Judith Collins’ resignation has, it is suggested in some quarters, allowed a line to be drawn under the whole dirty politics saga. We can, it seems, get on with the “real issues” of the election. Such optimism, however, seems entirely misplaced.

First, there can surely be no more important issue that the fitness to govern of some of these pretending to office. What could be more serious than the abuse of power – its use, not to serve the interests of the country, but to discredit and destroy, in an unfair, vicious and underhand way, those whom the government sees as its opponents?

In other countries and at other times, such abuses have led to those responsible being dismissed from office in disgrace – Richard M. Nixon is one obvious example. Are we really to say that, whereas the Americans thought such behaviour worthy of impeachment, we will set it aside as no longer among the “real issues” of our general election campaign?

And could there be a clearer example of that abuse of power than the apparent secret complicity by a minister with a notorious muckraker and practitioner of the dubious art of destroying reputations with the intention of “gunning for” the chief executive of an important agency for which she had ministerial responsibility?

John Key tells us that he retains an open mind about the truth of these serious allegations. What is beyond doubt, however, is the close relationship between Judith Collins and Cameron Slater – the one treated by the other as his confidante and mentor – and her willingness to use his services in order to further her political goals.

The inquiry announced by John Key into the whole rotten business may well be designed to serve the usual purpose of such inquiries – the deferment of any conclusion about guilt or innocence until after the crucial date – in this case, election day – by which time memories are less clear and it will in any case be too late. And what the inquiry will presumably not do is take a wider view of the involvement of the National Party, at every level, including the very top, with such disreputable people and practices.

Yet it is the very integrity of the government as a whole that is the “real issue”. It beggars belief that, in a government and a party so much dominated by its leader as to warrant the sobriquet “TeamKey”, John Key did not know and did not therefore, tacitly at least, approve the use of the special skills of the likes of Cameron Slater.

He virtually admits as much. His principal defence against the charge that he is personally involved is that “this is the nature of modern politics” and “everybody does it”. It is only the nature of modern politics because people like John Key allow it and like Cameron Slater make it so.

In the excitement of the moment, as well, let us remind ourselves of the bizarre nature of John Key’s announcement of Judith Collins’ resignation and the holding of an inquiry. It is only a week or so ago that another inquiry was announced into yet another aspect of the dirty politics saga.

That inquiry was, in effect, into John Key’s own conduct. The inquiry will attempt to answer the question – did John Key know that the Security Intelligence Services, for which he is the responsible minister, would release a secret report, denied to all other media, but released with unusual alacrity to – that name again – Cameron Slater? That released report involved, of course, the then Leader of the Opposition and was used by Cameron Slater to denigrate him as a general election campaign got under way.

John Key attempted to deflect attention about his involvement in this episode to the quite separate and much less important question as to whether he had been told in person by the Director of the SIS that the release had been made, after the deed had been done.

We must hope and expect that Inspector-General, in her inquiry, will focus on the real question – did John Key know (and almost certainly approve) that the release should be made when Cameron Slater was tipped off that he should seek it? Given the National Party’s close reliance on Slater for such purposes, does it not again defy belief that, on such a sensitive matter, John Key was not kept in the loop?

Are the allegations against John Key any less serious than those against Judith Collins? Is the willingness to use the country’s secret services for the partisan (and distasteful) purposes of the responsible minister not the most serious breach of proper practice that could be imagined?

So why is the case against Judith Collins enough to warrant her resignation, while John Key, subject to no less serious allegations, sails serenely on? Is there not a dreadful irony in seeing one of those subject to serious allegations of dirty politics (John Key) accepting the resignation of the other (Judith Collins).

As no doubt intended, the inquiries may not report till after the election. But the election does provide the opportunity for an earlier day of reckoning.

Bryan Gould

30 August 2014

The charge sheet against John Key could hardly be more serious. If it could be shown that he had misused his position as the Minister for the security and intelligence services to discredit his political opponents and had then lied about doing so, it is hard to see that he could stay in office.

The charges, however, have not yet been conclusively proved. The Prime Minister has so far managed, by the skin of his teeth, to avoid censure by claiming that he was not personally involved in the disreputable behaviour that has come to light. But he has been able to do so because we have been asking the wrong question.

Over recent days, three successive disclosures have all pointed to his involvement in the release to the notorious right-wing blogger, Cameron Slater, of an SIS document that was detrimental to the then Leader of the Opposition. First, a letter from the Director of the SIS, Warren Tucker, referred three times to the Prime Minister being informed of the release.

Secondly, a letter from the Ombudsman made a similar reference to the SIS Director discussing the matter with the Prime Minister. And thirdly, a television interview with the Prime Minister just after the release has him acknowledging that he had been briefed on it by the SIS Director.

The Prime Minister, however, asserts that none of this is conclusive. The three references to the fact that he was informed of the release mean simply that his office was informed; he himself, he says, was blissfully unaware that it had happened until much later.

However incredible this may seem, it is an assertion that – without someone from the Prime Minister’s staff breaking ranks – is practically impossible to disprove. The result is stalemate; those who want to believe the Prime Minister will continue to do so.

Let us, however, give the Prime Minister the benefit of the doubt. Let us assume that the SIS Director did not speak to him, either by phone or in person, but simply passed on the information that the release had been made to whoever was his point of contact in the Prime Minister’s office, and that that person then unaccountably thought that it was of so little consequence that the Prime Minister could be kept in the dark about it.

If this was really what happened, the Prime Minister could then say, as he does, that he was not personally informed. He could then offer to repeat that assertion – not in good conscience but with technical accuracy – on oath. But is the question of whether or not he was informed in person after the release had been made actually relevant to the real issue – his involvement or otherwise in the planning and approval that preceded and made the release possible?

In order to answer that question, let us review what we know. We know that the SIS had a confidential record of a briefing they had provided to the Leader of the Opposition. We know that all other media requests under the Official Information Act for the release of that record had been refused. We know that the Prime Minister treated Cameron Slater as a personal friend and political ally and that his office was in regular contact with Slater and briefed him on a range of issues – as did a number of other ministers including Judith Collins and Gerry Brownlee.

We know that Slater put in a request for the release of the SIS record and that it was immediately granted – with unusual alacrity. We know that Slater then used the release to discredit the Leader of the Opposition and that this was helpful to the National Party, as it was intended to be, with a general election in the offing.

We know that the SIS would invariably be required to brief their Minister on such a sensitive matter; the whole government machine is constantly reminded of the “no surprises” policy. We know that it is unthinkable that such a highly political – not to say partisan – release of information would not be discussed by the SIS with their regular contact in the Prime Minister’s office, and that it is equally unthinkable that that contact, surely the Prime Minister’s most trusted adviser or advisers, would not have discussed the implications (and political advantages) of that action with him – as well as the means, possibly, by which his own fingerprints could be made to disappear from the scene of the crime.

We also know that we are entitled to conflate what his office knew with what he himself knew; that is, after all, what both the SIS Director and the Ombudsman assumed, and what the Prime Minister himself accepted was the case in his television interview at the time.

The whole question of whether the Prime Minister was subsequently informed as a formal matter of record of the release matters little and is, in other words, irrelevant. By focussing on the three references to the subsequent briefing, the Prime Minister’s inquisitors have allowed themselves to be distracted from asking the real question. Is it not incredible that the Prime Minister did not know in advance of Slater’s Official Information request and had not been consulted about it, either directly by the SIS or by his own office? Is that not the question that the Prime Minister must answer under oath?

Bryan Gould

23 August 2014

Swearing is not often a major factor in the political debate. Yet John Key’s alleged use of the “f-word” seems to have assumed considerable significance in the run-up to election day.

Students of politics will recall Duncan Garner’s recent account of what he heard when he listened to the recording inadvertently made of the conversation between the Prime Minister and John Banks over the infamous “cup of tea” in Epsom. They will also have noted Garner’s surprising assertion that, when he was repeatedly questioned by the Prime Minister as to what he had heard, John Key’s main concern seemed to be whether or not he had used the “f-word”.

There were of course other elements of that conversation that might, we are led to believe, have had a greater political downside for the Prime Minister. It is accepted, for example, that he and his erstwhile political friend, John Banks, made some disparaging remarks about their former colleague, Don Brash, and also agreed that older voters did not count for much since they would soon die off. On the face of it, therefore, it is surprising that John Key’s focus was on the particular swear word that he might or might not have used.

The issue has re-emerged in the context of the current controversy over the Prime Minister’s relationship with Cameron Slater, the eminence grise (or should it be noire?) behind the Wale Oil blog. John Key, it seems, telephoned Slater (is it just coincidence that the dictionary definition of “slater” is “a kind of louse”?) to commiserate with him over the storm that followed the blogger’s description of a West Coast victim of a fatal traffic accident as “feral”.

John Key apparently knew something of the victim’s mother who not surprisingly had objected to Slater’s comment. He put a figurative arm around the shoulder of his blogging colleague and, perhaps tempted by the alliteration, said – as reported by Slater himself – that the mother was “the same effing feral woman” who had heckled him at a public meeting. Again, it seems, the aspect of that reported comment that John Key is most keen to dispute is his use of the f-word.

Why, then, is the Prime Minister so sensitive on this issue when there are surely more substantial matters that are raised by these controversies? We do no tneed to look far for an answer.

John Key has invested hugely in the development of his image as a “nice guy”. His political future and the survival of his National government depend almost entirely on his ability to maintain that image.

But that is not easy. John Key is adept at changing his personality to suit the context. Chameleon-like, he can switch effortlessly from being the caring family man to being “one of the boys”, from the successful foreign exchange dealer to the All Blacks’ greatest fan. But each new personality requires a different language – and when he is talking to a Cameron Slater or a John Banks, the language of a “tough guy” is inevitably that of the gutter.

It is a difficult juggling act to keep going. If the wider electorate heard the language he uses in particular contexts, they might realise that what they see is a façade, and that they cannot be certain of precisely who the real John Key actually is.

We are helped to identify the real John Key by reflecting that Slater and Banks and their ilk are his chosen colleagues – presumably the people he feels closest to and most comfortable with. What we learn from his exchanges with them, and his willingness to use what many people would still regard as foul language, is that he is not the amiable “nice guy” of his public image and that the person who is actually in charge of the country is a ruthless political operator.

His closest supporters would no doubt argue that a ruthless political operator is just what is needed, and that he has no need to apologise for being just that. The Prime Minister who supports and connives with a Cameron Slater, and who stands by a Judith Collins, might after all be acceptable to the electorate; but in that case, should we not know him for what he is, and not what he pretends to be?

The apparently trivial matter of the occasional use of a swear word therefore assumes a much greater significance; it could be seen as signpost to the truth. And if our Prime Minister is so concerned to conceal that minor transgression from the voters, what else is he hiding?

The whole carefully contrived image, in other words, could be threatened if the voters are allowed to hear what the Prime Minister really says to his political friends. And if that were to happen, the Prime Minister might find that he is “f……d” – that is, finished.

Bryan Gould

19 August 2014