Targeted? The actions of the NZ Police in relation to Nicky Hager are deeply concerning. It is very difficult to avoid the conclusion that the ability of New Zealand's foremost investigative journalist to do his job is being deliberately undermined.
MARTYN BRADBURY’S LATEST POSTING on The Daily Blog should give every member of the democratic public
serious pause. The allegations levelled at the NZ Police are serious and deeply
concerning. It is very difficult, having read Martyn’s post, to avoid the
conclusion that Nicky Hager may be the victim of deliberate political
persecution, and that among the principal agents of that persecution may be
members of the NZ Police Force.
With the specifics of the actions taken against Mr Hager
forming a significant part of active legal proceedings, it would be improper to
rehearse them on The Daily Blog. What
can be examined, however, is the enormous risk posed to the integrity of our
democratic institutions by the merest suspicion that senior politicians, senior
civil servants, senior policemen and senior jurists might be involved in an
effort to both frighten and silence what used to be called, back in the days of
the Cold War, “political dissidents”.
What distinguishes the “political dissident” from the more
familiar “political activist” is their specificity. Activists may give public
voice to generalised complaints against individuals and institutions, but
dissidents sharpen such complaints by supplying the public with hard evidence
of specific wrong-doing – often supplied to them by a whistleblower or, in Mr
Hager’s case, a hacker. Alternatively, the evidence may simply have been
uncovered by applying the techniques of good, old-fashioned, investigative
journalism.
Liberal democracies have very little to fear from activists.
Objections to government policy and/or corporate behaviour based on political ideology
or religious belief constitute no real threat to the smooth unfolding of
long-prepared strategies and plans. After all, the actions of powerful
institutions – be they public or private – are almost always undertaken within
the law and are, therefore, extremely difficult to stop. Indeed, it is only
when the placard-waving (but otherwise ineffective) activists avail themselves
of a lawyer or two that they graduate to dissident status – at least in the
eyes of their opponents.
Lawyers, like the best investigative journalists, have ways
of extracting information the powers-that-be would rather they, their clients, and/or
the general public, didn’t see. In the hands of a good team of lawyers, legal
discovery can be an immensely powerful weapon. The constitutional separation of
powers means that the Judiciary can require the Executive Branch of Government,
or a private corporation, to divulge all manner of secret material. Discovery
cuts both ways, however, so those who go after the secrets of the powerful must
be prepared for the powerful to come after theirs.
But if lawyers pose a genuine threat to the secret dealings
of the powerful, they are also extremely hazardous to their client’s bank balance.
This enables the State, by dint of having its very own “law firm” – Crown Law –
and a practically inexhaustible supply of funds, to adopt a strategy of
litigation attrition. By extending and multiplying the mechanisms of the Law,
the Crown is frequently able to wear down or financially exhaust its opponents.
If an out-of-court settlement is arrived at by the contending parties it will
almost always contain a comprehensive confidentiality clause. The dissident and
his or her lawyers may “win” their case, but the State’s secrets remain just
that – secrets.
What truly terrifies the wielders of public and private
power are processes of “discovery” that owe nothing to the operation of the
courts. Edward Snowden was able to use his privileged access to the secrets of
the United States’ National Security Agency, to expose its highly questionable
(and in some cases illegal) activities to the whole world. The specificity of
the information he released (that the US eavesdropped on the conversations of
the German Chancellor, for example) produced the most acute diplomatic embarrassment.
Likewise his detailed description of the architecture of mass surveillance.
Nicky Hager’s book, Dirty
Politics, delivered an equally destructive blow to the secret world of
right-wing influence peddling and political character assassination. The
hitherto unseen architecture of political manipulation in New Zealand was laid
bare in a way that caught the subjects of Mr Hager’s investigation completely
off-guard. It was the same with his earlier publications: Secret Power, Secrets and
Lies, Seeds of Distrust, The Hollow Men and Other People’s Wars. In every case those under scrutiny had no idea
that their activities were about to be exposed.
This “ambush” strategy has been criticised by Mr Hager’s opponents
as unethical and contrary to the “rules of good journalism”. What it achieves,
however, is the unimpeded distribution of his publications. Had the subjects of
Mr Hager’s investigations been alerted to the fact that a book was in
preparation, or, about to be published, it is highly likely that they would
have attempted to legally injunct its release. Rather than offer his subjects the
traditional right-of-reply, therefore, Mr Hager exhaustively checks and
re-checks his facts to ensure that there is no possibility of legal restraint.
That he has never been successfully sued bears testimony to the thoroughness of
this pre-publication scrutiny.
What does a government “do” about a dissident of such
consistent effectiveness as Nicky Hager? How reassuring it would be if we could
answer, simply, that the powers-that-be, both public and private, redouble
their efforts to conduct themselves ethically and openly. The revelations
contained in Martyn Bradbury’s blogpost, however, strongly suggest that their
reaction has been very different.
It’s as if someone, somewhere, has echoed the anguished cry
of King Henry II.
When confronted with further evidence of the Archbishop of
Canterbury’s, Thomas Becket’s, political and religious defiance, Henry
bellowed: “Will no one rid me of this troublesome priest!” Did Henry know that
four of his knights had taken him at his word and were on their way to slay the
Archbishop before his altar? We shall never know. He always claimed ignorance
of his men-at-arms’ intent, and did penance for the crime his words inspired.
At the end of the day, however, his problem had, actually, been solved.
Rogue elements in the Police Force? Or a carefully devised
plan to bring down a dissident? Either way, the outlook for the democratic
public is grim.
This essay was
originally posted on The Daily Blog
of Monday, 13 July 2015.
