New Zealand’s corruption illusion: A Police scandal exposes the myth
- Grant McLachlan
- 5 days ago
- 4 min read
Updated: 3 days ago
This week's damning IPCA report on the McSkimming scandal exposes New Zealand's corruption paradox: ranked third globally for clean governance, yet complaints go un-investigated by compromised oversight bodies. Without a truly independent anti-corruption commission with powers like Australia's ICAC, New Zealand's squeaky-clean reputation remains an illusion sustained by institutional complicity, political cronies embedded in civil service, and media silence born from revolving-door dependencies.
This week, a damning report exposed what many New Zealanders have long suspected: their country’s squeaky-clean reputation masks serious accountability failures. The Independent Police Conduct Authority (IPCA) revealed that senior police officers, including former Commissioner Andrew Coster, systematically mishandled sexual assault allegations against Deputy Commissioner Jevon McSkimming—who has since pleaded guilty to possessing child sexual exploitation material.
The scandal’s tentacles reach further than individual misconduct. Police Minister Mark Mitchell claims his staff were instructed not to show him 36 emails containing the allegations between December 2023 and November 2024. Yet Mitchell had already pushed for Richard Chambers to replace Coster as Police Commissioner—despite Chambers insisting he knew nothing of the McSkimming matter until days before his appointment. This timeline raises uncomfortable questions about what Mitchell knew and when.
Predictably, criticism has focused on officers promoted under the previous Labour Government. But this partisan framing obscures a deeper rot: New Zealand lacks truly independent oversight mechanisms to investigate corruption across the political spectrum.
Consider the IPCA itself. Though styled as “independent,” the authority relies on Police resources to investigate and prosecute cases. Its investigations operate exempt from the Official Information Act, shielding them from public scrutiny. When the very organization you’re investigating provides your investigative tools, independence becomes theatre rather than reality.
The Public Service Commission’s silence on complaints against Chambers—including alleged abuse of Police resources and unprofessional conduct—speaks volumes. These institutions excel at investigating yesterday’s problems while remaining conspicuously mute about today’s.
Then there’s the Serious Fraud Office (SFO), hamstrung by budget constraints and accusations of political bias. In the Auckland Transport corruption case, where officials accepted over $1 million in bribes, the SFO made a chilling admission: the corruption was so extensive they had to limit prosecutions, concerned about “how much of the court’s time to take up.” Translation: we found so much wrongdoing that prosecuting it all would be inconvenient.
This calculated inaction exemplifies New Zealand’s approach to corruption: acknowledge it exists, but never in quantities that might embarrass the system itself.
The problem runs deeper than resource constraints. New Zealand has cultivated a toxic symbiosis between politics, bureaucracy, and media. Labour and National Party operatives embed themselves in Police and civil service positions, leaking information and abusing resources for political gain. It’s an open secret, yet prosecutions remain rare.
The media, meanwhile, maintains a studied silence on these transparency failures. Journalists and their colleagues depend on leaked information from these same compromised sources. The revolving door spins constantly: broadcasters and journalists become MPs and ministers, then transition to lobbying firms or return to media. Former TVNZ journalist Kris Faafoi served as Minister of Justice and Broadcasting before launching a lobbying firm. Other journalists-turned-MPs include Catherine Wedd, Maggie Barry, Oriini Kaipara, Willie Jackson, Peeni Henare, Ingrid Leary, and Jenny Marcroft. PR professionals like Cameron Brewer and Anna Lorck have made similar transitions. Over the past two decades, this exodus from journalism to politics and back has normalized conflicts of interest that would be scandalous in countries with functioning oversight. Investigating systemic corruption would mean biting the hand that feeds them exclusive stories and future employment.
Against this backdrop, the Government’s response to the McSkimming scandal borders on farce. In July, Mitchell and Public Service Minister Judith Collins announced an “anti-corruption taskforce” overseen by the Police Commissioner and the Serious Fraud Office—the very institutions implicated in failing to prevent or properly investigate corruption.
The irony is palpable. Both Mitchell and Collins featured prominently in Nicky Hager’s 2014 exposé “Dirty Politics,” which revealed how they used blogger Cameron Slater and other political operatives to conduct smear campaigns. Mitchell commissioned Slater to attack rival National Party candidates so he could win the Rodney seat. Collins, as Justice Minister responsible for the SFO, provided Slater with information about SFO head Adam Feeley, then joked when Slater received leaked police evidence. She fed Slater details of a public servant she believed had leaked information, who was subsequently viciously attacked on Slater’s blog and received death threats. Collins recommended about National Party infighting: “Personally I would be out for total destruction.” Now these two architects of political corruption are tasked with fighting it.
This directly contradicts New Zealand First’s founding principle: “An independent anti-corruption commission will be established to enable New Zealanders to have confidence that their institutions are working properly.” Deputy Prime Minister Winston Peters has repeatedly advocated for an anti-corruption model like those in Australia, yet his party facilitated this inadequate substitute.
Australia’s Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC) offers a stark contrast. When New South Wales Premier Nick Greiner introduced ICAC in 1989, he became the first person it investigated—for offering a political opponent a government job to trigger a by-election. Though the finding was later overturned on appeal, the message was clear: nobody is above scrutiny.
ICAC possesses extensive investigation and prosecution powers to pursue bribery and corruption, abuse of power, breaches of public trust, dishonesty and fraud, and perverting the course of justice. It operates independently of police, with its own investigators and powers. Public hearings ensure transparency. Multiple premiers and ministers have been felled by ICAC investigations, demonstrating that political power offers no protection.
New Zealand has nothing comparable. Instead, it relies on the perception of integrity—ranked third globally on Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index—while complaints go uninvestigated or inadequately pursued. This week’s revelations demonstrate that ranking highly on corruption perception indices means little if systemic failures prevent proper investigation of complaints.
The McSkimming scandal should be New Zealand’s ICAC moment—the catalyst for genuine structural reform. Instead, the Government has appointed an Inspector-General of Police, another layer of oversight that still lacks the independence and teeth required to tackle corruption wherever it lurks.
Until New Zealand establishes a truly independent anti-corruption commission with powers matching Australia’s ICAC, its reputation for clean governance will remain an illusion sustained by institutional complicity and media acquiescence. The only question is how many more scandals must surface before New Zealanders demand the accountability infrastructure their democracy deserves.
