Des Ryan editor InDaily hits the spot.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Where would we be without journos

GOVERNMENTS love secrecy, that goes without saying.

They are secretive because the alternative, being open and transparent, means being held to account. Therefore they are secretive even when there is no need to be secretive.

Because we, the public, are apparently not to be trusted.

Premier Mike Rann and his people expect us to take their word at face value and to pay no great attention to whatever might be brewing behind the scenes.

Such is the modern political craft of spin doctoring, which is an extension of government obsession with secrecy to the exclusion of the public’s entitlement to know.

State Cabinet meets in secret and publishes no records of its considerations for 20, 30 or even 75 years in some circumstances. Embarrassing documents are “walked through’’ Cabinet to ensure they are exempt from Freedom of Information searches, though the documents are never actually discussed around the table.

Occasionally, though, we get a brief keyhole glimpse of how things really work behind the closed doors.

Details tend to come out little by little, and only when forced by some revelation. Questions are asked about the RAH and Adelaide Oval, for example, and the confidential material leaks out through the media.

The Sustainable Budget Commission drew up a so-called “slash and burn” secret list of savage State Budget cuts for Treasurer Kevin Foley.

The SBC report floated a long, controversial list of suggested cutbacks, among them to close country hospitals, police and fire stations, the closure of The Repatriation Hospital, reducing expenditure on the homelessness and charging disabled adults for government-supplied equipment.

We all had a stake in knowing what was being contemplated here. Yet it remained a state secret until someone leaked the details to the media.

Foley, who adopted very few of the SBC recommendations, called in investigators from the Attorney-General’s Department to hunt down the whistleblower, as if the person had acted dishonourably and against the public interest.

Another example: The Transport Department refused to publicly release information about the condition of SA’s 700 bridges, claiming al-Qaida terrorists might use the details to launch an attack.

First the World Trade Centre, next the Mitcham Station underpass.

Only when the claim was debunked by the State Ombudsman did the Transport Department relent and release the information. There was no immediate response by Osama bin Laden.

Here’s another: SA Water intends to run a new water pipeline through the suburbs – connected by five industrial-sized pumping stations in residential areas – yet refused to share the secret details with stressed householders unless they first signed a confidentiality agreement.

The clear inference was that anyone who disclosed the details would be sued by SA Water.

Why? No one could explain, not even Water Minister Paul Caica, who eventually told residents they could safely ignore the implied threat.

Generally speaking, public scrutiny has a life cycle of four stages:

Exposure – Hidden material is revealed by an official investigation, a whistleblower or through the media asking questions.

Spinning – A PR attempt is made to put a gloss on the damage and to limit the public outrage.

Transparency – An apology is offered and the hidden material is openly shared with the public.

Management – Steps are taken to ensure that other hidden material never becomes available, by declaring it publicly off-limits on the basis of privacy, national security or cabinet confidentiality.

“Commercial in-confidence” is also cited by governments for keeping information secret, as if this gives a cloak of legitimacy for any underhand deals.

In fact, whenever government money confers an advantage on an individual or a private company, we the taxpayers are entitled to know about it. Who is being looked after and why? We have a right to be kept informed.

The problem is, as soon as political parties get hold of power, it does not take long before they reward their supporters and exclude their detractors, a system of Mafia-like patronage.

Patronage is the heartbeat of politics. Everything has a price. Influence and loyalty can be bought and sold.

Cynicism inevitably spreads. Remain loyal and you will be looked after; the compliant will be rewarded to undermine those who are out of favour.

It’s a system under which businesses feel obliged to pay money to a lobbyist to arrange access and a cosy chat with the minister, who is in a position to enhance their commercial interests.

These are not social calls. The clients are there to ensure their own prosperity, not for the coffee and sweet biscuits.

If they don’t want to play the game, then try going elsewhere and negotiate a better deal.

True, there are public registers of political lobbyists and of campaign donations, as there are also FOI procedures and an Ombudsman. But these are of limited usefulness, to a greater or lesser extent, and do not readily deliver up what is really happening deep down.

Such processes might offer a reassuring, superficial sense of the openness of government, but just don’t expect too much openness.

The patronage system is deeply flawed, I believe, yet legal. The question arises: by what standards are we to judge those who operate by its flawed rules when their behaviour breaches no law but stinks nonetheless?

Also, we can hear what politicians say, but how are we to judge if they are being honest or lying if we do not know the back story? How do we know if a political donor is expecting to be rewarded later on for a contribution, nudge-wink?

And who is going to expose any of this?

Well, journalists. They like to see themselves as the vigilant truth seekers. It is no coincidence that the public exposure of wrongdoing mostly occurs through the media, not within the chambers of Parliament House.

Good journalists require a certain temperament, I think. They need to be driven to discover what the powerful are hiding and why, from the starting point that no government decision should be allowed to go uncontested.

Why, why, always why? It’s the only question that matters.

Journalists need to be dogged. Patient with a capital P in checking and cross-referencing the facts. Above all, journalism is the art of verification.

Nothing to hide? Of course there is, and it’s a journalist’s job to go fetch it out.

Every now and then, sufficient facts are dragged into the open by the media to suggest that government corruption has occurred, or greed, or plain incompetence. Blessed be the whistleblower.

As for what happens next, refer back to the Four Points above, the closed, spinning loop.

Most of us have an image in our minds of how a government ought to behave. First of all, no government should be allowed to place its own political self interest higher than the communal interest, especially when transparency and accountability go missing.

South Australia needs an independent crime commission to investigate government dishonesty in its various forms.

The Premier thinks otherwise.

Then let’s have a Truth Commission, an independent body to expose the lies of politicians. Except, of course, the whole edifice of government would come tumbling down.

-Des Ryan is the Editor of Indaily

http://www.indaily.com.au/

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