Nobbling royal commissions: a Scott Morrison how-to guide

This is part two of a series. Click here to read the rest.

As in many other areas, the Morrison government evolved its political tactics for royal commissions in the nearly four years it was in office. With a prime minister entirely focused on political management rather than dealing with policy issues or responding effectively to crises, it was inevitable that the way his government used a key management tool developed over time.

It was Malcolm Turnbull who called the banking royal commission, but Morrison was treasurer at the time and it fell to him to implement the recommendations of Kenneth Hayne after Turnbull’s removal. The government had attempted to manage the Hayne royal commission by giving it only a limited life — it had just over a year — and inserting superannuation into the terms of reference in the doomed hope of ensnaring the industry super sector in the inquiry.

Undeterred, Hayne ploughed through nearly 70 days of hearings, most of which featured the bloodsport of banking executives, financial planners and regulators being shredded by counsel assisting. Such was the public outrage at the constant flow of revelations of misconduct, Morrison and his treasurer, Josh Frydenberg, had to commit to fully implementing all Hayne’s recommendations, at least “in principle” — despite the Liberals’ traditional close links with, and extensive political donations from, the banking sector and retail super.

But while Frydenberg spent much of 2019 insisting he would implement nearly all the recommendations, two years later the majority had not been implemented. Frydenberg and Morrison used the pandemic as an excuse to first delay, and then abandon or reverse, the implementation of a number of recommendations disliked by banks.

The pandemic wouldn’t save him from the aged care crisis, however. The aged care royal commission — which, like the NT juvenile justice inquiry, followed a damning report by Four Corners — produced plenty of embarrassing headlines about the state of the aged care sector under the Coalition, and the broader model of funding and governance the Howard government had established two decades before.

The commission’s special report on the impact of COVID-19 on the sector detailed how the Morrison government failed to learn any lessons from the early aged care COVID outbreaks, leading to the deaths of hundreds of seniors in later COVID waves.

In managing the politics of the aged care royal commission, Morrison was assisted by the untimely death of Richard Tracey in late 2019 (Tracey having himself been a replacement), leaving Lynelle Briggs as the only continuously serving commissioner across the life of the inquiry; Briggs’ and Tracey’s replacement, Tony Pagone, were unable to agree on all recommendations, and split on recommendations such as the source of additional aged care funding and the institutional administrative arrangements for the sector.

The result was a report that described a sector in crisis and outlined a strong case for action, but without clear-cut recommendations in key areas, such as the need to shift oversight and funding of aged care entirely out of the control of ministers, as Pagone had urged.

After receiving the final report, Morrison, as always thinking only of the political management task, announced a press conference with half an hour’s notice at which both the final report and the government’s response were released, preventing journalists from asking detailed questions, until ABC 7.30’s Anne Connolly savaged Morrison for doing so.

Behind the announcement of additional funding for aged care, Morrison was ignoring much of the report, including the recommendation to ditch the appalling Aged Care Quality and Safety Commission, which had been established under Morrison.

In contrast, the inquiry into abuse of Australians with disabilities established in 2019 — which wrapped up its final hearings in May — was primarily a policy challenge for state governments. While criticised for failing to call the inquiry, and then saying he had to obtain the agreement of the states, Morrison knew even the most forensic royal commission posed no threat to his government.

It was given until 2022 to report; respected former judge Ronald Sackville, who has written about royal commissions and was on the Australian Law Reform Commission’s advisory panel on the issue, was appointed to lead it, and was backed by first five, and then six, other commissioners, one more than Julia Gillard had appointed to the child sexual abuse royal commission.

The bushfires royal commission after the Black Summer bushfires was also partly in response to state-controlled issues — bushfire management and disaster response are firmly in the hands of the states — but also had to address widespread and justified perceptions that Morrison had been too slow to provide help to the Australian Defence Force. Just three commissioners were appointed — former ADF chief Mark Binskin, former judge Annabelle Bennett and ANU Professor Andrew Macintosh — and they were given just six months. Notably, the terms of reference mentioned climate change only once, and in passing.

The inquiry into veterans’ and serving ADF members’ suicide — which Morrison was reluctantly forced into in mid-2021 amid constant demands for an inquiry from the families of serving ADF personnel and veterans — was a different case. The issues were entirely within the control of the Commonwealth, and the Brereton report had already revealed extensive war crimes by ADF personnel in Afghanistan, confirming that there was something deeply awry in Australia’s military culture.

Rather than follow the example of the disability royal commission, Morrison gave the inquiry less than two years (since extended) and appointed only three commissioners — former NSW deputy police commissioner Nick Kaldas, former Queensland judge James Douglas and psychiatrist Dr Peggy Brown. There is no Hayne or Sackville to provide strong leadership, and not enough experienced commissioners to address the sheer complexity of the issues involved, which not merely cover military culture and defence and veterans’ affairs bureaucracies, but the welfare system, healthcare services provided by the states’ private providers and mental health support.

And in contrast to, for example, the banking royal commission or the aged care royal commission, counsel assisting the commission has achieved relatively little in terms of forensic examination of those with overall responsibility for veteran welfare. Defence representatives, up to ADF chief Angus Campbell, have emerged entirely unscathed from examination by the counsel assisting; there’s been no repeat of the banking royal commission, despite the far greater stakes involved — 1600 suicides of ADF members and veterans. So far the evidence is of commissioners out of their depth in dealing with defence bureaucracy and a deformed military culture.

Families of veterans and serving personnel might be justified in wondering if Morrison had been fully committed to the success of a royal commission he had to be reluctantly dragged to commence, and which would serve only to embarrass his government, particularly given his efforts to portray Labor as weak on military and national security matters.

With Morrison gone, will royal commissions revert to their former status, or did his reliance on them as political tools expose more fundamental problems with the way governments use them?

Tomorrow: effective inquiries, and would a Murdoch royal commission work?