26 November 2014

I have thought for many years that the State Services Commission was redundant and should be abolished.

I felt that in these days of more autonomy for departmental chief executives the oversight role of the SSC was no longer necessary, and that the responsibility should rest with individual chief executives.

Recent events have forced me to change that view. Ironically, the utter ineptitude of the SSC’s handling of the Sutton case has been the reason. Here was a case of serious misconduct by a chief executive – which did require external intervention – which was so mishandled by the SSC as to draw attention to the need for it to be seriously reformed.

It should start at the top. The State Services Commissioner has performed very poorly in this instance, and should be replaced. A more vibrant, independent leadership, not politically beholden to the government of the day is needed to oversee reshaping the SSC to become a more performance improvement and professional standards monitor of government agencies and their chief executives, rather than the defender of the status quo and protector of the government’s perceived interests it seems to be at present.

In the same vein, the role of the Department of Prime Minister and Cabinet merits review. Too often, the DPMC has been seen as a protective mirror image of the SSC, each bolstering and supporting the other, rather than independent agencies carrying out separate functions. The attendance and performance of the DPMC chief executive at the infamous Sutton press conference highlights the point. Worse, however unfounded, is the implication of a very cosy arrangement between CERA, the SSC and DPMC, and Mr Sutton to resolve his situation in a way that minimised embarrassment, with no apparent regard for the victim(s) involved. DPMC should never forget that its role is to provide the Prime Minister of the day with the best possible advice and information on current issues, but not to act, as increasingly appears the case, as some sort of political praetorian guard.

State sector reform since the 1980s has been allegedly about promoting greater transparency and accountability. In the light of the Sutton case, a justifiable argument can be mounted that those principles have been well and truly cast aside, at least by central agencies. Serving the public interest appears to have given way to keeping the ship of state on a smooth course. That is the job of politicians, not public servants, and when they start to confuse the roles, it is time they were moved on.        

The only good to emerge from the Sutton case is to learn from all the bad practices it contains. The failings of Mr Sutton, the SSC and the DPMC are now obvious and need to be addressed. Beyond that lies the wider issue of the reform of the key agencies themselves.

But the biggest issue – and the one still unspoken of – is the impact on the victim(s) in both this case, and the many other potential cases continuing undetected across the public sector.

Now, that would be a task a fit for purpose SSC could really focus its attention upon.

   

  

 

 

 

 

18 November 2014

The case of Phillip John Smith has raised many questions which are now the subject of a number of inquiries so it is therefore imprudent to be commenting too specifically about it before these have been completed. However, it does raise broader issues regarding individual privacy in age of increasingly joined-up government.  

As a constituency MP, I am struck constantly by the number of people I see who genuinely assume that their basic information is already readily accessible by a range of government agencies. Moreover, they seem somewhat surprised – and in some cases become quite agitated (“I have already given that information to such and such a government agency”) – when asked to provide it again. They not only expect their information to have been passed on, but seem to think that is acceptable.

But, by way of contrast, people appear far more concerned at a global level about the sharing of their personal information and the implication that nothing is private any more, and that their every communication, indeed activity, is monitored in some way by an increasingly inquisitive state. And all this is occurring against a backdrop of a communications revolution which is making the capacity to obtain and share information greater day by day, and where the whole process of government is increasingly technologically driven.

This apparent contradiction has particular implications for New Zealand. We are at the forefront of nations when it comes to joined-up government services, and New Zealanders are increasingly taken with the idea of doing their business with government – like paying their taxes, or renewing their passports – on-line, and at a time of their convenience. They like the freedom new circumstances are now providing, and are pushing the government to do more in that space.

So when a case like Smith arises people properly want to know why the relevant agencies did not have access to all the relevant information at the earliest opportunity, and as a matter of course. Our lack of tolerance for Smith’s behaviour is understandable, and we have some lessons to learn from what has happened to ensure there are no repeats.

Now, a number of challenges lie within all of this. The information technology explosion has only just begun, and it would be foolish to think otherwise. Today’s challenges are likely to seem miniscule to those that lie ahead.

The potential advantages of joined-up government are great – particularly to the individual – but so too are the risks. Information sharing is the way of the future, but it needs to be balanced by ensuring that our privacy and official information legislation, and official functions like those of the Ombudsman and the Privacy Commissioner are kept fit for purpose to ensure they can effectively protect the individual from any Orwellian risks inherent in the expansion of joined-up government. The balance between information sharing to enhance people’s lives, and information sharing to control them is a fine one, demanding constant vigilance. There is, after all, now no turning back.

  

 

 

 

 

12 November 2014

“Curiouser and curiouser,” said Alice in Wonderland in 1865. “I don’t much care where – just so as I get somewhere.”

A couple of recent events remind me that nearly 150 years later, Alice’s plea still has a great deal of relevance.

Last year, as amendments were being made to legislation governing the GCSB there was a great deal of comment about the changes being made introducing a new era of transparency and accountability for the hitherto shadowy intelligence agencies. A process of regular five yearly independent reviews was established and assurances given that henceforth no New Zealanders would be spied on improperly.

Any surveillance warrants issued would have to be promptly reported to the Inspector-General of Security and so on and so forth. In short, the clear message was that the days of warrantless surveillance were over.

Or so it seemed – until last week and the proposed introduction of the 48 hour warrant free fishing expedition to allow the authorities to snoop around a person of interest for up to 48 hours without a warrant to see if more detailed surveillance was necessary. All this is not only at total variance with last year’s decisions, but is coming even before the first of the independent reviews due to get underway in the middle of next year. ISIS is the presumed pretext, but the scope of the proposal is breathtaking. It should be deferred, at least until the independent reviews of the GCSB and SIS have taken place.

In the same vein was the announcement a couple of days ago by a group of South Island Mayors that they wanted the right to control where and how any psychoactive substances approved in the future could be handled in their areas. They realised that it was difficult to ban these substances outright because their composition changed regularly, but they wanted the right to determine things locally.

That all seems realistic and reasonable. It mirrors what I have been saying for over three years about the difficulty of dealing with this issue. More importantly, it mirrors provisions written into the psychoactive substances legislation when it was going through Parliament last year – and at the specific request of local government – to allow local authorities to develop policy plans for the sale and distribution of these substances in their areas.

Yet for at least the last twelve months, Mayors have been railing against these provisions, saying they shift the burden of responsibility from central to local government and are a cop-out which will not work. And what is even more bizarre, they now say that the solution lies in their implementing the very provisions they have been so staunchly opposing, despite having called for them in the first place. Well, yes, that was why Parliament gave them the power they requested.

It all smacks of Alice’s wishful journey to somewhere – just anywhere. The destination has become secondary to the perception that someone is doing something, somewhere.

Curiouser and curiouser indeed.    

    

  

 

 

 

 

6 November 2014

Solid Energy’s decision not to re-enter the Pike River mine is awful, horrific and tragic – especially for the families concerned – but is almost certainly correct in the circumstances.

That is a painful thing to say and will understandably not be well received by the affected families, who have been allowed to cling to the hope of recovery since the very first day of the tragedy. I fully understand that, and am by no means confident that I would think any differently were I in their position.

Whatever way one views it, Pike River has been an unmitigated tragedy at every level in the needless loss of the lives of the 29 miners, the prevarication and obfuscation in the immediate aftermath of the explosions, the revelations about the company’s lax management and safety standards, and the too many false dawns of hope the grieving families have been given. It is far too much expect decent people to bear, yet they have done so with remarkable bravery and stoic dignity. But, sadly, now it is time to move on.

The latest edition of the New Zealand Geographic magazine captures the situation starkly and well in its article “The Uncompromising Chemistry of Tragedy”. In a dispassionate way, it describes the chemical reactions that occurred at the time of the explosions, the immediate impact they would have had on the miners, and the risks and level of the buildup of methane gases in the mineshaft. It makes it all too clear how forlorn the hope of recovery would be in a virtual incinerator. It is compelling reading.

At a broader level, the article makes it clear that the way in which the families were treated immediately afterwards, while probably intended as sympathetic, in fact created a situation where precisely the opposite has been the case. The hope given to the families from the outset has now been shown to have been false – and to have been so from day one. Hope can often be a powerful stimulant, but false hope is never more than a cruel hoax.

So, where to from here to give the families the sense of closure and solace they have been seeking and deserve? I suggest that the formal designation of the mine site and its surrounds as a recognised grave site and memorial to the memory of the men would be appropriate.

The Pike River families have paid a dreadful price for their men’s careers. One way of helping them move forward would be to stop the litanies of false hopes and half truths they have been subjected to over recent years. Formally declaring the mine site as an official grave site is a way we can recognise that while their men are not coming back they are being allowed to rest in peace, with the dignity and respect that they deserve.        

 

30 October 2014

My Irish forbears were staunchly republican. I have inherited that trait. So, you would think I would welcome the Prime Minister’s plan for a couple of referenda on changing the New Zealand flag to something more distinctive.

Do not get me wrong – I do, but, at the same time, I think it is a really wasted opportunity. The process is estimated to cost around $26 million and at the end of it all we will either have a new flag, or not, as the people will decide. Nothing else will have changed.

MPs and others swearing oaths of loyalty will still be required to swear them to the Queen. The activities of the state will still be carried out in her name or those of “her heirs and successors”, who will still live on the other side of the world, with no direct or meaningful involvement in or understanding of the lives of contemporary New Zealanders.

We may well change the design of a cloth – and finally banish the Union Jack – but beyond that not a lot else is likely, or, more importantly, intended to change. It is a $26 million downpayment on letting the people have their say, but without threatening the core fabric of our comfortable society too much.

Sadly, it could have all been quite different, and not just another spluttered effort along the way. So too could the results of the Constitutional Arrangements Review Committee I chaired in 2004-05, but the Clark Government got cold feet when it came to getting anywhere near the feared “R” word. And so, despite their inclinations, the status quo was preferred, and the first opportunity for reform allowed to pass.

When the current government took office, the Constitutional Conversation was established, with a very high powered Eminent Persons Group under the distinguished leadership of Sir Tipene O’Regan, but again, the debate was cast in such a way to prevent any substantive debate of the “R” question. Despite the eminence of the committee and the willingness of people to engage and to be engaged, it rapidly became clear that the real purpose of the committee, at least insofar as the government was concerned, was to get the National and Maori Parties off their respective intransigent and diametrically opposed high horses on the future of the Maori seats. While it achieved that, it became our second lost opportunity in five years for a wider constitutional debate.

All of which brings me to the current flag exercise, which seems likely to fizzle out once the primary question has been resolved. It really is all quite clever politics. At one level, the various efforts of the last decade can be held to show at least that governments have a superficial willingness to talk about constitutional issues, so that can be construed as a positive. But, at another level, the debates have been constructed in such a way to ensure that the real issues are not addressed or really even discussed.

That may well work while it is perceived that the majority is comfortable with our retaining the Royal Family as the source of our Head of State. A little racy perhaps in giving people a say over the flag, but no real harm done even if people vote to change it, because we still have the Queen.

But, the times are a-changing. New Zealand’s increasingly multi-ethnic society feels less and less emotionally linked to Buckingham Palace as each year and scandal passes. The cry for our own Head of State will become irresistible, just as it was to my forbears all those years ago.           

   

  

 

 

 

 

23 October 2014

Earlier this week we marked the passing of the former Australian Prime Minister Gough Whitlam. The patrician, suavely elegant, physically imposing, polished orator, and silver haired Whitlam was very much a product of his time – the man credited with lifting Australia out of the torpor of the Menzies era of the 1950s and 1960s, and into the (then) modern era of the 1970s. In so doing, he shaped the face of modern Australia to the extent that today, nearly 40 years after his brief three years in office, Australia’s fundamentals are still very much the Whitlam legacy.

The contrast between the haughty grandeur of Mr Whitlam and the four contenders presently seeking the leadership of the New Zealand Labour Party in the now almost annual round of primary elections could not be more profound. However, it is a different time, and a different place, after all.

But there is an important lesson from the Whitlam ascendancy that the current gang of four should think about. Whitlam became leader of the Australian Labor Party at a time when the party had lost eight straight elections. It was dominated by its National Executive – the 12 faceless men as Whitlam famously called them – whose focus was preserving the legacy of the past, rather than facing the challenges and opportunities of the future. The problem as they (and the Caucus they selected and controlled) saw it was that while the ALP’s policies were fine and immutably principled, the Australian public seemed unwilling to accept in the comparative prosperity of the 1960s, the wisdom and virtue of returning to the more controlled society of the 1940s Labor heyday.

It had become a vicious circle. The more Labor lost, the more it turned inwards upon itself, and reaffirmed the need to return to first principles to regain power. And the more Menzies just kept winning.

Whitlam’s real success came early in his leadership of the party when he took on the entrenched interests directly, with a stinging attack on their failings that culminated in the immortal line “only the impotent are pure.”

A similar challenge faces the New Zealand Labour Party as it searches for its fifth leader in six years. A common refrain in the Labour Party is that the reason for their last two catastrophic defeats is that people do not understand their policies, and they need to be better communicated. On the contrary, people understand their policies all too well, and just do not like them. They may well meet all the needs of the interest groups that make up the modern Labour Party, but they clearly do not resonate with the near half million voters who have deserted Labour in recent years.

None of the current leadership contenders is a Gough Whitlam. But they can learn from him. “Only the impotent are pure” is a powerful starting point. The long term winner and possible next Labour Prime Minister will be the candidate bold enough to take on the party’s entrenched interests, and make them secondary to the interest of suburban, middle New Zealand.

Shane Jones was the last such candidate – and look what happened to him.  

14 October 2014

So, we are embarking on a rapid, four week review of our intelligence and security settings in the light of the rise of ISIL and associated groups. But did we not have a major review of the GCSB legislation last year, and was not one of the outcomes of that review a new requirement that from 30 June 2015 the GCSB and the SIS would be independently reviewed every 5 to 7 years to ensure that they remain relevant and fit for purpose?

The answer to each of those questions is yes, so what has changed so dramatically in the last 12 months to apparently override all of this? The rise of what Minister Finlayson described as the “international terrorist” as evidenced most dramatically by the ISIL is the obvious answer. Repugnant as ISIL’s and related factions’ actions have been, the term is essentially pejorative, and needs to be treated with some caution. After all, we used to talk of “freedom fighters” to cover people who joined a variety of “liberation” movements to fight for decolonisation in Africa and Asia, without attracting huge security attention. When New Zealanders were killed in such actions, in East Timor for example, we took clear stances to find out what had happened. And in an earlier generation, many idealistic, progressive young people, New Zealanders included, joined the International Brigade to fight fascism in the Spanish Civil War.

So what has changed? Is it the graphic display of the brutal atrocities being carried out by groups like ISIL? Or the cause they are perceived to represent in this post 9/11 world?

Whatever the reason, all governments (curiously most reporting always contains the adjective “western” governments, which may of itself be telling) are responding. That in turn is bringing renewed focus upon international intelligence sharing arrangements, in New Zealand’s case Five Eyes, and the extent to which national sovereignty is being influenced if not actually limited by the information being obtained and shared.

Now these are not necessarily reasons why we should be wary of the urgent review being undertaken, but they raise very serious questions about the timing and the apparent rush to complete it, compared to, say, the more deliberate way we are approaching the potential Ebola pandemic, arguably of far greater risk to humanity. (The Prime Minister has spoken of legislation being passed under Urgency by the end of the year.) Yet we are scheduled to have a fully independent review of our security services as soon as possible after 30 June 2015, and Minister Finlayson was reported at the weekend noting the importance of that process.

Until the case for urgency is made, we are all left to speculate. For example, has this got something to do with shoring up support for our UN Security Council seat bid, or placing New Zealand in a good international position ahead of next month’s G20 meeting? Or will the Prime Minister’s promised major speech in the next few weeks reveal a set of circumstances so compelling to make obvious the need to leap-frog next year’s planned reviews and introduce new measures now, which ironically may not survive those reviews?

Time will tell, but, in the meantime, a dose of healthy caution is warranted. Breathing steadily and deeply and focusing on the facts, not the emotive hyperbole, is the best way forward.