The major gripe when ex-attorney general Christian Porter released his national integrity commission legislation in November 2020, almost two years after Scott Morrison promised it, was that when it came to politicians, the proceedings were going to be closed door.
The denial of open justice was certainly not the only issue with Porter’s toothless dog, and by that stage, the failed model that was put on offer reflected the overall belligerence and lack of accountability that the public had come to expect from the Morrison government.
Then, as this year’s election began to appear on the horizon, opposition leader Anthony Albanese promised to establish what was then referred to as a federal ICAC, which brought hope when most of the nation had considered that all had been dashed.
Following the Labor win, the good and honest chief lawmaker Mark Dreyfus delivered his version of the integrity watchdog, the National Anti-Corruption Commission, which ticked all the boxes, except for one, and that was that the default position was again going to be closed door proceedings.
But this time there was no huge outcry of disappointment, just a little grizzling, because the excuse given, and to an extent bought, was that politicians’ reputations are of such importance that dragging them across the coals on what may turn out to be false allegations could be damaging.
Well, what a load of bunk, because if we step back a little and take a better look at what we’re being asked to swallow, it’s obvious that reputation is important to all of us, not just politicians, and when the average person appears in court accused of something, it’s done so out in the open.
On a pedestal
Open justice is foundational to the rule of law. It requires that court proceedings are held in public, as this engages the oversight of the people, as their bearing witness to hearings ensures that justice is upheld, and rights are safeguarded.
This whole-of-society approach makes open justice an exceedingly democratic principle.
But while this transparency in proceedings serves to guarantee matters are conducted in a just manner, it also means that the accused, no matter if ultimately found guilty, is cast in the public eye as a potential wrongdoer, and in some cases, this sticks even when found innocent.
The potential to have their reputation tarnished in this unwarranted way is how the Albanese government has justified its default closed proceedings for the NACC, because, evidently, politicians’ reputations are more important than the rest of the population’s.
This placing of their reputational stature at a more superior level than the average citizen’s is very undemocratic in nature. And sure, politicians might be in the public eye more regularly than a lot of the population, they also get well rewarded for this financially.
This undermining of open justice and hence, our democracy, is not limited to corruption hearings, as lately, there has been attempts to shroud the political prosecutions – Witness K, Collaery, McBride and Boyle – in at least some level of secrecy to protect politicians’ and public servants’ reputations.
Although, some ministers prefer to term this as protecting national security.
A case in point
In terms of a politician having their private life and alleged wrongdoing in the public spotlight, over recent years, the most prominent example of this has been Gladys Berejiklian, who stood down as NSW premier in October last year, after the state ICAC announced it would be investigating her.
Berejiklian was then publicly scrutinised by our state’s watchdog about her failure to disclose her five year relationship with former colleague ex-NSW Liberal MP Daryl Maguire, as well as her overseeing the awarding of two multimillion dollar grants to projects in his electorate.
The former NSW premier’s reputation was severely tarnished. She was made to sit through public hearings, her actions were all the press could focus on for a while and the corruption watchdog is yet to deliver its findings.
However, despite all this this, Berejiklian commenced working in the role of head of enterprise at Australian telecommunications company Optus in February.
So, the Berejiklian example not only reveals that the idea that politicians’ reputations are exceedingly important to them doesn’t hold, but it also shows that Labor’s reasoning for making the NACC a closed-door default operation is simply a nice excuse.
And if further evidence is needed to show that reputation hardly matters when it comes to politicians’ longevity just ask Morrison and Porter about their experiences.