Weak endeavours: the meekness of Australia’s anti-corruption body

The warning signs of the Australian National Anti-Corruption Commission's ineffectiveness were there from the start. The enacting legislation that brought it into existence, for instance, limit public hearings to "exceptional circumstances", a reminder that the authorities are not exactly happy to let that large expanse of riffraff known as the public know how power functions in Australia.

Then came its first major decision on June 6. Pundits were on tenterhooks. What would this body, charged with enhancing the "integrity in the Commonwealth public sector by deterring, detecting and preventing corrupt conduct involving Commonwealth public officials" do about referrals concerning six public officials from the Royal Commission into the Robodebt Scheme? The spiritually crushing automated debt assessment and recovery program, had, after all, been responsible for using, in the words of Commission report, "patently unreliable methodology as income averaging, without other evidence, to determine entitlement to benefit". From its inception as a pilot program in 2015 till its conclusion in May 2020, a reign of bureaucratic terror was inflicted on vulnerable Australians.

The answer from Australia's newly minted body was one of stern indifference. While the NACC was aware of the impact of the scheme "on individuals and the public, the seniority of the officials involved, and the need to ensure that any corruption issue is fully investigated" the commission felt that "the conduct of the six public officials in connection with the Robodebt Scheme has already been fully explored by the Robodebt Royal Commission and extensively discussed in its final report."

In other words, there would be no consequences for the individuals in question, no public exposure of their misdeeds, no sense of satisfaction for victims of the scheme that their harms had been truly redressed. In refusing to act on the referrals, the NACC had, in the words of former NSW Supreme Court Judge Anthony Whealy KC, now chair for the Centre for Public Integrity, "betrayed a core obligation and failed to fulfil its primary duty."

An absurd spectacle ensued. The inspector of the NACC, Gail Furness, found herself being called upon rather early in her tenure to investigate the very entity that had been created to expose maladministration and corrupt conduct after receiving 900 complaints about the NACC's own alleged corrupt conduct. In the mess of not pursuing the Robodebt officials, it also transpired that Commissioner Paul Brereton had delegated, rather than recused himself, from the process given a conflict of interest. By merely delegating the role of reaching the final decision to a Deputy Commissioner, however, Brereton had not entirely precluded his part in the drama.

Two recent incidents confirm how the NACC is intended to (mal)function – at least in the eyes of Canberra's secrecy-drugged political establishment. Far from being effective, the body's role is intended as impotently symbolic, an annexure of the corruption consensus that rots at the capital's centre.

The first came in the defeated efforts of Senators David Pocock and Jacqui Lambie to introduce an amendment directing the NACC Commissioner to hold public hearings if "satisfied that it is in the public interest to do so." As Pocock explained to the Senate, the committee process into examining the NACC Act revealed "evidence from commissioners from state integrity commissions that … there should be a presumption towards having public hearings." The current legislation, as shaped by Labor and the Coalition, was designed "in a way that we have no real oversight of what is happening in the NACC." And that is exactly how that same unholy alliance hoped matters would remain, with both Labor and the Liberal-Nationals voting down the amendment.

In justifying that craven move, Labor Senator and Minister for Employment and Workplace relations Murray Watt held out feebly that the "appropriate balance" between holding public hearings, and considering whether they might "prejudice criminal prosecution, reputations, safety, privacy, wellbeing or confidentiality" had been struck. Any attentive student of secrecy in politics will be mindful that any balance between public interests and exceptional circumstances will always favour the pathway of least transparency. In Australia, public interest tests are almost always read down to favour opacity over openness.

In keeping with the disease of closed power, the second matter concerned revelations by the NACC about certain operational details regarding Operation Bannister. The investigative effort was established to investigate whether a Home Affairs employee's "familial links" to contracted service provider and Paladin founder Craig Thrupp, had instanced corruption.

Paladin Holdings has handsomely profited from the Australian taxpayer, raking in over half a billion dollars to manage the brutal Manus Island detention centre between 2017 and 2019. The senior executive in question, pseudonymised as Anne Brown, received $194,701.10 from Paladin for "management and consulting services" in 2017. The money was transferred to her home loan account to assist full repayment, though she denied undertaking any work for Paladin or assisting them with the tender to Home Affairs in securing the contract.

Browne's partner, retired Home Affairs executive pseudonymised as Carl Delaney, directly aided Paladin in securing the lucrative tender. He joined Paladin's board of directors in 2019 and was remunerated to the sum of $5,000 for his efforts.

Thrupp also purchased another apartment for Brown and Delaney in the same complex worth $920,000, along with accompanying furniture. Two months later, it was rented back to Paladin for $1,000 per week, though eventually sold in 2020, with Brown and Delaney pocketing the proceeds.