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Hager and Stephensons book Hit & Run alleged six civilians were killed during Operation Burnham, including three-year-old named Fatima
Hager and Stephensons book Hit & Run alleged six civilians were killed during Operation Burnham, including three-year-old named Fatima

PoliticsSeptember 3, 2019

For too long, NZ has looked the other way as civilians die in our wars

Hager and Stephensons book Hit & Run alleged six civilians were killed during Operation Burnham, including three-year-old named Fatima
Hager and Stephensons book Hit & Run alleged six civilians were killed during Operation Burnham, including three-year-old named Fatima

Some simple could bring radical impacts, write Peter McKenzie and Thomas Gregory authors of a new paper on civilian casualties in overseas conflict for the New Zealand Alternative

On 30 May 2006, Nabiha Jassim was shot and killed as her brother drove her through the streets of the Iraqi city of Samarra. Nabiha had gone into labour and her brother was rushing her to the hospital. But Samarra, like the rest of Iraq, was on edge. Soldiers at an American-led coalition checkpoint mistook their speed for a sign of hostility and opened fire.

Nabiha’s death took place in the midst of the ongoing conflict between Iraqi insurgents and American forces. The world’s attention was gripped by gruesome acts like the death of 165 people in the aftermath of a mosque bombing by al-Qaida, or the rape and murder of a young Iraqi girl and her family by American soldiers.

But these gruesome acts distracted from the true horror of the Iraq War: the steady accumulation of avoidable tragedies like that of Nabiha’s death. An average of one Iraqi civilian was killed or injured at coalition checkpoints each day in 2006, creating an unending atmosphere of tragedy and fear.

Eventually the American military started taking these incidents seriously. And when they did, they realised that they were able to make small adjustments with enormous impacts. In 2007, the Americans changed the layout of checkpoints so soldiers had longer to assess potential threats and equipped soldiers with non-lethal weapons that could be used to warn civilians. As a result, the number of civilians killed or injured at coalition checkpoints reduced from an average of one per day to an average one per week.

The reason it took so long for these changes to be introduced is tragically simple: nobody was paying much attention, so nothing was done. The number of victims in each case were relatively small and so they were easy to overlook. Only by taking a step back and looking at the wider picture could the gruesome reality be observed.

The New Zealand Defence Force has spent the last nine years responding to allegations of complicity in the killing of civilians. First raised in 2011 and 2014, the allegations took on public prominence in 2017 when Nicky Hager and Jon Stephenson published Hit and Run, which detailed how 15 Afghan civilians were allegedly wounded and six killed in a raid (codenamed Operation Burnham) by SAS troops on two Afghan villages.

The NZDF initially denied everything. Then it conceded that a weapons malfunction might have killed some civilians. Then it acknowledged that an SAS sniper killed an individual who they believed to be a threat; documents appear to show the individual was unarmed. An inquiry is still trying to conclusively determine what happened.

When the inquiry’s findings come, the events of Operation Burnham will be a decade old. For most of that time, the NZDF acted like nothing had happened. The reality was covered up, or the NZDF did not properly scrutinise their own operations, or both. Regardless, the problem is the same: nobody was paying much attention, so nothing was done.

People often forget about New Zealand’s involvement in Afghanistan. It is important to remember that our troops did not just rebuild and monitor Bamyan Province. Between 2001 and 2005, and then again from 2009 to 2012, the SAS took part in the invasion and counter-insurgency. They took part in direct, ongoing and regular conflict.

Inevitably during conflict, people get hurt and things get broken. It is for that reason that military intervention of the sort which New Zealand undertook should always be a last resort, which it often has not been. Nevertheless, having intervened, we took on a responsibility to prevent civilian harm. Yet according to information recovered under the Official Information Act, between late 2009 and early 2011 there were 14 incidents of property damage in relation to SAS activity, requiring a total of $3,000 in condolence payments.

Nobody knew about these condolence payments outside of the NZDF. It probably wasn’t very well known within the NZDF. We have no idea what prompted the payments, nor what the exact nature or impact of the damage was. All we know is that the 14 incidents were relatively evenly spaced over the deployment, and became gradually more severe. The first few incidents required around $50 to $200 in condolence payments. The second to last incident required a payment of $1,700. And this is the tip of the iceberg; we don’t know about the claims of damage and harm which victims didn’t make, or the claims which went to the wrong authority or country because the victims didn’t know it was New Zealand’s special forces which caused the damage.

Why do we know so little? Almost certainly because nobody was paying much attention, so nothing was tracked or done.

The inquiry into Operation Burnham has drawn public attention to the NZDF and the issue of civilian deaths. That’s brilliant. But we cannot let the inquiry be a flash in the pan. Real change comes from ongoing and consistent scrutiny, something which New Zealand’s status quo of a struggling media and weak internal NZDF processes won’t provide.

That’s why New Zealand Alternative, an organisation dedicated to promoting an independent, values-driven foreign policy for Aotearoa, is recommending that we change the status quo.

In our recent policy brief on institutional responses to the killing of civilians, New Zealand Alternative makes a few simple and impactful recommendations. Most crucially, New Zealand Alternative recommends that the NZDF introduce a Civilian Harm Prevention Team. Currently, accountability for civilian deaths or harm requires the endless grind of investigative journalists. That’s not sustainable or consistent. We need a dedicated group focused on tracking allegations of civilian harm, coordinating verification of those allegations and providing NZDF-wide guidance on civilian harm avoidance and mitigation. A dedicated group focused on the killing of civilians would have raised the red flag over Operation Burnham. A dedicated group would have seen the steadily worsening pattern of civilian damage inflicted by the SAS between 2009 and 2011. A dedicated group could have responded to complaints, acknowledged the harm and ensured that real change took place straight away.

This is not a new idea. Having recognised the steady accumulation of preventable deaths like that of Nabiha Jassim, and in the aftermath of three dramatic incidents resulting in significant civilian deaths, the NATO International Security Assistance Force in Afghanistan introduced a team to track the killing of civilians – an approach now considered international best practice.

Neither is it a complex idea. New Zealand Alternative is just calling for robust and consistent scrutiny of our institutions. When we choose to intervene, we choose to take on extensive moral responsibilities for the potential victims. Where it takes place, the stark injustice of innocent civilians being killed must be exposed. Because, most simply, when people pay attention, a whole lot can get done.

Read the full briefing paper, Civilian Casualties and the New Zealand Defence Force, at NZAlternative.org.

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PoliticsAugust 29, 2019

So, you want to hack New Zealand’s democracy?

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A mystery donation to National has people asking how secure our electoral system is from corrupt foreign actors. Law expert Andrew Geddis explains what’s at stake.

Following some damn fine newspapering by Matt Nippert, a $150,000 donation given in 2017 to National from the Chinese billionaire owned “Inner Mongolia Rider Horse Industry (NZ) Ltd” is back in the news. While not necessarily raising any questions of illegality or impropriety, the sheer amount involved and the fact that it came from an entity controlled by an overseas national has focused attention on how our law controls (and doesn’t control) the use of money in our electoral system.

So, given this recent interest, let’s try a little thought experiment. Let’s pretend you’re a malign actor with money to spare who wants to use it to get something from New Zealand’s democracy.

It might be some policy win in an area you’re interested in. It might be establishing general influence over those who wield public power. It might simply be messing with the system in order to destabilise it. All of these are goals that we’ve recently seen pursued in many places around the world.

How, then, could you do so within New Zealand’s existing legal framework? That is, how could it be achieved either without breaching the law, or by breaching it in ways that probably won’t ever get noticed or punished?

1: Buy yourself a party or politician

We all know New Zealand is one of the least corrupt nations around. After all, Transparency International keeps on telling us this, and we keep on proudly touting it.

But let’s say there’s someone out there who didn’t get the memo and decides to try and buy themselves a NZ politician or party. What, apart from our political actors’ sense of ethics, stands in their way?

The first point to note is that if you are a NZ citizen, resident, company or association, there’s literally no limit on how much you can donate to either a party or an individual candidate. If you want to give it, and they’re happy to take it, then that’s all copacetic.

Of course, if you donate more than $15,000 to a political party, or $1500 to an individual candidate, then your name eventually will have to be disclosed to the public via the Electoral Commission. And if you’re trying to buy politicians, you probably won’t want to do it quite so openly.

In which case, it’s a good thing that you can give a party $15,000, and each of its individual candidates $1500, and still never have your name appear in public. That’s up to $121,500 to a party running candidates in all 71 electorates.

And let’s say you usefully happen to have friends and family with money who coincidentally share your political goals. Each of them also can use “their” money – and, really, will anyone ever find out if it actually is their money? – to donate.

A donation of $15,000 here, $15,000 there … pretty soon that starts to add up to some real cash, the source of which will (again) never have to be exposed to public view. So even if you’ve crossed some lines in how the donations have been funded, how will anyone outside the party ever know to ask?

An Action Station campaign flyer

However, what if you live outside of the country and are not a NZ citizen or voter? Can your money still help to fund the activities of some party or candidate?

Not directly it can’t – or, at least, not all that much of it. Such “overseas persons” can only give $1500 at most to a candidate, or $1500 a year to a party.

Unless, that is, they happen to own a company that is registered in New Zealand. In which case, it’s perfectly legal to direct that company to give as much of “its” money to a party or candidate as “it” wants to. Such is the magic of a legal fiction in action.

Or, it may be that the overseas person has friends, relatives or loyal subjects living in New Zealand who are prepared to pass on money under their name. While that would be illegal, it’s also hard to detect for the reasons given above.

Which may help to explain why the head of the SIS, Rebecca Kitteridge, recently told parliament’s Justice Committee that “more stringent disclosure requirements” would assist that organisation’s investigative work by improving its ability to trace donations. One is tempted to conclude that there’s something already going on that the SIS thinks needs looking at a little bit more closely.

2: Spend your money on your own advertising

Even if done entirely legally, giving money directly to a party or candidate carries an obvious risk. The pesky news media might not always be that quick out of the blocks – it took over two years to really question whether an overseas owned company should be giving six figure amounts to a political party – but it sometimes gets there. And when it does so, embarrassing inquiries will start being made.

So, why not avoid the risk of exposure, cut out the middle man, and try to get the outcome you want by spending your own money on advertising? After all, that’s what politicians and parties mostly will use your money for anyway, so why not just do it for yourself?

Outside of the three-month period before an election, there’s virtually no restrictions on such spending by anyone. You can spend as much as you want on any sort of advertising in any medium.

The only legal controls are that you can’t directly tell people to vote for a candidate or for a party unless they agree in writing that you can do so. But that doesn’t stop you dissing their political enemies, or talking up issues in a way that favours them.

Further, if you do pay for an “election advertisement” (one that basically tries to influence how people will vote, even if it doesn’t mention any party or candidate), then you have to put your name and address on it in a “promoter’s statement”. That’s meant to let people see who is behind the ad and so assess it accordingly.

However, if you were to set up (say) “New Zealanders for a Brighter Tomorrow” to conduct the advertising, and have a lawyer front this entity for you, then all you’d need to do is put the group’s name and the lawyer’s address on your ad. And if anyone asks the lawyer who is behind it, client confidentiality precludes an answer.

Once we get to three months before an election, things tighten up a bit. From that point until polling day, anyone wanting to spend more than $13,200 on election advertising in any medium has to register with the Electoral Commission. And an overseas person can’t register in this way (but any NZ company they may own still can).

Registering requires the disclosure of a bunch more information about who is behind a group, as well as limiting overall advertising spending to $330,000. That’s still a shit load of cash, but at least it’s something, right?

Facebook user Mark Zuckerberg delivers the opening keynote address at the f8 Developer Conference April 21, 2010 in San Francisco, California. Photo by Justin Sullivan/Getty Images

Except, all of this regulation relies on someone being able to monitor just who is out there running election ads. And monitoring such ads requires us knowing that they even exist in the first place.

Back in the mass media days, that was at least possible. Everyone looked at the same papers and TV channels for their news. And even if pamphlets got stuck into lots of individual letterboxes, this was public enough that people could notice, talk about it and join the dots.

But today? Where advertising largely has moved on-line and can be micro-targeted at individuals on their social media sites? How will an urban-dwelling creative professional who likes cycling ever know what political ads a rural-dwelling farmer who owns a ute is seeing on her Facebook feed? And once those political ads have run their course and been replaced with the next set of messages, how will we ever know if the same people are behind those messages?

Let’s be honest here – there’s no way that our Electoral Commission or any other government agency can monitor this. And even if someone were complain to them that the rules around promoters’ statements or spending caps look like they’re being broken, the Commission (or the police) are going to winkle out information from the likes of Facebook, Twitter or Google to even start to investigate.

Which raises the scary fact that our laws controlling the use of money in our democracy now rely on these social media behemoths voluntarily agreeing to monitor just who is running ads about New Zealand politics and share that data.  Because if they don’t, then our laws will only have as much practical force as those running the ads want to give them.

And if you were a malign actor with money to spare who wants to use it to get something from New Zealand’s democracy, that might not really be much force at all.