(First published in The Dominion Post, May 19.)
I’VE BEEN scratching my head trying to recall the number of
times when someone in a position of responsibility in New Zealand fell on their
sword in atonement for things that went badly wrong.
Conservation Minister Denis Marshall did it after the Cave
Creek viewing platform collapse in 1995 and Labour Minister Kate Wilkinson
stepped down in 2012 over Pike River – in both cases, after commissions of
inquiry released highly critical reports.
Those two aside, I struggle to remember any minister,
department head or company boss taking the rap for tragedies or adverse events that
involved human failure.
Accountability, the long-established principle that someone
should be seen to take responsibility for serious mistakes, is frequently talked
about but rarely practised.
When an inquiry panel released its report last week into the
Havelock North water contamination scandal that caused 5000 people to get sick
and was implicated in three deaths, Hastings mayor Lawrence
Yule was quick to absolve himself of any fault. “I didn’t personally cause this contamination,” he said, and
of course that’s true. But it’s not the point.
Yule doesn’t seem to grasp that someone in charge has to carry
the can, if only symbolically. People expect it. It’s the price that has to be
paid for keeping the system honest.
If no one ends up accepting personal responsibility and incurring
a penalty, there’s little incentive to make sure it doesn’t happen again. That’s
why, in the Westminster parliamentary system, ministers bear ultimate
responsibility for their departments and are expected to resign if their
subordinates fail seriously in their duty.
This applies even though the minister may have had no idea
that things were going pear-shaped. The rationale behind the principle is that
it puts pressure on ministers to ensure everyone’s doing their job properly.
That creates a culture of rigour and discipline that filters
down through the system and keeps everyone on their toes.
At least that’s the theory, and the same principle applies
in local government – which is why a lot of people in Havelock North, including
the man interviewed on television who spent weeks in hospital and lost 11 kg as
a result of bacterial infection, expected heads to roll following the e-coli
outbreak. Faint hope, I’m afraid.
For Yule, the timing was unfortunate. My impression is that he
has been a very good mayor, which is why voters have repeatedly returned him to
office since he was first elected in 2001. But his attempt to distance himself
from responsibility for the water contamination is unlikely to win him votes
when he stands for National in the Tukituki electorate later this year.
To be fair, he’s not the only high-profile figure anxious to
absolve himself of blame for things that have gone wrong on his watch. Former
Ministry of Transport head Martin Matthews must have been squirming as the media
revealed acutely embarrassing details of the audacious $725,000 fraud perpetrated
by his ex-employee Joanne Harrison.
Judging by what’s been reported, there were multiple signs
that Harrison was ripping off the ministry. Short of wearing a flashing neon
sign saying “I am a crook”, she could hardly have been more brazen.
Yet far from having his career prospects damaged by the
scandal, Matthews was rewarded with a promotion to the position of
Auditor-General – a job in which he’s required to make sure no one misuses taxpayers’
money.
The irony is exquisite. Please, no one tell John Oliver, the
irritatingly smug US-based TV host who loves nothing more than poking fun at quaint
little New Zealand.
It’s not only in the public sector that bosses manage to
evade responsibility for shocking failures. No one took the blame or paid a
penalty for the tragic collapse of the CTV building in the 2011 Canterbury
earthquake, despite damning evidence of professional dereliction.
Ditto the 2010 disaster at Pike River, where the families of
the 29 dead miners still cry out for justice. Again there was clear evidence of
multiple failures at multiple levels, but only token penalties were imposed.
Why does it seem so hard to establish culpability for
catastrophic mistakes? One possible explanation is that as bureaucracies grow
bigger and more amorphous, lines of accountability become blurred and blame
becomes harder to sheet home.
Management structures sometimes seem designed to protect and
insulate people. Responsibility gets diffused and the smoking gun, if there is
one, is buried so deep that official inquiries never seem able to find it.
And in the meantime, public confidence in “the system” continues to be steadily eroded.
And in the meantime, public confidence in “the system” continues to be steadily eroded.
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