NIcky Hager at the launch of Dirty Politics in 2014
NIcky Hager at the launch of Dirty Politics in 2014

PoliticsAugust 16, 2017

Sunlight did what sunlight does: Nicky Hager on Dirty Politics, three years on

NIcky Hager at the launch of Dirty Politics in 2014
NIcky Hager at the launch of Dirty Politics in 2014

Dirty Politics landed like a bombshell in the NZ election campaign of 2014. It may not have affected that outcome, but that was never the ambition. It has, however, made a big impact on our politics, argues Nicky Hager

Three long years ago, during the last election campaign, the book Dirty Politics revealed a political dirty tricks campaign being run out of John Key’s Beehive office. It was an ugly operation, jarringly contradicting the friendly, BBQ-guy image cultivated by Key. If you don’t know the details, it is still well worth reading the whole grubby story.

Quite a lot of people wondered at the time whether the book might change the outcome of the election. It didn’t and some concluded that the book had had no effect. But my aims were different. The book has had an effect far beyond what I could reasonably have hoped for.

Here is my assessment of what has changed as a result and what hasn’t.

Exposing and considerably closing down the dirty tricks campaign

Before the book, the dirty politics brigade was having a huge influence over New Zealand politics. Personal attacks were cooked up in the prime minister’s office and elsewhere, drafted into nasty, drip-fed blog posts and sent out into the world through two National Party-aligned blogs: Whale Oil and Kiwiblog. An embarrassing number of journalists reprinted these attacks and came to use the bloggers, Cameron Slater and David Farrar, as regular sources for tip offs and news. The journalists were aware that the bloggers had close links to John Key and his government, and this further enhanced their status and influence.

The attack machine had success after success. In the 2011 election, a series of manufactured scandals left Labour and its leader Phil Goff looking incompetent and untrustworthy. In 2013 Auckland mayor Len Brown’s political career was demolished by the release of extremely personal details of a foolish romantic affair. The 2014 election was then dominated by a series of smears and apparent scandals targeting each of National’s political opponents. All of this would turn out to be traceable back to the bloggers and National Party figures. In New Zealand’s small political system, the covert dirty tricks were overwhelming normal politics.

The most important effect of the book is that this dirty tricks campaign was exposed and largely stopped. The dirty tricks coordinator in John Key’s office, Jason Ede, was hastily removed from his job and has never been seen again. There is hardly a single journalist left who would take stories off the dirty politics bloggers. Cameron Slater and the Whale Oil blog still exist, but they have shrunk back to the margins of politics. Sunlight did what sunlight does. Just three years later, the 2017 election seems relatively free of orchestrated attacks and undeclared machinations. (The politicians are still quite capable of creating their own problems and random events, but that is what makes politics endlessly interesting.)

Revealing the attack machine to its other countless victims

Numerous people have been attacked over the years by the Whale Oil or Kiwiblog sites: politicians, journalists, academics, a public servant handing out political leaflets in his lunch hour, almost anyone doing something effective on the left side of politics. Some attacks were to help the National Party; some were commercial operations attacking private people on behalf of undeclared paying clients. The important thing that has changed is that now these people know what was going on. It is a shocking experience to find yourself virulently attacked online, with some scurrilous criticism appearing at the top of the search results when someone looks up your name. Now, at least, these people know that it is the dirty politics brigade, that there are many people in the same position and that the attacks say much more about the attackers than they do about themselves.

By understanding the game, people have been able to fight back. On page 95 of the book Dirty Politics, for instance, there is mention of an attack job done for money by Cameron Slater and his PR industry collaborator Carrick Graham against a school principal who was in a matrimonial dispute. Amid the riches of filth, the story only got two paragraphs. But it didn’t end there. The person who paid Slater and Graham for the attacks was a lawyer and she has since been taken to a legal tribunal for improper behaviour. Just this month the tribunal decision was published, revealing the whole operation. It makes interesting reading.

Nicky Hager at the Dirty Politics book launch, Unity Books, Wellington

Revealing corporate smears for cash operations

The book revealed that one of Slater and Graham’s most lucrative freelance attack campaigns targeted public health professionals – on behalf, apparently, of unlovely corporate clients such as the tobacco industry. The public health professionals were trying to save people’s lives from tobacco, alcohol and obesity harms. The attacks seem to have been an effort to protect profits from these meddlers. Even after these activities were exposed in the book, Graham and Slater appeared to continue the attacks. Eventually some of the health professionals took action. In June last year they launched defamation action against Slater and Graham. The years of acting with impunity have hopefully come to an end.

Diminishing the influence of the dirty tricks operatives

On this point, the results are more mixed. Slater and the Whale Oil blog, the heart of the dirty politics system, are certainly diminished. It now seems hard to believe that not long ago they were so influential. But some others have continued to be a problem. Slater’s political attack collaborator, Simon Lusk, was seen in last year’s local government elections when he assisted with attack tactics for some mayoral candidates. His campaigns faced a backlash in some towns when people realised that a dirty politics practitioner was involved in the election campaign.

Slater’s fellow attack blogger, David Farrar, is still used as a commentator by some news media, including being introduced just as a “blogger”. He is still also chief pollster for the National Party, helping study public opinion and guide political management week by week. It is hard to imagine a more partisan commentator and at the very least his job should be declared to listeners.

The final prominent dirty politics figure was Lusk and Slater’s apprentice, Jordan Williams. He is seen in the book Dirty Politics as their enthusiastic helper, ready to help dig dirt on the latest target. For a while he appeared to have come out of the controversy mostly unscathed. He (assisted by Farrar) has attracted large amounts of news media publicity for the Taxpayer’s Union, which seems to me to largely serve as a vehicle for rightwing attack politics. (I think media organisations are being foolish giving prominence to this group, with its undeclared funding sources, as if it were a democratic community group.)

Williams even won a defamation case against former Conservative Party leader Colin Craig, after Craig accused Williams of being involved in dirty politics against him. Record defamation damages were awarded to Williams. But then in April this year the presiding judge, Justice Katz, took the unusual step of setting aside the verdict, saying it would be a miscarriage of justice. She said Craig’s actions “must be viewed in the broader context that his own character and reputation were under sustained attack from Mr Williams”. The judge’s carefully argued judgement is a pleasure to read (there are extracts here). Jordan Williams may have initially won the court case, but his character is becoming more widely known.

Colin Craig’s pamphlet prompted Jordan Williams’ lawsuit.

Showing a side of John Key that did not fit his public image

Ever since Key became a National Party politician, I have watched with amazement that he could project an artificial persona with such ease. His early press releases and speeches repeatedly referred to his “state house” upbringing, as he manufactured a rags-to-riches reputation. He set aside his ruthless corporate past and cultivated a guy-next-door friendly goof image – when really he was as ruthless and self-serving as ever. I couldn’t understand why many commentators did not seem to notice.

And so, for me, an important part of the Dirty Politics revelations was that they showed the public another side of Key, one that was usually only seen in private. There he was buddies with Cameron Slater, symbol of the ugly and extreme corner of New Zealand politics. Key was the chief beneficiary of years of unscrupulous political attacks, riding high in the polls as his opponents were tripped up and smeared. The heart of the dirty tricks campaign was his ninth floor Beehive offices, where his staff plotted their attack politics and collaborated with Slater. This is a defining feature of Key as a politician.

Nonetheless, three years ago, when the book Dirty Politics came out, Key determinedly dodged or denied everything. Week after week he refused to answer questions put to him by journalists. Surprisingly, this approach in part worked. This is one of the things that wasn’t changed by the book: Key has continued to be defined more by his success in the polls than by what he achieved and the tactics he was willing to use to help stay ahead in the polls. It is going to take a while before this period of our history is properly understood. This should come with time.

But overall, as the list above shows, plenty has changed already. The trouble with using dirty tactics is the risk of being found out and the tactics blowing up in your face. Bit by bit, the triumphant manipulators of the 2011 and 2014 elections have been getting their comeuppance; and other people have hopefully been deciding that there are better ways to do politics than following them down that dismal road.


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youth offending national

PoliticsAugust 16, 2017

After a year of data-driven social reform, National heads to boot camp

youth offending national

Boot camps, parental fines… how on earth do these policies fit the social policy framework of the National government in 2017? Simon Wilson takes a look at what the prime minister and his cabinet colleagues have been saying this year.

On 14 May, prime minister Bill English told a conference of the National Party faithful gathered in Mt Wellington, “If you spend money and you don’t know what difference it’s going to make, then it’s a waste.”

On 26 May, the morning after the budget, finance minister Steven Joyce had a similar message for a breakfast meeting of business leaders at the Heritage Hotel. He said, “The test of how much you care is not the money you spend but how much you change things.”

In an interview in Auckland on 29 June, social investment and justice minister Amy Adams told me she was proud of the way government spending was “data driven”. She said, “We want to know we are spending money on the programmes with the greatest likelihood of success.” That’s why they tell officials that spending programmes should be capable of producing useful performance metrics.

And it’s six years now since Bill English, then finance minister, made what could be described as a foundational statement of his approach to social spending. “Prisons,” he told a Families Commission hui, “are a moral and fiscal failure.” It costs $100,000 to keep a prisoner in prison for a year, and very little of that money helps with rehabilitation or lowering the crime rate.

On Sunday, Bill English and Amy Adams announced the return of boot camps.

Bill English. Portrait by Adrian Malloch, March 2017

The government’s approach to social spending is underpinned by some pretty clear principles. They want to target the people most in need of help (this is at the heart of the social investment philosophy). They want new ideas, because they believe same old same old is part of the problem.

They insist on evidence-based research to back those new ideas. That’s a problem for any genuinely new idea, of course, but still. I’ve talked to advisers who have worked in the orbit of Bill English on housing, health, education and other welfare areas and all are remarkably consistent in what they say: he demands robust evidence of a programme’s value before he will support it or agree to fund it.

Following from this, the government also wants to measure outcomes. Keeping the value of the spending under review keeps them focused on what works, allowing them to refine and develop as they go.

There’s a focus on early intervention: the concept of spending money now to save more of it later is well accepted. And there’s a focus on a comprehensive approach: the phrase “wraparound care” gets used a lot.

So, boot camps? It’s easy to see they don’t fit most of these principles. They’re a very old concept, based on an idea that might be widely believed but has very little evidential merit: namely, that a stiff bit of discipline will sort out those delinquent kids. Especially the boys.

Paula Bennett introduced boot camps in 2009 but quietly closed them again. They failed. If you doubt that, think of it this way: if they’d succeeded we would certainly have them still with us today. There’s more about all that here.

But the government has characterised its new boot camp proposal as something different. It’s a “Junior Training Academy”, and although it’s to be run by the army in Waiouru, it will, says justice minister Amy Adams, “address problems like addiction or a lack of literacy and numeracy skills”.

Also, the academy won’t be an option for every delinquent more inclined to shoplift than go to school. It’s intended for “Young Serious Offenders” (YSOs), the most dangerous and persistent repeat offenders, of whom the government says there are about 150 in the whole country. Each course will be for a full year and in each year’s cohort there will be about 50 YSOs.

On RNZ’s Morning Report on Monday Bill English had two things to say about the academy. One was that it will be different from previous efforts because of those wraparound educational and health services. Of course, that’s what they also said in 2009, when counselling and an educational focus were stressed. Boot camps have never been just parade marches and PFT runs.

English didn’t elaborate on how the army in Waiouru will be able to do what other boot camps haven’t. If he’d had some evidence for it he would surely have produced it.

The other thing the prime minister kept saying was, “We’ve got to try something.”

Having to say that really must have hurt. Just writing a cheque and hoping for the best is the very thing Bill English has spent his whole career in cabinet trying to stamp out.

The Junior Training Academy isn’t early intervention, a programme for at-risk children in the critical first three years of life. It’s a last-ditch attempt to keep our most serious young offenders out of prison, where they run a high risk of becoming hardened adult criminals.

And as English was implying in his defence of the policy, they have to try, don’t they?

Yes they do. And who knows, maybe taking the worst young offenders out of harm’s way, putting them in a structured but not prison environment, accepting that many of their needs are related to mental health and addiction, surrounding them with health, vocational and other services, all targeted to their individual needs, and engaging the support of whanau, iwi and others in their own communities… maybe it could work? But is that what the government’s proposing? It doesn’t seem so.

The solutions are not beyond comprehension. But they’re a bit more complex than army discipline might allow.

JUSTICE MINISTER AMY ADAMS. PHOTO / GETTY

The government announced another new “law and order” policy (their phrase) on the weekend: instant fines for parents whose children are found on the streets, very late at night, without supervision. Like boot camps, this policy reinforces an idea that’s widely held but not supported by any evidence that it does any good: that parents should be made to pay for their children’s delinquency.

What the policy doesn’t address is why a child aged under 14 might out at 3am. It seems reasonable to assume that some of them – perhaps most of them – fear being at home at night because of what they might witness there and/or what might happen to them there.

In that June interview, Amy Adams said: “Family violence is the touchstone for everything else.” She talked about how important it is to remember that children caught up in domestic violence are victims.

The touchstone for everything else. She was saying that if you track back into the lives of the people who stand in the dock and end up in prison, there’s a good chance you’ll find a family life wrecked by violence. She was saying that the most important thing to remember about delinquent, cast off and runaway children and their families is that they need support. Not punishment, but help. (There’s more on family violence here.) She gets it.

She also said a lot of work was going into learning “which interventions work for which cohort” and that there was “quite poor information on the worth of some interventions”. She suggested that “what works for a young Māori gang prospect, say, might be quite different to what works for an Indian immigrant”.

She didn’t say, and I didn’t think to ask, whether fining the parents would work for either group.

Prime Minister Bill English and deputy Paula Bennett (Photo by Hagen Hopkins/Getty Images)

Paula Bennett, deputy prime minister and minister of police, led a session on crime at that National Party conference in May. She said, “Our whole focus is on reoffending and a major part is on prevention at the early end. And the key to that is to turn around poverty and dysfunction.”

Not what you might expect. But it fitted well with what English, Adams and others had been saying about the government’s aims with its social policy.

And yet there was another theme in play at that conference, and Bennett promoted it. The crime session was dominated by the recent spate of violent burglaries in Auckland shops: dairies, convenience stores, petrol stations and bottle shops. The Indian community, many of whose members own those shops, was angry and afraid, and about a dozen of them were at the conference to demand action.

Bennett blamed gangs, who “try to make themselves look like respectable citizens but also peddle their drugs through Henderson High School.” She said “I personally think sentences are too light” and “getting the government to pay for rehabilitation programmes for gang members, excuse me, well that’s a façade”.

Someone asked, why don’t you get rid of the gangs?

Bennett said, “I personally feel quite strongly about them being on benefits and about them sitting in state houses.” There was a murmur of agreement.

Do you help people join society or cast them out? National has spent considerable time and effort working out how to do the former, but it has members and supporters far more inclined to the latter. And right now, a few weeks out from the election, the boot camp and parental fine policies are designed for them.

Over lunch, one of Indian community leaders told me he had been a policeman in India. He said, “We would have cleaned this shit up quickly.”

In all of this, there’s a gap between desire and reality. And there’s more. At his post-budget breakfast meeting on 26 May, hosted by the financial consultancy firm Grant Thornton in the grand old tearooms of the Heritage Hotel, finance minister Steven Joyce spoke candidly about mental health.

His budget had allocated a new $224 million spending package to be spread over four years, but there was no detail. Over breakfast, Joyce explained why. “We asked for new initiatives,” he said. “And all the agencies stayed in their silos and re-proposed what they were already doing on their own.” So almost nothing got approved.

Several things to learn from that. One, the government does not like it when government agencies fail to cooperate, or “stay in their silos”. Amy Adams told me the same thing a month later: silo thinking, she said, was a big problem in the public service. It happens “because they’re risk averse” and because when you break down the silo walls and start working together, you could end up being blamed for someone else’s mistakes. She put it like this: “They cling to ‘structural accountability’.”

This is tragic. It explains why officials in one department can propose boot camps while those in another want to talk about mental health. It also explains why wraparound care and training in a structured environment is not provided by a group of government agencies working together, but gets turned into a boot camp and dumped on the army.

Joyce also made it clear the government will not support failed and stale programmes. And, in case you missed it, they are really serious about evidence-based policies to reform the welfare state. If only they could persuade the officials to join in.

Further, although the minister of health, Jonathan Coleman, has been in his job for the entirety of this government’s third term and has the high ranking of 7th in the cabinet, the health ministry seems to be dysfunctional. It’s election year and mental health has been one of the hottest issues: not to have had acceptable policies ready for the budget suggests incompetence by both the ministry and the minister himself.

After that fiasco, Coleman was called into a small room, where Steven Joyce grabbed his nicely groomed hair and banged his head on the table many times while Bill English and Amy Adams stood by watching coldly. Or so one imagines.

Now, three months later, Coleman and Adams have jointly announced a “$100 million fund” to be “invested in a package of 17 new initiatives aimed at helping New Zealanders suffering from mental health issues, as well as focusing on improving services and earlier intervention”.

The list of 17 initiatives is very general. The money itself is merely a re-announcement of the $224 million already included in the budget. Coleman and his ministry still don’t know exactly what they’re doing.

It was Adams who said, “mental health is a social investment priority for this government. It’s one of our most challenging social issues and it affects a large number of New Zealanders with complex needs.” Including, in all likelihood, most of the kids destined for that boot camp.

English is proud of his government’s achievements in social policy. As one example, he said recently that there has been “a dramatic increase in the number of students gaining NCEA level 2. Thousands of kids who we used to think couldn’t do it, are now doing it.”

NCEA level 2 is important because it’s a rough guide to functional literacy. In our prisons, according to Mike Williams from the Howard League for Penal Reform, 63 percent of inmates do not have NCEA level 1 “and are therefore functionally illiterate”. Mark that: there’s very probably a direct link between illiteracy and crime.

At that National Party conference in May, education minister Nikki Kaye said, “There is a reason Louise Upston is both minister of corrections and associate minister of education. Because we do understand that there’s a link.”

She was talking about exactly the same thing. And like English, Kaye is proud of her party’s achievements in social policy: “Our party is to the forefront of innovation in education, compared to the parties of the left which are freighted with cynicism.”

Minister of defence Mark Mitchell is also proud. He told that conference youth crime was “down 32% over the last seven or eight years”. Just this week, the minister for social development, Anne Tolley, quoted that figure as 31%. It’s clearly not a crisis.

Amy Adams is proud too. In 2008, she told me, a mere 245 prisoners went through any kind of programme for alcohol and other drugs. Now, the number is 6900.

“The ideal,” she said, “is that everyone gets what they need. That, we know, is money well spent.”

Money well spent. It’s not what it costs but how effective the outcome. Again, Steven Joyce: “The test of how much you care is not the money you spend but how much you change things.”

A judge told me not so long ago that kids become delinquents and then criminals for a range of reasons. It’s common that they can’t read and the underlying problems that cause this are often deafness, ADHD, Asperger’s. On the whole, she said, these are illnesses and conditions and they are diagnosable, treatable, manageable. So why don’t we diagnose and treat?

Most members of the cabinet know we should do this. Most of them are proud of their insistence on evidence-based research and measurable policies, the progress they’ve made. But there is also an instinct to punish and a belief that populist fear trumps facts.

“Freighted with cynicism”, as Nikki Kaye said of her political opponents. But it’s hard to think of any social spending policies more deserving of the term than boot camps and parental fines.

simon@thespinoff.co.nz; @simonbwilson


This content is entirely funded by Simplicity, New Zealand’s only nonprofit fund manager, dedicated to making Kiwis wealthier in retirement. Its fees are the lowest on the market and it is 100% online, ethically invested, and fully transparent. Simplicity also donates 15% of management revenue to charity. So far, Simplicity is saving its 7,500 members $2 million annually. Switching takes two minutes.

The views and opinions expressed above do not reflect those of Simplicity and should not be construed as an endorsement. 

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