This week, the government announced homeless move-on orders for town centres across New Zealand, framing the policy around public safety and visible crime. The message: young people are out of control, and something must be done.

Here's what the data actually says: youth drug offences in New Zealand just hit their lowest point in 32 years.

In 2024, youth courts processed 48 drug-related offences. That's not 48 per region or 48 per month. That's 48 total, nationwide, for the entire year. (Source: Stats NZ, youth-court-orders)

To understand how dramatic this drop is, you need to see where we were. In 2021, at the height of post-lockdown disruption, youth drug offences hit 156 cases. Three years later, they've fallen by 69%. Go back further: in the mid-2000s, youth courts were processing over 1,000 drug cases per year. In 1998, the peak year on record, there were 1,296 cases.

From 1,296 to 48. That's a 96% decline over two decades.

This isn't a blip. The trajectory is clear and sustained. After spiking briefly during COVID, youth drug offences have returned to record lows. In 2022, they dropped to 48. In 2023, they rose slightly to 72. Now they're back to 48 again.

So why does the political conversation sound like we're in the middle of a youth crime crisis?

Because fear is louder than data. Because anecdotes about antisocial behaviour in town centres make better headlines than a 32-year downward trend. Because when you're announcing a crackdown, you don't lead with the numbers that suggest the crackdown isn't necessary.

None of this means there aren't serious issues with youth offending in other categories. But on drugs specifically, the story is unambiguous: New Zealand's young people are committing fewer drug offences than at any point since the data began. Whatever we're doing, whether it's diversion programmes, changes in policing, or shifts in youth culture itself, it's working.

The political debate pretends otherwise. It talks about young offenders as if their numbers are spiralling upward, as if every town centre is overrun, as if the situation demands urgent, sweeping intervention.

The youth court data tells a different story. One that's been unfolding quietly for two decades while nobody was paying attention.