Cloistered institutions both

One of the interesting sidelights of the Stephen Wilce affair has been the glimpse it affords into the culture of the defence establishment.

It has often struck me over the years that Defence has a lot in common with the Catholic Church. Both are insular, stiffly hierarchical and attach exaggerated importance to ritual and tradition. They have their own sets of rules, often quite unrelated to the way things are done on the outside (an example was the double-dipping on accommodation allowances by senior Defence Force officers posted to the UN in New York – it was just the way things were done, and no one questioned it despite the obvious impropriety).

Both institutions are resistant to outside scrutiny and give the impression of being resentful when they are subjected to it. They appear slightly disconnected from the outside world and not very well equipped to cope when it intrudes. We saw this with the Catholic Church in its ham-fisted response to media attention over sex abuse, and we have seen it with Defence’s clumsy handling of the controversy over the sexed-up CV that apparently landed Wilce his sensitive job at the top of the Defence Technology Agency.

Still unexplained is the fact that concerns were apparently raised about Wilce as long ago as 2008, but not acted upon. In fact $250,000 of taxpayers’ money was subsequently spent sending him on an eight-month course at the Royal College of Defence Studies. And when a complaint was made about Wilce in July this year, Defence apparently didn’t even bother to take the elementary step of checking with Momentum, the consultancy that recruited him. This suggests a culture of complacency – perhaps even an attitude that Defence is above the procedures and protocols that apply to other agencies of the state. I hope I’m wrong.

TV3 political reporter Patrick Gower, in his blog, highlighted defence chief Jerry Mateparae’s unconvincing response to questions about the scandal. “Mateparae initially argued he couldn’t say anything in case ‘whistleblower’ legislation was enacted – but then the Lieutenant General admitted there was no whistleblower, but an anonymous letter,” Gower wrote. “He also said it was an ‘employment issue’ – even though Wilce has quit.” Clearly, Mateparae was either ill-prepared for the media’s questions or thought he could simply brush them off.

Almost as worrying to me was Mateparae’s resort to bland bureaucrat-speak. “He [Wilce] has represented us as the chief scientist in venues where he’s got to deliver against competencies that are quite rigorous and he’s been doing that quite well as far as I’m concerned,” Mateparae was quoted as saying. He went on to say that Wilce had been “delivering against the competency sets that I expect him to deliver.”

Does it make anyone else uneasy when the Chief of the Defence Force uses ghastly HR jargon (“competency sets”) to defend Wilce’s appointment – and in so doing, attempts to sidestep the real issue, which is how Wilce got the job in the first place? (Mateparae, it should be noted, wasn’t in charge when Wilce was appointed, so can’t be blamed for hiring him.)

Political columnist Gordon Campbell wonders whether the Defence Force and the intelligence community enjoy too close a relationship. It’s a fair question, especially since Mateparae is to be the next head of the Government Communications and Security Bureau. It all starts to look a little cosy, which might explain why the SIS didn’t bother to exert itself too strenuously checking Wilce’s credentials, even though he was up for a highly sensitive position.

What is it about Defence?

What is it about our Defence people? Our troops on the ground, in trouble spots like Timor Leste, Afghanistan and the Solomons, invariably acquit themselves with great distinction. But Defence HQ seems terminally dysfunctional, with a particularly disturbing penchant for making ill-advised procurement decisions dating back to the purchase of the infamous HMNZS Charles Upham, a ship that rolled so heavily on its maiden voyage that the captain feared for its safety. (It was decommissioned after only three years.) More recent purchases, such as the frigate Canterbury, have been plagued by design and equipment faults, and heads are still being scratched over the bizarre decision in 2003 to spend $680 million buying 105 light armoured vehicles for purposes which remain a mystery. (Only three were deployed to Afghanistan, though it would seem the very sort of place where LAVs might come in handy. Perhaps the other 102 have been kept behind in case of the armed insurrection we were told the Tuhoe were planning in the Urewera.)

Now Defence has been hugely embarrassed by revelations on TV3’s 60 Minutes that Englishman Stephen Wilce, head of the Defence Technology Agency, creatively enhanced his CV with bogus claims about his past achievements. It seems even the most elementary checks weren’t made – an inexcusable failing in an era when Google makes it possible to establish very quickly whether Wilce was, for example, a former member of the British Olympic bobsleigh team, as he claimed.

Wilce (who has now resigned) was reportedly known in a former job as Walter Mitty, after the humorist James Thurber’s famous fictional fantasist, and you certainly have to wonder about the naivety of whoever employed him. In secret camera footage showing a flabby-looking, podgy Wilce incongruously talking to a 60 Minutes journalist about his supposed background in top-level sport and military combat, his body language screamed bullshit artist. He might as well have had the words emblazoned on a flashing neon sign attached to his forehead.

As in previous similar cases (the name Mary Anne Thompson springs to mind), it seems that a whistle-blower aroused suspicions about Wilce’s credentials well before the public got wind of the scandal – yet he was stood down only last week, when Defence must have known TV3 was onto the story. Funny, that.

Defence Force chief Jerry Mateparae assures us that Wilce did exceptional work for Defence, but that’s no excuse for appointing someone to a highly sensitive position without first checking that his CV was kosher. It hardly encourages confidence in the Defence establishment, or the spycatchers of the Security Intelligence Service (which has the job of vetting such applicants), that Wilce was able to slip so easily through the net. In fact it’s such a high-level farce that the best one can hope for is that a clever satirist will make a great play out of it.