delivering what they’re told, but helping shape what truly matters.

However, I think some of the ideas underneath the public value model deserve a friendly second look. This is especially true here in Aotearoa New Zealand, where our constitutional arrangements aren’t simple: they’re plural and legitimacy flows from more than one source. This complexity is uniquely acknowledged in our system, where the Public Service Act 2020 formally gave officials a constitutional role in supporting active citizenship. These distinctive features of our context raise important questions about how public value theory applies here. So I’d like to gently walk through a few assumptions beneath public value thinking and explain why they might not quite fit in our particular needs. Remember, these are not my final thoughts. This substack is more like a platform for my out-loud musings.

Mark Moore’s original version of public value (1995) pictured public servants as guardians of civic purpose. He built his idea around what’s called the “strategic triangle.” This suggested public managers need to balance three things: what’s valuable to the public, what’s authorised by political leaders, and what can actually be delivered effectively. He described it as a way to keep managerial judgment grounded, neither too idealistic nor too focused on the next task.

Many people have picked up and adapted this structure since then. But there’s been quite a bit of friendly debate about how it works in real life. Rhodes and Wanna (2007) worried that public value gives public servants too much room to interpret value themselves. They were concerned that it blurs the line between giving advice and making political decisions. They remind us that public servants are there to serve the government of the day: they aren’t independent actors in our constitutional system.

John Alford (2008) offered a thoughtful response. He argued that when used properly, the model still requires public servants to anchor their work in what ministers authorise. He sees the triangle as a helpful discipline, not a blank cheque. Even he admits, though, that the language of public value can become too broad or too flattering if we’re not careful.

Perry (2007) and O’Flynn (2021) build on both perspectives. He points out that fragmented governance reduces visibility and clarity around who is accountable. He also says market logic incentivises efficiency over democratic values like equity or participation. O’Flynn shows in real settings that the triangle often gets used unevenly. What matters most is typically operational delivery, not political authorisation. And “value” tends to get defined by whoever happens to be closest, not necessarily by the public in all its remarkable complexity.

This conversation reminds me of what Christopher Hood (1991) noticed about new public management reforms that claimed to be neutral while at the very same time embedding particular value judgments. Despite sounding so appealing, in my humble opinion, public value might risk being one of those policy frames that promises agreement while giving officials more discretion. It might let bureaucracy win in the tension between it and democracy.

Let me explain why I think this might be happening.

Underneath these debates are a few assumptions that keep appearing. They’re not always clearly stated, but they shape how the public value model gets used. I’d like to gently name three of them and suggest why they need rethinking.

The first assumption is that value can be discovered. The public value model often suggests that if the public service consults well enough and holds enough co-design workshops, they’ll uncover a shared public interest. But in our country, there isn’t just one unified public. We have many publics, perspectives, and sources of authority, including Te Tiriti o Waitangi, local and regional government, and many private and community organisations that deliver public outcomes. Value, in this rich context and this networked and fragmented service delivery model, isn’t just waiting to be found: it needs to be negotiated, openly and accountably. I am not sure we ought to leave value to be defined only by those who happen to be in the room, forgetting those who aren’t present.

The second assumption is that public servants can act as neutral guardians. The model asks officials to align what they deliver with what matters to communities. However, without clarity about who defines that value, officials might start interpreting it themselves. This isn’t usually done purposefully, but it raises significant constitutional questions. Public servants aren’t meant to be interpreters of democratic will: they’re meant to work under the direction of elected governments. An experienced colleague once kindly reminded me: public servants advise, ministers decide.

The third assumption is that legitimacy can be built through a good process alone. Consultation, engagement, and involving stakeholders are all valuable activities. Co-design can be fascinating work. But they can’t replace a democratic mandate. If we rely on them too heavily, we might accidentally blur the lines between developing policy and making political decisions. I should clarify that I firmly believe we are both a representative and participatory democracy. Democratic acts aren’t reserved for elections alone: mandate and consent are sought and exchanged weekly, if not daily. The key distinction I am drawing is that these participatory processes must be authorised appropriately within our constitutional framework, not used as workarounds that sidestep political accountability.

None of this means we shouldn’t have purpose in public service. This post does not suggest going back to new public management-focused approaches either. But it is a gentle reminder that how public officials frame their work really matters.

When the government talks about public value, we must be careful not to suggest that officials can or should determine what counts as valuable. That authority belongs, quite rightly, to the government of the day. It comes from elections, from law, and constitutional relationships: not just from stakeholder agreement or good intentions presented by officials.

By the way, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be of service. Public servants already have a role that’s vital and honourable. It’s found in giving good advice, supporting lawful decisions, and delivering services to people on behalf of ministers, not in shaping the nation’s purpose themselves.

Public value might still be a helpful concept. But only if we treat it as something to be authorised, not assumed. At the same time, participation still matters greatly. Involving communities in policy, in commissioning services and in service delivery might be more important now than ever. But this, too, needs to be grounded in local decision-making power. That means creating space for community institutions to define their priorities, hold decision-making power, and shape services around their outcomes.

In that context, co-design isn’t just consultation and engagement: it’s governance. It’s the difference between being consulted and having control. Maybe that is where the public service can genuinely support public value: not by interpreting society’s purpose, but by providing resources and enabling communities to define and deliver it themselves.

While I’ve outlined concerns about public value theory, I recognise that the relationship between bureaucracy and democracy isn’t binary. Public servants often navigate complex scenarios where ministerial direction may be unclear, requiring judgment that inevitably shapes outcomes. The challenge isn’t to eliminate this judgment but to ensure it remains accountable to democratic processes.

Though my critique is grounded in Aotearoa New Zealand’s constitutional context, the tension between technical expertise and democratic authority exists in many systems. Different balances may be appropriate in other contexts.

Despite the limitations in the space available in a substack, I maintain that the core tension remains: public value theory risks obscuring rather than clarifying the proper relationship between professional judgment and democratic authority. I hope by bringing this tension to light, we can all approach these frameworks more mindfully.

References

Alford, J. (2008). The limits to public value, or rescuing responsible government from the Platonic guardians. Australian Journal of Public Administration, 67(4), 357–366.

Hood, C. (1991). A public management for all seasons? Public Administration, 69(1), 3–19.

Moore, M. H. (1995). Creating public value: Strategic management in government. Harvard University Press.

O’Flynn, J. (2007). From new public management to public value: Paradigmatic change and managerial implications. Australian Journal of Public Administration, 66(3), 353–366.

Perry, J. L. (2007). Democracy and the new public service. The American Review of Public Administration, 37(1), 3-16.*

Rhodes, R. A. W., & Wanna, J. (2007). The limits to public value, or rescuing responsible government from the Platonic guardians. Australian Journal of Public Administration, 66(4), 406–421.

Footnote: I’m deeply aware that many who read this Substack carry real and pressing concerns about the quality of political leadership in Aotearoa New Zealand: about whether today’s political class is capable of governing in the interests of all, not just some. I’ll return to that question in a future post, because it deserves its own space and clarity.

*Apologies: I had O’Flynn in here instead of Perry. Note to self: don’t trust my paperpile system without doing a good peer review.