Tucked between a tiny restaurant and a small supermarket on Auckland’s colourful Karangahape Road, a laundromat doubling as a music installation offers customers a chance to listen to tunes while their washing completes a cycle.

It is the work of 34-year-old Auckland musician Jefferson Chen and artist Quentin Lind, 32. The pair chose a laundromat – rather than a gallery or online – to share their music while also serving another function: bringing together people from different walks of life.

“It’s really easy to exist online and not have these connections, and we’re also slowly losing our public spaces,” Lind tells the Guardian.

Getting people together is a topic of increasing concern in New Zealand, where social cohesion is fraying across every key measure. A report on cohesion that the Helen Clark Foundation released in May found financial stress, falling trust in government, and rising isolation are driving growing disconnection across the country of 5.3 million people.

The co-author, economist Shamubeel Eaqub, says New Zealand is not yet polarised, but warns it is becoming “fractured”.

“When we have a fractured society, it’s hard for us to be able to meet across difference and to make decisions that last the distance,” he says.

The report tracked attitudes in 2025 and compared them to results from a year earlier. The Guardian analysed a regional breakdown of the results, which revealed stark differences in the way New Zealand communities are experiencing life.

Four of the main issues were cost of living, falling trust in government, isolation and rising anti-immigrant attitudes. But there are glimmers of hope. Younger New Zealanders, between the ages of 18 and 35, feel far more optimistic about social cohesion than older generations.

Economic hardship in the far north

Northland, at the top of New Zealand, is the region hardest hit by the cost of living. Here, 39% of respondents experience food insecurity compared with the national average of 24%. More than half are financially dissatisfied.

Every Monday, about 180 people turn up to a community cafe that offers free and cheap food in the northern city of Whangārei, says Liz Cassidy‑Canning, the chief executive of Whare Āwhina, a Māori social support service and community law office. “That reflects the hardship our community is experiencing.”

Infrastructure is crumbling and communities are being pushed out of housing as it becomes pricier, but the region prides itself on its generosity, Cassidy‑Canning says.

“We are near the birthplace of the nation [Waitangi, where Māori tribes signed a treaty with the British crown] and that means something – the pride of being a local person is extended to people that come into the community … that extends to different ethnic communities.”

In Northland, economic frustration is not turning into anti-migrant sentiment, as it is elsewhere, the report found.

Rural isolation and doubts about democracy

New Zealand is gearing up for a general election in November, in which the cost of living, the economy, and health will be foremost in the minds of voters.

But politicians have another battle on their hands: regaining voter trust.

The report found trust in government institutions dropped from 42% in 2024 to 39% in 2025. Just 12% of New Zealanders believe the system of government is working fine, down 4% from 2024.

In the capital city, Wellington, a contradiction is playing out: here, most people believe New Zealand has fair elections, but just 22% are satisfied with how democracy is working.

For Wellington business owner Lucy Kebbell, the issue lies with those in charge.

“Our leaders no longer seem to use public interest as the paramount consideration for their policy or actions,” Kebbell says, adding that when New Zealand ushered in its mixed-member proportional system 33 years ago, she thought it would result in a more collaborative democracy.

“But it hasn’t really worked out like that … democracy feels like it’s being fought at the extremes.”

The Otago-Southland region, at the bottom of the South Island, is the most content with government systems. But its social connections are thinning: 20% of respondents feel isolated and nearly half feel disconnected from their community.

Jason Herrick – a former Southland dairy farmer of 31 years, who is throwing his hat in the ring for the populist New Zealand First party – had a mental health crisis in 2018. “It really opened my eyes up to what’s happening out there,” he says. “Rural communities are now even more isolated than they were 20, 30 years ago.”

Sports clubs are diminishing, and services have either closed down or moved to larger centres, separating rural communities by longer distances. “A lot of those social avenues are disappearing,” he says. “So people tend to isolate themselves on-farm now a lot more than they used to.”

National attitudes towards immigration, meanwhile, are becoming more negative. Multiculturalism is still viewed positively by 67% of the population, but that is the lowest ebb since 2011, while 31% believe immigrants take away jobs.

Poverty can harm social cohesion, Eaqub says, as those who are struggling are less likely to engage with their community, lose faith in systems and become more suspicious of immigration.

Waikato, in central North Island, and Bay of Plenty on the east coast reported higher levels of scepticism around immigration, and distrust in institutions such as courts.

Elsewhere, the effects of declining social cohesion are more muted. The Hawke’s Bay-Gisborne region, in the North Island, has the biggest “ambivalent middle” – people personally content but not plugged into community structures; while Canterbury – the country’s fastest growing region – is called “the quiet achiever”, reporting higher levels of connection and trust.

Strengthening social cohesion is vital for a resilient and inclusive society, Eaqub says. “Social cohesion isn’t a ‘nice to have’ – it’s what allows a country to make difficult decisions and navigate long-term challenges.”

Unity amid the struggle

In Auckland, New Zealand’s largest city, Lind and Chen are aware of the “dire circumstances” in their communities – fewer job opportunities, rising costs, and social isolation. But these are also driving their communities together.

“There is nothing quite like being in the same stitch-up, recognising each other’s challenges and struggles and just being like well, we’ve only got each other and we can trust each other and get creative with the hand we have been dealt,” Chen says.

But Aucklanders also report being more attracted to authoritarian governance – a position Lind and Chen are working against.

“We know that fascism is on the rise and if we don’t claim the spaces ourselves, then the right will be really quick to claim them – especially if people are lonely,” Lind says. “That’s why I think its really important we fill the room.”