Centre for the Study of Corruption

Professor Robert Barrington of the Centre for the Study of Corruption (CSC) applies the lens of corruption analysis to the Peter Mandelson case, to explore whether we can apply the term in this case and why that might be useful.

Is Peter Mandelson corrupt (assuming the allegations against him are true)?  Long story short: yes.  Here’s why.

There are three broad sets of allegations:

1. that he leaked sensitive government information to Jeffrey Epstein  and received some kind of benefit in return
2. that the relationship with the Epstein network and the casual leaking of government information illustrates the existence of a self-serving chumocracy
3. that as a part of the Epstein network, he is very likely to have had some insight into the sexual exploitation of minors that was going coordinated by Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell, and often taking place at Epstein’s properties. 

We can analyse Mandelson’s actions using the recently published definition by our team at the Centre for the Study of Corruption: ‘The abuse of entrusted power for private gain which harms the public interest, typically breaching laws, regulations and/or integrity standards.’  This gives us a four-step test for establishing whether corruption has occurred.

The Epstein case is difficult and sensitive territory.  Applying the lens of corruption analysis will focus us on aspects of the case other than the sexual predation, but that should in no way diminish the sense of shame and responsibility that must be felt towards the victims.  Looking through the corruption lens, hobnobbing with known sex offenders, or the enjoyment of a luxury lifestyle provided by them, is more akin to the old-fashioned usage of being morally corrupt, a term which might be generally applied to all those who were both part of the Epstein network and had any inkling of what was going on.

Abuse of entrusted power

Let’s apply the CSC four-step definition above specifically to the allegation that Mandelson leaked state secrets to Epstein and received some kind of benefit. Most obviously, as a government minister, he was in a position of entrusted power. The leak of sensitive government documents is an abuse – magnified here because the leak was to someone entirely outside government, a national of and located in another country, and in a good position to make a significant personal gain from those documents as they contained market sensitive information.

Harm to the public interest

Likewise, we can make a default assumption that there is likely to be harm to the public interest through the leaking of government documents. This does not mean a specific harm caused by any individual document, but a generalised harm caused by a breach of the ministerial code and the Nolan principles. I think we must always assume – unless proven otherwise – that a minister leaking sensitive government documents to a third-party who benefits from them is not in the public interest, hence the outcry from former officials, former ministers and the former Prime Minister under whom Mandelson served. The launch of an investigation by the Metropolitan Police may also establish there was criminality, but that is not a pre-requisite in terms of corruption: even if Mandelson does not face criminal charges, he may still have acted corruptly.

Private gain

But what about the private gain? We can see that Epstein was in a position to gain – but he was not abusing his trusted power. He was simply the beneficiary of an influential and well-connected friend passing him information. The key question is whether there was gain by Mandelson, the person with entrusted power.

It seems so, in two ways. First, both he and his husband seem to have gained financially and materially from the Epstein relationship in diverse forms over the years. It is worthwhile noting that often in bribery schemes, the quid pro quo can come years before or years after the public official acting improperly. That pattern has been well established in legal cases. Secondly, there are the lifestyle and commercial gains to Peter Mandelson from the hobnobbing and the highlife.  In one of his emails to Epstein he says that he cannot live on his salary alone, and it is clear that he was intending to benefit from Epstein’s network and connections in building his own consultancy business and enjoying a lifestyle of travel, trips and good living.

So, by applying the CSC definition’s four-step test, we can clearly say that if these allegations and documents prove to be valid, Mandelson must be considered corrupt. He might also be considered to have committed misconduct in public office and, to use another old-fashioned term, to be a traitor.

Can we say more?

But there is a further way of looking at this. Does this tell us anything about the establishment and cronyism, sometimes described as chumocracy, which are often cited as a British form of corruption? 

The Epstein documents give us an unusual insight into how such power and influence networks operate.  We can see that businesses and financiers are keen to use their relationships with politicians to influence decisions which favour them financially – and that politicians will sometimes oblige, and seem to be in a subordinate relationship.  We can also see there is a globalised elite, which lives in a bubble in which they seem to find it hard to distinguish between right and wrong, at times apparently believing that their own personal and business interests are somehow in the public interest.  They have a sense of entitlement and impunity.  They use aggressive lawyers to shut people up.  It is also evident that you do not have to lay out a lot of money to co-opt – or bribe – a British minister, if you can find one who is easily tempted.

I do not think the documents tell us that everyone is at it.  The incentives are certainly there for many businesses, and the ultra-high net worth elite, to build these networks and exploit these connections.  But are all politicians on the make like Mandelson?  There have been enough similar instances – multiple examples under the Johnson government, the David Cameron relationship with Lex Greensill, even Keir Starmer and wardrobe-gate – for this to be an obvious conclusion.  As an aside, we should remember that this kind of relationship building with a hope of future payback is what may be happening every time a large political donation is made. 

But many politicians would say that is unfair.  They are in a constant courtship with those who wish to influence them, their parties are constantly on the lookout for donations to keep the apparatus afloat, and any politician who has ambitions for promotion or leadership will want their own pack of wealthy supporters.  If we give the bulk of politicians the benefit of the doubt for not being like Mandelson, we must at least note that we put a lot of trust in the integrity of the individual politicians to manage this system, and in the systems that are meant to control bad behaviour like the Ministerial Code, but which were all too easily by-passed by the Johnson government.

Is it an example of chumocracy?

Does the Mandelson-Epstein relationship therefore exemplify the chumocracy in operation?  It seems to share some characteristics with the oft-cited allegation that a self-serving British establishment represents a form of structural corruption in our political economy.  But there are also some differences.  What we see with Epstein and Mandelson is representatives of a global elite more than a national elite.  It is made possible by extreme wealth, which in turn has sometimes been made possible by fixing the rules of market regulation and taxation in their own favour.

There may have been some corrupt acts in there as well, but to look for those may rather be missing the bigger picture – we might even describe Epstein’s entire network as a corrupting force.  It resembles an organised crime group: in the exchanges of favours between big players, sometimes with no immediate reward in sight but with the comfort of being in the network; the interplay between the legitimate economy and wealth acquired through darker means (in this case that we now know about, likely insider trading); the deliberate bringing together of money and politics; and the underlying criminality which members of the network tolerate because there is a veneer of civilised behaviour behind which they can shelter.

Mandelson’s embarrassingly craven efforts to be part of this Epstein network also bring to mind an earlier scandal in his career, when he enjoyed hospitality on the superyacht of a now-sanctioned Russian oligarch, and was then responsible for tariff changes that were favourable to the aluminium business of his oligarch chum.  Those of us who have long campaigned for stronger laws against kleptocracy and money laundering are naturally left wondering how far such networks have contributed behind the scenes to the British government’s inertia on issues like progressing measures for beneficial ownership transparency in the British Virgin Islands.

My own conclusion is that the Mandelson case does not quite demonstrate the structural corruption of the British establishment, but it does make the case for a thorough overhaul of the UK’s approach to political corruption – as promised by Starmer in opposition, but not to date delivered.

Why does it matter?

Finally, we might ask why it is important to label Peter Mandelson as corrupt, when he is already disgraced and subject to a criminal investigation.  I think there are three good reasons:

1. he may never be successfully prosecuted, but he should be shamed and disgraced – applying the label of corruption can contribute to this;
2. if he is acknowledged as being corrupt, there should be no possibility of a future return to any public office or any public honour;
3. more or less everyone accepts corruption is a bad thing, and demonstrating that corruption has been in operation at the heart of our politics should reinforce the case for tightening up our defences against political corruption.

The fallout from this sorry saga is likely to be both damaging and depressing.  It may prove difficult to hold Mandelson accountable for his disgraceful behaviour, certainly in a court of law.  But even worse, more people will become disillusioned with politics and the probity of politicians.  Surely, they will think, there must be something better on offer than a tainted democracy which fails to deliver on people’s everyday needs and priorities, while the politicians at the top are corrupt.  For an example of where that leads voters, we need look no further than Epstein’s home country, the United States.

Acknowledgement: my colleagues and MA students at the Centre for the Study of Corruption have debated this case extensively over the past few days, which has been enormously helpful in refining the reflections and insights in this blog.

Professor Robert Barrington from the Centre for the Study of Corruption looks at the use of research and evidence in the UK’s new Anti-Corruption Strategy.

Anti-corruption plans and strategies have a well-known challenge: what is the evidence base on which they can build a response? Copious academic research has concluded that a) corruption is hard to measure and b) existing measures mostly have flaws. Some countries (Nigeria and Bangladesh, for example) have been more fully researched than others, but some, including the UK, have historically not been well served by surveys or researchers.

The UK government’s Anti-Corruption Strategy 2025, a 120-page document released in December 2025, represents an ambitious attempt to address corruption in three ‘pillars’: corrupt actors, tackling UK vulnerabilities and global resilience. But does this Strategy rest on a solid foundation of research and evidence, or does it reveal gaps in our understanding of corruption’s true scale and nature in Britain?

Thorough preparation

The Home Office (lead department for the Strategy in government) clearly realised there was potentially an evidence gap, and that this might need to be filled if such a strategy document were to get political buy-in and have external credibility. The three-year delay in publishing the Strategy (yes, that’s right: three years) has probably been helpful in this regard. It has allowed for the commissioning of new research – from the University of Sussex and Ipsos – as well as the encouragement and assimilation of academic and think-tank research, and results from the early phases of the FCDO’s Anti-Corruption Evidence (ACE) programme to be published in a range of academic journals, books and other forums. Ground-breaking ACE research on procurement red flags, kleptocratic networks, the role of peer-to-peer accountability checks and mapping illicit financial flows are all referenced.

Good deployment of existing evidence

The Strategy deserves credit for acknowledging evidence gaps from the outset. The government admits that ‘it is difficult to quantify the overall scale of the corruption threat to the UK’ and that ‘reliable data is challenging to obtain and analyse.’ This honest assessment sets realistic expectations and demonstrates awareness of the measurement challenges. But this is also by some distance the most evidence-based plan or strategy that a UK government has produced on corruption to date. And the Home Office should be credited for publishing some of the underlying the research alongside the Strategy.

Where data exist, the Strategy deploys the information effectively to help make the case about why there is a problem and where it exists. For example, the document cites Home Office research showing that 68% of the public are concerned about corrupt foreign actors’ impact on national security, and 59% about their impact on housing markets. These figures help justify policy priorities around kleptocracy and sanctions. Similarly, the 2024 Economic Crime Survey’s finding that businesses were offered an estimated 117,000 bribes worth over £300 million provides new evidence of domestic corruption’s economic footprint.

The Strategy also references international benchmarks, noting that the UK was placed at its lowest ever ranking of 20th in Transparency International’s 2024 Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI). Although the use of the CPI as a measurement tool for national progress has had its fair share of academic criticism, it remains the most widely used and reported measure of corruption, and this comparative evidence creates urgency around reputational damage, positioning anti-corruption work as essential to Britain’s global standing.

Overall, the Strategy has a substantively different feel to previous documents, as though research and the evidence base have been key considerations in drafting the priorities and commitments. That gives it a welcome sense of coherence and authority.

Where evidence needs tightening

Despite these strengths, some important evidence gaps remain. The note that ‘evidence of corruption in public procurement is largely anecdotal’ must be a cause for concern given that £400 billion flows through government contracts annually. When the Strategy states that ‘law enforcement partners assess local government as a key sector exposed to corruption risk,’ this appears to reflect professional judgment rather than being based on systematic research.  It is more or less as much as we know at present about corruption ion local government, and in being so clear about the evidence base the government is both being honest about what is currently known and setting an implicit research agenda for what we need to know.

Like in many such documents from governmental and international organisations, the Strategy at times relies on assumptions where, ideally, data should shape policy. Although few experts would quibble with the claim, there is limited empirical support for the statement that corruption ‘makes British people poorer and less safe’. The NCA’s cautiously worded view that ‘it is a realistic possibility that over £100 billion is laundered every year through the UK’ carries a degree of uncertainty, yet has for a number of years underpinned major policy statements and commitments.

Another question mark is over the quality and deployment of evaluation evidence. The Strategy builds on two decades of anti-corruption initiatives, including the Bribery Act 2010 and the establishment of specialised enforcement units. Yet the document does not point to research that systematically assesses what worked well, less well, and why. Did Unexplained Wealth Orders achieve their intended impact? Have Deferred Prosecution Agreements deterred corporate corruption?

Looking forward

However, these are observations rather than criticisms. Other countries have also found such gaps hard to fill, and some have given up at that point. This document has – very commendably – an entire section on Evidence, acknowledges these issues and commits to ‘seek to improve the corruption evidence base, including through the new UK policy definition of corruption.’ Two areas that are rightly picked out for this are the use of beneficial ownership data and the activities of professional enablers.

There cannot be many government strategies in this field across the world that have similar commitments. If delivered, such research could transform our understanding of how corruption operates in modern Britain.

This is also reflected in the promises for future monitoring, evaluation and learning (MEL): a commitment to ‘an initial measurement framework agreed with partners within six months of this strategy being published.’ Although in a perfect world it would have been preferable to have such a framework in place at the outset, this is an opportunity to take a best-practice approach, building on the research the Home Office commissioned on the approaches other countries have taken to MEL.

Conclusion

The Anti-Corruption Strategy 2025 represents a significant step forward for the UK government on evidence use, understanding of data gaps, and commitments to fill the gaps. Where data exist, the document deploys the information skilfully. The collaboration with academic researchers to develop conceptual frameworks, notably on the new definition of corruption and MEL, shows commendable rigour.

However, some gaps inevitably remain: anecdotal evidence substitutes for systematic research in some important areas like procurement and local government corruption; and there is no evaluation of past interventions, which – though unusual – would be a best of class approach.

The test will be whether the government follows through on the Strategy’s commitments to improve data collection and research. Without good evidence, even well-intentioned anti-corruption measures risk missing their mark. Perhaps the UK should be reflecting back into the Strategy the approach that it introduced a decade ago to gathering anti-corruption evidence (ACE) oversees through its ACE Programme. Britain’s fight against corruption deserves to be evidence-led, not just evidence-informed.

Disclaimers: the University of Sussex a) has received funding from both the Home Office and FCDO for some of the research mentioned in this blog; and b) is home to one of the three strands of the ACE Programme.

On 25 November 2025 FIFA decided that one of football’s global superstars, Cristiano Ronaldo, would indeed be allowed to play in all of his country’s games at the 2026 World Cup finals. The decision will no doubt by cheered by Ronaldo’s legion of fans, but it’s also the perfect example of how the Beautiful Game is administered by those for whom integrity means very little at all. The Politics Department’s Dan Hough explains.

Introduction

On 13 November 2025 the Portuguese football team travelled to Dublin to play the Republic of Ireland in a qualifying game in the 2026 World Cup. Portugal were more or less assured of their place at football’s biggest jamboree, but the Republic of Ireland most definitely were not. In order to keep their dreams of qualifying alive they needed to pull off what would be a shock win. And, that they did, winning 2-0 (see here for more on how the game unfolded). They followed that up with an even more dramatic – and no less vital – win in Hungary three days later; Troy Parrott, largely unknown beforehand, scored a hat-trick to send football watchers on the Emerald Isle off into delirium (see here for the goal itself, here for magnificent celebratory scenes at Dublin Airport and here for more from a bar in Toronto where the barman plays a starring role).

With an hour of the game against Portugal gone, The Republic of Ireland were well on the way to gaining that win. That man Parrott had scored both goals as the hosts went two up. Their task of holding on to that lead was further helped by an incident that took place in the 61^st minute. Cristiano Ronaldo launched an elbow at an Irish defender, Dara O’Shea. The video assistant referee had a good look at what had happened and decided that Ronaldo’s behaviour was tantamount to violent conduct. Ronaldo was given a red card and forced to leave the pitch. He also faced a ban from playing in future games.

The length of the ban that a player receives for receiving a red card will vary. If the sending off is for two yellow cards (i.e. two offences, neither of which on their own added up to a red) or for what’s often referred to as a ‘professional foul’ (a bad foul, but not one where violent conduct was involved) then the ban will usually be for one game. If the red card is for dissent then it’ll be two games. If we are talking violent conduct then it’s three games. So, a three game ban for the Portuguese superstar it would be then.

FIFA and Ronaldo’s Red Card

Indeed, FIFA’s own disciplinary code states that red cards for violent conduct should lead to a ban of ‘at least three matches or an appropriate period of time’. There have been cases around the world (see here for example) where bans have been much longer.

Ronaldo was subsequently, and entirely in line with existing protocol, banned for three matches. He was not allowed to play in Portugal’s final qualifying game against Armenia (they hardly missed him; Portugal won 9-1) on 16 November. But, games two and three of the ban were scheduled to be Portugal’s first two games of next summer’s World Cup finals. That was a much bigger deal for Madeira’s finest than missing a dead-rubber against one of the qualifying group’s whipping boys.

Ronaldo appealed against the ban. FIFA, world football’s governing body, decided to follow Article 27 of its own code and reduce the ban to one game (already served) with two more ‘suspended’. They did this as Article 27 allowed them to ‘fully or partially suspend the implementation of a disciplinary measure’ if they so wished. So, despite ‘assault, including elbowing, punching, kicking and biting’ all warranting ‘at least three matches’ in terms of a ban, FIFA were going to take the highly unusual step of declaring that the final two games of the ban were to be in effect offset. If Ronaldo were to transgress again (i.e. defined as getting another red card within the next 12 months) then that two game ban would be activated on top of whatever punishment he received for that dismissal.

The outcome? Ronaldo can play in the World Cup finals. FIFA argued that given it was his first sending off for Portugal his good record should mitigate the punishment. That is particularly noteworthy for two reasons. Firstly, Ronaldo had never previously received a red card for Portugal, but he’s received 12 in club football. A one-off indiscretion from someone with an otherwise unblemished record? Hardly. Secondly, FIFA has shown little inclination at all to offer such mitigation when others have been sent off for similar offences. Did FIFA reduce Wayne Rooney’s ban when he stamped on Ricardo Carvalho in England’s 2006 World Cup game against Portugal? No, Rooney missed England’s next two European Championship qualifying games. And that even though he had never been sent off for England before and indeed had only been sent off twice in club football. Whilst opting to reduce Ronaldo’s punishment may not be completely unprecedented, it was still decidedly unusual and didn’t fit in with much previous precedent.

Talking Integrity

Why does all this matter? Surely allowing one of the world’s most well-known footballers to have a final swansong (Ronaldo is now 41) on the biggest stage is a ‘good thing’? Maybe, although some wags have even made the case that Portugal’s opponents should really be the ones celebrating; if Ronaldo plays Portugal often appear to be a significantly worse side on account of it.

The broader issue is nonetheless more serious (if more abstract) than whether one player can play a few games of football next summer. It is (yet another) example of FIFA, football’s world governing body, bending previous practice to suit its own needs and thereby behaving without anything that could be understood as integrity. FIFA looks like it does what it wants when it wants, regardless of the messages that behaviour may send out. As Sam Wallace noted in the Daily Telegraph, FIFA re-engineers World Cup cycles, tears up the football calendar, brings in bespoke transfer windows to suit its own needs and generally focuses on making as much money as possible from everything.

Complaining about FIFA’s apparently incessant drive to make money and its consistent lack of integrity may come across to some as a soppy idea pushed by wishy-washy do-gooders. Integrity, in other words, is something talked of when things happen that FIFA’s critics don’t like. For others, it’s a cornerstone of what makes things like sport worth doing at all. Integrity, as one of the academic leading lights in this area, Paul Heywood, once said, involves ‘doing the right things’ (principles) ‘for the right reasons’ (morals) and ‘in the right way’ (by following the right process).

Lynne McFall, one of the first in the modern era to really try and operationalise integrity, argued that there are four key parts to trying to make integrity meaningful:

• An individual or an organisation signs up to a set of consistent principles or commitments.
  • The individual or the organisation doesn’t just buy into these principles or commitments theoretically, they uphold them in practice and…
  • … particularly in the face of temptation or challenge.
  • They then stick to them as they believe in them and not because they are in any way compelled to do so.

As I note in my recent book on integrity and football, FIFA is far from slow in telling us how important it thinks upholding the notion of integrity is. FIFA has, for example, set up an integrity department that ‘is in charge of implementing FIFA’s integrity initiative’ and ‘establishing preventive measures to protect FIFA competitions’. It’s also tasked with ‘engaging with various partners in order to expand its integrity network, as well as by assisting the member associations and confederations to develop their own integrity initiatives’. Yet FIFA’s perception of its own integrity challenge sees itself (FIFA) as one of the victims rather than as an organisation where integrity problems may fester.

Furthermore, FIFA has developed a ‘Global Integrity Programme’ and a ‘FIFA Integrity e-Learning Tutorial’. The latter is meant to be an educational tool that helps participants deal with the threat of match-fixing. The former has been developed alongside the United Nations’ Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) and aims to ‘deliver the knowledge and tools needed to prevent and fight match manipulation as well as to promote integrity by setting up successful and sustainable initiatives at the member association level’.

Yet when these principles come head-to-head with commercial interests it is (crystal) clear who wins. The cases of awarding the 2018 and 2022 men’s World Cups to Russia and Qatar are much-cited and oft-analysed examples of the problematic way that FIFA can take decisions and of how many members of FIFA’s executive committee clearly and unequivocally put their own interests – often illegally so – before those of the wider football community. Yet, the focus in FIFA’s material on integrity still remains very much on dealing with the twin scrouges of match fixing and game manipulation. Whilst these are clearly important challenges, it is interesting that there is very little focus on how FIFA itself has dealt with manifold integrity accusations – and indeed convictions – that have come FIFA representatives’ way over the last two decades. FIFA’s modus operandi has long been something that has warranted plenty of critical examination.

Conclusion

So, when Cristiano Ronaldo, a global name with unparalleled commercial power, is needed at a World Cup we should be very far from surprised when FIFA acts to make it happen. If in other words FIFA needs to bend rules to allow him to be there then, well, those rules will indeed be bent.

Yet the very fact that football is such an important part of people’s lives means that all of football’s stakeholders should be obligated to try and make integrity meaningful. That includes making the business of football cleaner. It includes behaving in an appropriate manner. It includes recognising, and dealing with, those who step out of line… no matter who they are. There will always be people who don’t buy into the idea that integrity matters. There will always be those for whom cheating your way to success – whatever success means – will be fine. The challenge is to make their lives harder and to call them out. And that most definitely needs to be done with FIFA.

In this final blog in a 4-part series on Elite Cartels in Tasmania, Robyn A. Lewis¹ and Michael Johnston² draw on experiences elsewhere to suggest potential anti-corruption reforms. 
 

Elite³ Cartels (ECs) operate subtly – often legally and opaquely – contributing to Tasmania’s long, slow decline in economic vitality, politics, civil society, and the environment.  
 
From a corruption standpoint, ECs’ unaccountable networks exclude citizens from life-affecting decisions, via behind-the-scenes collusion, bypassing or distorting public consultation, pursuing narrow governance agendas enabled by weak oversight – a quiet capture of democracy.  

The result is effectively a corruption tax,  lowering incomes, increasing debt, inhibiting growth and innovation, constraining investment, and driving skilled youth outmigration. 

Tasmania offers a cautionary tale regarding one-size-fits-all concepts, metrics and reforms for curbing corruption. ECs’ business-as-usual may not appear corrupt but a stable alignment of politics and private enterprise. But ECs sustain dominance at great community cost, including public disaffection and distrust.  

Addressing Corruption and Governance  

Some Tasmanian corruption is illegal. One remedy is a powerful, well-resourced, completely independent anti-corruption agency (ACA) like Hong Kong’s or NSW’s ICAC. If cost or other challenges seem excessive, Tasmania might recruit NSW ICAC on a subcontracting or consulting basis⁴.  

That ACA should be empowered to initiate and investigate cases, prosecute wrongdoings, provide anti-corruption advice and education, including businesses – which is of increasing importance given the devolution of public-sector functions to private companies and consultants – and allow safe public reporting and feedback. We suggest it not have retrospective powers but be future-focussed, rebuilding good governance and avoiding pitfalls experienced elsewhere. An Inquiry would form a good foundation. 
 
Proper resourcing of Tasmania’s Auditor-General and Ombudsman are also necessary, as are legislated transparency reforms, utilised in Mexico where openness helps counter corruption (Verni, 2025). These must include lobbying oversight. 
 

But because ECs operate sub-surface and often legally, detection, law enforcement and transparency are insufficient. Indeed, if those are the only reforms, ECs’ infrequent bribery scandals may convince some that corruption is negligible, allowing persistent quiet capture. Deeper structural, cultural and institutional weaknesses need addressing, for example public service underfunding, skills erosion, career pathways and training (so corporate memory is built and retained).  

Tasmania needs more inclusive and participatory governance to check ECs’ dominance. Political and economic systems must become more fair, open, and competitive. Integrity and public interest must be at the forefront of all government decisions. Electoral and party-finance reforms should maximize transparency and limit donations. Champions of change and journalists should be supported and protected.  

Yet even multi-party outcomes may not bring needed improvements, and risk perpetuating elite dealmaking. Therefore, meaningful, structured participation in party decision-making is as critical as transparent governance, a robust ACA and a clear, shared vision.  Tasmanians must see that their opinions and political choices matter – not that whoever they choose, the result is the same. Like other democracies grappling with institutional decay, Tasmania must rebuild fundamental social and political trust.  
 
Economic openness is also essential. Competitors to incumbent ECs – particularly experienced investors with the requisite resources, market channels and sustainability expertise, and who can challenge and encourage new dynamism in the Tasmanian economy – must be welcomed.   

Transformation: Pathways and Benchmarks 

Tasmania’s current situation is unsustainable, both locally and nationally. Tasmania is at an economic, social and environmental tipping point. The costs of inaction and continued divisiveness are enormous; some potentially irreversible. Recognising this problem is paramount; successful amelioration requires cross-party commitment (e.g. Laing, 2024).  
 
Conventional reforms are necessary but insufficient. Tasmania needs institutional and cultural transformation, dismantling patronage and secrecy, and promoting integrity, policy deliberation, strategy and future capacity over control, spin and short-termism.  
 
These are not new or unique problems. The Federal Inquiry into the Tasmanian economy (Nixon, 1997) stated Tasmania’s challenges include “extinguishing … wasteful parochialism and polarisation” and overcoming “inertia against taking … actions (by an) entrenched culture … more interested in protecting its patch”. These symptoms of EC corruption persist today, worsened by increased secrecy and reduced media competition. 
 

Recommendations of greater openness are helpful – but, considering the deeply-embedded nature of ECs, how do we know whether measures are implemented, and working? National corruption indices reveal little about deeper processes or trends, nor state-level dynamics. To track progress toward openness and inclusion, Tasmania needs verifiable indicators reflecting the ways ECs operate and any trends toward improvement. There is no corruption index for Tasmania and the last corruption survey conducted by the Integrity Commission was in 2017 (Jamrozik). 

Sectoral analyses in areas like infrastructure, natural resources, health, and education can be particularly useful in revealing failures and offering structural reform opportunities (Pyman and Heywood, 2024). ECs dominate individual sectors in different ways; thus, reforms must be targeted, actionable, manageable and measurable. While EC deal-making is often obscure, there are precedents for promising reforms (Pyman, 2021). There is immediate ‘fiscal space’ in Tasmania’s budget process which could be addressed using existing financial data.  

A Sectoral Example: Infrastructure 

The infrastructure sector is globally vulnerable to corruption due to its scale and large payoffs (Matthews, 2016). Tasmania allocates a significant percentage of spending to infrastructure, with a ten-year ‘pipeline’.  
 
Risks arise at every stage: project selection, design, contracting, procurement and delivery (IBAC, 2024; Pyman, 2021). Inadequate oversight and the influence of entrenched bidders perpetuate vulnerabilities.  

Observable indicators can be designed to assess reforms’ effectiveness. Red flags might, for example, include rubber stamp approvals, costs significantly exceeding national standards, or repeated benefits to favoured areas.  
 

Similar proxy indicators could be developed for other sectors. 

There is no ‘silver bullet’ nor cargo-cult ‘silver bird’ 
 

Reform is complex, requiring sustained effort, likely generating resistance and potentially triggering defensive consolidation. Some challenges, especially environmental, are wicked, lacking simple solutions.  

Reforms must move beyond compliance checklists and revamped ethics guidelines. At both state and local levels, appointments – including Boards – must be merit-based. Fair-play rules – hearings, consultation, transparency – must be seen to be enforced. To resist EC capture, Parliamentary committees require strengthening, and regulatory autonomy assured. Citizens, NGOs, and the media must highlight the ECs behind business-as-usual, and their costs to Tasmania’s public services, environment and brand. Public interest must be paramount. 
 
There are also wider implications if rules are selectively applied or circumvented and citizens see connections overriding fairness and merit: trust in specific projects and broader governance is degraded. 

Strengthening Governance Strengthens Tasmania 

 
Checking EC power has more than budgetary and investment rewards, including political legitimacy for effective leaders, economic advantages for successful contractors, professional standing for capable managers, improved planning and greater public voice. In place of abstract calls for good government, our proposed reforms emphasize measurable public benefits. 

Willpower, persistence and adaptation are required. Outcomes must be demonstrable and communicated. Building NSW’s anti-corruption strength took decades – another reason Tasmania should leverage NSW’s experience, combined with deep sectoral knowledge plus local understanding of how Tasmanians view their state and lives.  

Acknowledging the Issue is Essential 

Above all, Tasmanians must understand what ECs are and do. The fundamental issue facing Tasmania is corruption and associated failures in due process, not NIMBYism, over-regulation or pathological dissent. If Tasmania were a country, its score on the Corruption Perceptions Index would likely place it alongside Malta, Bulgaria or Jordan (Laing, 2020). UN anti-corruption assistance would be justifiable. 
 
The question is: do Tasmanians want to restore public integrity and trust, reduce their ‘corruption tax’, reinvest wasted billions into public services and facilities, and return to surplus – or not? 

It can be done. Like Estonia (OECD, 2024), Tasmania could become an unexpected reform leader by choosing to dismantle Elite Cartel corruption and restore democratic integrity now. 

References:  

IBAC Victoria (2024) Corruption and misconduct risks in the construction and manufacturing sector, IBAC. Available at: https://www.ibac.vic.gov.au/corruption-and-misconduct-risks-in-construction-and-manufacturing (Accessed: 21 June 2025). 
 

Jamrozik, P. (2017) ‘Integrity Commission – Community Perceptions Survey 2017 – Research Report’, Research Report, p. 29. Available at: https://integrity.tas.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0010/728596/integrity-Commission-community-perceptions-survey-2017-report.PDF  
 
Laing, A. (2020) How Corruption Works in the Public Sector—One Easy Lesson, PFM. Available at: https://blog-pfm.imf.org/en/pfmblog/2020/03/how-corruption-works-in-the-public-sectorone-easy-lesson (Accessed: 13 July 2025). 

Laing, A. (2024) Curbing Corruption Through the Budget Process. Academic. Dublin, Ireland: Dublin City University, p. 61. Available at: http://rgdoi.net/10.13140/RG.2.2.25577.31844 (Accessed: 21 June 2025). 

Matthews, P. (2016) Why is the construction industry so corrupt and what can we do about it?, World Economic Forum. Available at: https://www.weforum.org/stories/2016/02/why-is-the-construction-industry-so-corrupt-and-what-can-we-do-about-it/ (Accessed: June 21, 2025). 

OECD (2024) Anti-Corruption and Integrity Outlook 2024 – Country Notes: Estonia, OECD. Available at: https://www.oecd.org/en/publications/anti-corruption-and-integrity-outlook-2024-country-notes_684a5510-en/estonia_a1df0c2f-en.html (Accessed: 14 July 2025). 

Pyman, M. (2021) “Curbing corruption in Construction, Public Works, and Infrastructure.” CurbingCorruption.com. Available at: https://curbingcorruption.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/210618-Curbing-Corruption-in-Construction.pdf. 

Pyman, M. and Heywood, P.M. (2024) Sector-Based Action Against Corruption: A Guide for Organisations and Professionals. Cham: Springer Nature Switzerland (Political Corruption and Governance). Available at: https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-59336-9. 

 
Nixon, P. (1997) The Nixon Report: Tasmania into the 21st century. Report to the Prime Minister of Australia and the Premier of Tasmania. Government. Hobart, Tasmania: Commonwealth of Australia, p. 346. Available at: https://catalogue.nla.gov.au/catalog/1597669 (Accessed: 9 July 2025). 

Verni, Z. (2025) Lessons from Mexico’s Public Information Reforms | The Regulatory Review, The Regulatory Review. Available at: https://www.theregreview.org/2025/06/19/verni-lessons-from-mexicos-public-information-reforms/ (Accessed: 21 June 2025). 

¹ Robyn Lewis is an MA student in Corruption and Governance, Centre for the Study of Corruption, University of Sussex, UK.

² Michael Johnston is the Charles A. Dana Professor of Political Science Emeritus at Colgate University, in Hamilton, New York, USA. They are currently co-authoring a chapter for the Edward Elgar Research Handbook on Corruption and the Environment (2026), on environmental corruption in Tasmania.

³ We define elite in this context as “groups of individuals who hold disproportionate amount of wealth and/or power, who participate in, or have influence or access to, decision processes affecting the public”

⁴ As provided by NSW ICAC in the Pacific region and their regional outreach within Australia.

Professor Robert Barrington explores the implications of using anti-terrorist laws against Palestine Action, arguing that civil society plays a key role in the UK’s anti-corruption architecture and applying such laws to campaigners can set a dangerous precedent which a future government could abuse to silence its critics and cover up corruption.

I have no idea whether Palestine Action (PA) is a terrorist organisation.  I do know that it has been designated as such by the UK government.  There may be unpublished intelligence that suggests PA may be planning to hurt or kill civilians.  They have not done this to date, and the information that is in the public domain suggests this is not their intent.

Critics of the designation point out the difference between direct action in protesting, which governments tend not to like, and terrorism, which most people understand to mean using violence against civilians for ideological or political ends.

At face value, we can see that breaking into a military base is a bad thing, especially if done by terrorists.  By the same logic, breaking into a weapons-manufacturing site risks damaging our national security and – if it were carried out by terrorists – reducing our capability to fight back or putting weapons into the wrong hands.

Those who carry out direct action – whether over Palestine or climate change or any other cause – often claim that other courses of action are not working.  They need something eye-catching.  They are being disruptive, but are not being destructive.  They may be a pain in the neck – think of the eco-warriors closing the M25 – but are they terrorists? They certainly do not believe themselves to be terrorists in any widely-understood sense.  They are clearly law-breakers – and there are a number of laws under which they could be prosecuted without applying anti-terrorism laws.

But in the eyes of the law, in the UK, PA can be labelled as terrorists.  Under the Terrorism Act 2000 this applies if they plan or carry out ‘serious damage to property’ if that is ‘designed to influence the government, or an international governmental organisation or to intimidate the public’ and when that is ‘for the purpose of advancing a political, religious, racial or ideological cause.’ This applies not just to the ‘terrorists’ themselves, but to anyone expressing support for PA – via a tweet, a cardboard placard or any other means.

The PA designation gives us a glimpse of the extraordinary powers that governments have to control their citizens, often using arguments that are convenient or expedient.  Of course, this is complicated.  If right wing thugs were designated as terrorists, many of those who deplore the designation of PA might instead be applauding.

But all of this will make anti-corruption campaigners uneasy. 

A strong theme in the literature on corruption ( for example, Johnston 2005, Grimes 2013, Mungiu-Pippidi 2013, Villaneuva 2019, Barrington & David-Barrett 2023) is the role played by civil society in holding those in power to account – through research, investigations, disseminating information, public education, and protest.  David-Barrett describes how ‘Civil society organisations perform a watchdog role over government, and those specializing in anti-corruption work often have considerable technical expertise to compile and communicate evidence about corrupt practices’ (David-Barrett 2023).

We may feel that the current Labour government is a long way from applying its anti-terrorist powers to anti-corruption organisations.  However, other countries have been doing so.  In Turkey, for example, anti-terrorism laws have been used to silence academics who have criticised the Erdogan government (Baser et al 2017).  Barely a year ago, most people might have said that western liberal democracies are a long way from being like Turkey.  Since then, elections have been dominated by a wave of right-wing populists, and the Trump administration in the USA has shown how no democracy or constitutional settlement is immune from those who wish to use the powers of the state to attack or take revenge on their perceived enemies.

The Johnson government gave the UK a glimpse of what it is to be led by a Prime Minister and cabinet who are happy to drive a coach and horses through norms and principles for the sake of political expediency, self-interest and ideology.  It looked very like corruption.  In opposition (though not so far in government), Keir Starmer rightly highlighted the risk of corruption if proper checks and balances are not in place.  The same applies to anti-terrorism laws.  If the Starmer government can use them to target Palestine Action, a corrupt government  could use such laws to neutralise anti-corruption campaigners.   Don’t believe it could not happen in the UK – look across the Atlantic, and think of where Johnson or Truss might have taken us.

Regarding PA, based on the facts that are in the public domain, it is hard to disagree with the UN Human Rights chief Volker Turk, who said ‘The decision appears disproportionate and unnecessary.’  It looks like a complete nonsense to have designated Palestine Action as a terrorist organisation even if that is legally possible, however challenging or annoying they might be to those in power.  And this is the key point: the PA case shows us that a government can take, fully within the law, draconian action against ordinary people trying to protest.  

Precisely because this is an emotive issue, it is easy to overlook the points of principle that are most troubling here.  What we are seeing on display is the extent of government power and the ways in which it can be deployed against protestors.  If PA are terrorists in any conventional sense, then evidence should be put in the public domain.  If the problem is trespass or criminal damage, other laws are available to prosecute them.  If they continue to be branded as terrorists, what is PA today may tomorrow be any other civil society group that irritates the government of the day and can be labelled a threat to national security.

Given the era of populism and political instability that we are now in, we should be taking the next few years to future-proof the UK against corruption, rather than normalising government actions which may come back to haunt us.

References

Barrington, Robert, and Elizabeth David-Barrett. “Advocacy groups.” In Elgar Concise Encyclopedia of Corruption Law, pp. 12-15. Edward Elgar Publishing, 2023.

Baser, Bahar, Samim Akgönül, and Ahmet Erdi Öztürk. ““Academics for Peace” in Turkey: A case of criminalising dissent and critical thought via counterterrorism policy.” Critical Studies on Terrorism 10, no. 2 (2017): 274-296.

Dávid-Barrett, Elizabeth. “State capture and development: a conceptual framework.” Journal of international relations and development, 1-21. 23 March 2023.

Grimes, Marcia. “The contingencies of societal accountability: Examining the link between civil society and good government.” Studies in comparative international development 48, no. 4 (2013): 380-402.

Johnston, Michael, ed. Civil society and corruption: mobilizing for reform. University Press of America, 2005.

Mungiu-Pippidi, Alina. “Controlling corruption through collective action.” Journal of Democracy 24, no. 1 (2013): 101-115.

Villanueva, Prince Aian G. “Why Civil Society Cannot Battle It All Alone: The Roles of Civil Society Environment, Transparent Laws and Quality of Public Administration in Political Corruption Mitigation.” International Journal of Public Administration 43, no. 6 (2019): 552–61.

Robyn A. Lewis[1]
Michael Johnston[2]

Australia’s island state Tasmania faces another cluster of economic, social and environmental crises. Despite intermittent growth, Tasmania remains Australia’s poorest, least dynamic state. In 2023-24, GSP[3] per capita was A$70,679, 73% of Australia’s per capita GDP (DTF, 2024). Tasmania’s  projected debt position is A$13billion (DTF, 2025a) largely accrued since 2020 (Eslake, 2025b).

Other structural problems have re-emerged. In 2022-23, 15,222 people^[4] left Tasmania – up 24% in a decade – a net interstate loss of 3271 (ABS, 2025; Denny, 2024b). Tasmania’s “brain drain” persists:  in 2021, 34% of emigrating 20-30-year-olds had degrees, versus 17% remaining (ABS, 2022), 61% of whom report being overqualified or unemployed. Tasmania’s population is ageing, with low literacy rates (Equity Economics, 2023). Innovation suffers; in 2022-23 ‘innovation-active’ Tasmanian businesses ranked last (38.7%),^[5]  lagging Australia’s average 45.7% (DISR, 2024).

These issues are not new. Fundamental causes identified in five major Inquiries from Lockyer (1926) to Nixon (1997) – including “poor design of … Tasmanian institutions” (Rae, 2002) – remain largely unaddressed. In our previous posts we outlined Tasmania’s Elite Cartels  (ECs) corruption syndrome (Johnston, 2005; 2014). EC corruption revolves around collusive networks of elites[6] – e.g. business, news media, political leaders – forming strong informal alliances to maintain their own economic and political advantages, operating by sector, marginalising competitors and broader social interests. Despite little overt bribery, ECs are corrupt because they exclude citizens from democratic processes and decisions affecting their lives (Warren, 2004).

However, corruption’s impact on Tasmania’s socio-economic situation[7] has never been quantified. Corruption is costly, globally – including in Australia (Moore, 2023) – but estimates are imprecise; most is secretive, and corruption’s boundaries remain undefined.  The UN Secretary-General stated in 2018 that the global cost of corruption is at least 5% of global GDP annually[8], of which bribery alone is estimated at 2% (UNODC, 2023), although statistics are contested (Wathne and Stephenson, 2021).  The few attempts to quantify the cost of corruption in Australia have encountered similar methodological issues, but in 2018 estimated the cost at 4% of GDP, since revised upwards (Laing, 2023; Smith, 2024).

Many EC corruption processes are informal, opaque, legal – or not clearly illegal – and thus even harder to quantify and easy to overlook.  Direct measurement would require distinguishing between legal, grey-zone[9] and normal private-sector activities, made more difficult by increasing delegation to consultancies (Mazzucato and Collington, 2023) and by ECs blurring public and private sector boundaries (Johnston, 2005, Ch.5; 2014, Ch.6).

As shown previously, many cases are things that do not happen: public consultations avoided, competitors not entering economic or political arenas, broadly beneficial legislation never enacted. But their costs are real, and substantial. Any monetary estimate would likely be low, because the costs are broader, deeper, long-term, and include lost opportunities.

Whatever the amount, Tasmanians pay a ‘corruption tax’ via reduced prosperity and poorer services and facilities. Indeed, in some countries chronically underfunded health and education are indicators of corruption (Gupta et.al., 2001). Average households and front-line service providers feel the pain daily.

Elite Cartels and Stagnation

We cannot attribute all Tasmania’s problems to EC corruption. Geographically, Tasmania is small and isolated; employment options are limited, and external opportunities – including training, careers, higher incomes – are enticing. Many current industries are resource-exploitative, posing threats to the state’s natural environment. Some sectors lag in technology and expertise, including management (Skills Tasmania, 2024).

Such reduced innovation, socio-economic stagnation and the activities of Tasmania’s ECs are tightly interrelated. Dominant interests protect existing advantages, skew policy, and attempt to minimise scrutiny and adverse regulation (Nixon, 1997), while portraying their schemes as Tasmania’s only short-term opportunities[10]. Such inverse correlations between economic growth and levels of corruption have also been demonstrated in the USA (Dincer and Johnston, 2025). In Tasmania, the lure of “cargo-cult” developments – single, large, exogenous ‘silver bird’ industries hoped to transform the economy[11] (McCall, 2011) – is historically close to the EC agenda (Gale, 2013).

The political logic of protecting existing hegemonies is similar. In both the economic and political arenas new competitors and innovators are resisted. Youth emigration harms families and businesses but having potential advocates of change ‘take the exit option’ (Hirschman, 1970) may politically advantage ECs. And just as a stagnating economic and political situation can be conducive to EC dominance, their influence, inertia, and closed-off style of decision-making can preserve the status quo.

The result is a situation that may seem sustainable but produces a long, gradual, self-perpetuating decline in which corruption is not just a cause of economic stagnation, but a symptom of complacency – difficult to change because it serves and protects those whose interests and relationships prevail.

Indirect Impacts and Inequality

The full picture is worse: less-affluent citizens and communities have fewer economic opportunities and alternatives and are likely more dependent upon impacted public services. Moreover, corruption distorts government priorities towards big-ticket projects (e.g. infrastructure) – where corruption is easily concealed and enormously lucrative (up to 30-50% of project costs internationally; OECD, 2024) – at the expense of public health and education, where illicit profits are smaller and accrue more slowly (Mauro et.al., 2019). Unlike taxes, the benefits flow to the connected – not chosen democratically or on merit – while costs, including environmental, are socialised.

Less obvious costs include diminished capacity to recognise and respond to statewide problems, declining accountability and transparency, and prevailing frustration and demoralisation stemming from public resignation.

The big unknown regarding any claim about corruption’s effects is: what would have happened without it? That is particularly difficult in examining ECs, whose deals in old-boys’ clubs, corporate boxes and 19^th-holes are generally legal – if inaccessible – and self-perpetuating. They appear as ‘business as usual’ because they are, since the 1960s at least (Eldridge, 1972). Like illiteracy, Tasmania’s EC corruption is inter-generational.

Tasmania without the ‘MONA effect’

ECs can wield their influence, and do their damage, in surprising ways. One impactful case is Tasmania’s Museum of Old and New Art^[12], which re-energised Tasmania (Franklin, 2017). MONA’s initial estimated economic benefits in 2011/12 were $54 million (Ryan, 2015) plus multiplier effects, rising to $134.5 million by 2017/18; despite COVID they are back on track.  Yet it was nearly sabotaged. In 1998, entrepreneur David Walsh planned MONA’s pilot trial Museum of Antiquities. But minutes before the permit deadline, an objection was lodged on the claim the heritage waterfront house contained Tasmania’s first ensuite bathroom.

However, the objector had not seen the bathroom. Challenged at an official meeting, the objection was withdrawn.[13] Whistleblowers later revealed associates’ plans to privately acquire the site for retirement units. Had EC cronyism prevailed, Tasmania’s loss would have been enormous: MONA transformed Tasmania’s tourism and arts industries, brand reputation and cultural identity. Tasmania without MONA and the employment, businesses, confidence and other benefits generated is almost unimaginable.

MONA provides a global example of the benefits of opposing corruption. How many other Tasmanian ideas, opportunities and transformative projects have been stymied by ECs and their vested- or conflicts of interest, including local government connections? We will never know. But we can imagine Tasmania without these corrosive influences: where innovation and opportunity thrives for all, not just the few, young people can settle and build careers, and public services are robust and accountable.

From Understanding to Reform 

The Elite Cartels syndrome offers a subtler – but in Tasmania, more realistic – understanding of corruption than the dramatic, bribery-intensive, black-bag scenarios historically associated with the term corruption.  It is about who never ‘gets in the room’. Addressing EC corruption is not just a matter of new laws and administrative arrangements. Rather, fundamental justice, transparency, accountability, economic openness, and democratic reinvigoration are needed to create a better, sustainable future for all. Our next instalment explores some effective responses.

References:

ABS (2024a) Australian National Accounts: State Accounts, 2023-24 financial year. Australian Bureau of Statistics. Available at: https://www.abs.gov.au/statistics/economy/national-accounts/australian-national-accounts-state-accounts/latest-release (Accessed: 13 May 2025).

ABS (2024b) Personal Income in Australia, 2021-22 financial year. Australian Bureau of Statistics. Available at: https://www.abs.gov.au/statistics/labour/earnings-and-working-conditions/personal-income-australia/latest-release (Accessed: 13 May 2025).

ABS (2025) National, state and territory population, September 2024 | Australian Bureau of Statistics, Australian Bureau of Statistics. Available at: https://www.abs.gov.au/statistics/people/population/national-state-and-territory-population/latest-release (Accessed: 9 May 2025).

Denny, L. (2024a) Leaving Tasmania Report – Tasmanian Times, Tasmania Times. Available at: https://tasmaniantimes.com/2024/03/leaving-tasmania/ (Accessed: 9 May 2025).

Denny, L. (2024b) ‘Population Change in Tasmania: back to the future?’, InSummary, 14 June. Available at: https://lisadenny.substack.com/p/population-change-in-tasmania-back (Accessed: 9 May 2025).

Dincer, O. and Johnston, M. (2025) Corruption in America A Fifty-Ring Circus. 1st edn. Cambridge UK: Cambridge University Press. Available at: https://www-cambridge-org.sussex.idm.oclc.org/core/books/corruption-in-america/7838277A0FC1DF353696F1CCAC57600D (Accessed: 2 May 2025).

DISR (2024) Innovation outcomes | Australian Innovation Statistics | Department of Industry Science and Resources, https://www.industry.gov.au/node/93968. Available at: https://www.industry.gov.au/publications/australian-innovation-statistics/innovation-outcomes (Accessed: 9 May 2025).

DTF (2024) AUSTRALIAN NATIONAL ACCOUNTS: STATE ACCOUNTS, ABS CAT NO 5220.0: TABLE 15, Department of Treasury and Finance, Tasmania. Available at: https://www.treasury.tas.gov.au/Documents/State-Accounts.pdf.

DTF (2025a) 2024-25 Revised Estimates Reports (including December Quarterly Reports) | Treasury and Finance Tasmania, Department of Treasury and Finance, Tasmania. Available at: https://www.treasury.tas.gov.au/budget-and-financial-management/financial-reports/revised-estimates-reports-(including-december-quarterly-reports) (Accessed: 16 May 2025).

DTF (2025b) Treasury and Finance Tasmania, Department of Treasury and Finance, Tasmania. Available at: https://www.treasury.tas.gov.au/ (Accessed: 13 May 2025).

Eldridge, S. (1972) ‘Damania. The Hydro-Electric Commission, The Environment & Government in Tasmania. by JONES, RICHARD; Editor.’, in Damania. Hobart, Tasmania: Fullers Publishing, pp. 1–4. Available at: https://www.abebooks.com/Damania-Hydro-Electric-Commission-Environment-Government-Tasmania/30453635078/bd (Accessed: 16 May 2025).

Equity Economics (2023) Saving Money by Spending: Solving Illiteracy in Australia. Sydney NSW: Equity Economics, p. 63. Available at: https://www.equityeconomics.com.au/report-archive/saving-money-by-spending-solving-illiteracy-in-australia (Accessed: 18 May 2025).

Eslake, S. (2025b) Tasmania’s Financial Woes – Presentation to U3A Hobart, U3A. Available at: https://www.u3ahobart.org.au/course-resources/ (Accessed: 16 May 2025).

Franklin, A. (2017) ‘Creative exchanges between public and private: the case of MONA (The Museum of Old and New Art) and the city of Hobart’, in. V Congresso Internacional Cidades Criativas, Janeiro, Portugal: University of Tasmania, p. 11. Available at: https://hdl.handle.net/102.100.100/523776.

Gale, F. (2013) ‘When interests trump institutions: Tasmania’s forest policy network and the Bell Bay pulp mill’, Environmental Politics, 22(2), pp. 274–292. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/09644016.2012.683150

Gupta, S., Davoodi, H. and Tiongson, E. (2001) ‘Corruption and the provision of health care and education services’, in The Political Economy of Corruption. 1st ed. London, UK.: Routledge, p. 240. Available at: https://www.taylorfrancis.com/chapters/edit/10.4324/9780203468388-13/corruption-provision-health-care-education-services-sanjeev-gupta-hamid-davoodi-erwin-tiongson.

Hirschmann, A.O. (1972) Exit, Voice, and Loyalty. 1st ed. Boston, USA.: Harvard University Press. Available at: https://www.hup.harvard.edu/books/9780674276604 (Accessed: 9 May 2025).

JANAR (2024) 35th Virtual Roundtable on Measuring Corruption, ft. Andrew Laing. Osaka, Japan Roundtable on Measuring Corruption. Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qh0sxn56cc (Accessed: 18 May 2025).

Johnston, M. (2005) ‘Elite Cartels: how to buy friends and govern people’, in Syndromes of Corruption: Wealth, Power, and Democracy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 89–119. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9780511490965.006.

Johnston, M. (2014) ‘Elite Cartels: Hanging on with a little help from my friends’, in Corruption, Contention and Reform: The Power of Deep Democratization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 151-185. Available at:  https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139540957.007.

Laing, A. and Anon. (2023) ‘Costing Corruption and Other Efficiency Losses’, Artificial Fiscal Intelligence, 31 March. Available at: https://artificialfiscalintelligence.com/afi_home/costing-corruption/ (Accessed: 5 December 2024).

Lessig, L. (2013) ‘“Institutional Corruption” Defined’, Journal of Law, Medicine & Ethics, 41(3), pp. 553–555. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1111/jlme.12063.

Lockyer, N. (1926) Inquiry into the Financial Position of Tasmania. 1st edn. Hobart, Tasmania. Available at: http://berkelouw.com.au/rare-book/lockyer-s-report-on-tasmania-s-claim-reprinted-from-the/158643/buy-online (Accessed: 10 July 2025).

Mauro, P., Medas, P. and Fournier, J.M. (2019) The True Cost of Global Corruption – IMF F&D, IMF. Available at: https://www.imf.org/en/Publications/fandd/issues/2019/09/the-true-cost-of-global-corruption-mauro (Accessed: 8 May 2025).

Mazzucato, M. and Collington, R. (2023) The Big Con – How the Consulting Industry Weakens our Businesses, Infantilizes our Governments and Warps our Economies. 1ed edn. UK: Penguin Books. Available at: https://marianamazzucato.com/books/the-big-con/UK/ (Accessed: 25 April 2025).

McCall, T. (2011) ‘Tasmania’s Development as Cargo Cultism: A Political Historical Perspective’, in Pulp Friction in Tasmania. 1st edn. Launceston, Tasmania: Pencil Pine Press, pp. 18–36.

Moore, C. (2023) The invisible hand of ‘legal’ corruption costs every Australian, Michael West Media. Available at: https://michaelwest.com.au/the-invisible-hand-of-legal-corruption-costs-every-australian  (Accessed: 8 May 2025).

Nixon, P. (1997) The Nixon Report: Tasmania into the 21st century. Report to the Prime Minister of Australia and the Premier of Tasmania. Government. Hobart, Tasmania: Commonwealth of Australia, p. 346. Available at: https://catalogue.nla.gov.au/catalog/1597669 (Accessed: 9 July 2025).

OECD (2024) Infrastructure anti-corruption toolbox, OECD. Available at: https://www.oecd.org/en/about/projects/infrastructure-anti-corruption.html (Accessed: 9 May 2025).

Rae, J. (2002a) ‘Tasmania’s No Tiger, But Why?’, Institute of Public Affairs, (IPA Review), pp. 11–13. Available at: https://ipa.org.au/wp-content/uploads/archive/Review54-3%20Tasmanias%20no%20tiger.pdf (Accessed: 10 July 2025).

Ryan, L. (2015) ‘Re-branding Tasmania: MONA and the altering of local reputation and identity’, Tourist Studies, 16(4), pp. 422–445. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1177/1468797615618097.

Skills Tasmania (2024) Tasmanian Skills Plan | Tasmanian Government, Skills Tasmania. Available at: https://www.skills.tas.gov.au/strategic-documents-and-policies/skills_tasmania_skills_plan  (Accessed: 8 July 2025).

Smith, R. (2024) Estimating the costs of serious and organised crime in Australia, 2022–23. Australian Institute of Criminology. Available at: https://doi.org/10.52922/sr77796

Thompson, D.F. (2018) ‘Theories of Institutional Corruption’, Annual Review of Political Science, 21, pp. 495–513. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-polisci-120117-110316.

Warren, Mark. (2004) ‘What Does Corruption Mean in a Democracy?’ American Journal of Political Science, 48, pp. 328-343. Available at: https://doi.org/10.2307/1519886.

UNODC (2023) UNODC publications, United Nations : Office on Drugs and Crime. Available at: https://www.unodc.org/corruption/uploads/documents/Corruption_sustainable_development_C.pdf  (Accessed: 23 April 2025).

Warren, M.E. (2004) ‘What Does Corruption Mean in a Democracy?’, American Journal of Political Science, 48(2), pp. 328–343. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1111/j.0092-5853.2004.00073.x.

Wathne, C. and Stephenson, M.C. (2021) The credibility of corruption statistics – A critical review of ten global estimates. Academic U4 Issue 2021:4. Norway: CMI (Chr. Michelson Institute), p. 48. Available at: https://www.corruptionwatch.org.za/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/the-credibility-of-corruption-statistics.pdf (Accessed: 1 April 2025).

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[1] Robyn Lewis is an MA student in Corruption and Governance, Centre for the Study of Corruption, University of Sussex, UK.

[2] Michael Johnston is the Charles A. Dana Professor of Political Science Emeritus at Colgate University, in Hamilton, New York, USA.

[3] Gross State Product, which in 2024 was A$41.6 billion p.a. 5% equates to approximately $2.1 billion p.a.

[4] Of a population of approximately 540,000 (ABS, 2024b)

[5] “An innovation-active firm develops or implements new or improved products or processes” (DISR, 2024).

[6] Which we define in this context as “groups of individuals who hold disproportionate amount of wealth and/or power, who participate in, or have influence or access to, decision processes affecting the public”.

[7] Described for decades as “the Tasmanian problem” (Rae, 2022)

[8] Not including environmental or other secondary impacts.

[9] Corrupt but legal, in Tasmania’s case often because legislation is severely outdated, due in some

sectors to state capture.

[10] Sometimes correctly, given the related lack of vision and/or lack of commitment to targeted, long-term intergenerational productive infrastructure (e.g. Forrest, 2017)

[11] e.g. pulpmills, stadia, AI centres, windfarms 

[12] MONA, located at Berriedale, a suburb of Hobart, the capital of Tasmania. See https://mona.net.au/

[13] One of the authors (R.A.Lewis) was the Project Manager and successfully challenged the objector.

Professor Robert Barrington reflects on the UK government’s plans for the upcoming Lammy Summit, drawing on past examples to consider what the initiative might signal about current efforts to address corruption and illicit finance.

Foreign Secretary David Lammy announced in May 2024 that if he were to be elected, he would be ‘hosting a summit of allies and international financial centres to launch a sustained initiative to tackle dirty money.  Driving a powerful agenda on tackling corruption and money laundering.’

This theme made it into the Labour Party manifesto: ‘Labour will also work with our allies and international financial centres to tackle corruption and money laundering, including in Britain, Crown Dependencies, and in British Overseas Territories.’

In November 2024, he launched ‘the start of a new campaign by the Foreign Secretary to clamp down on corruption and illicit finance.’  And in June 2025, it was finally confirmed that the Summit promised in opposition would take place: ‘I can announce today that London will host a Countering Illicit Finance Summit bringing together a broad coalition for action.  I will never allow London mansions to be the bitcoin of kleptocrats. We will expose them. We will punish them. And drive them out of our city.’

The sharp-eyed reader will notice that the ambition to tackle ‘corruption’ appeared in the first three statements, but not the Summit announcement.  Between May 2024 and June 2025 the Summit’s ambition seems to have changed from ‘Driving a powerful agenda on tackling corruption and money laundering’ to ‘Countering Illicit Finance.’

There is sufficient vagueness in these terms (if in doubt, have a look at the Dictionary of Corruption) that there may have been no change in scope or ambition.  We do not yet know.  But anti-corruption experts are already feeling that the Labour government has form in backing off anti-corruption promises and giving in to vested interests.  It took months to appoint an Anti-Corruption Champion.  The national Anti-Corruption Strategy has still not been published, a year after taking office.  There is no sign of the manifesto pledge to create an Ethics & Integrity Commission to control corruption in politics.  And most telling of all, the ‘Covid Corruption Commissioner’ (also in the manifesto)  was downgraded to a part-time, one year post looking for fraud, while steering away from the more controversial territory of corruption.

All this brings into question what Mr Lammy’s Countering Illicit Finance Summit will actually be about.  It could be about subjects like the use of crypto-currencies by organised crime or the role of gold as a safe haven for criminal assets.  Those subjects are important, but in the context of Lammy’s stated ambition to address corruption and kleptocracy, they are essentially unambitious and peripheral.   A narrow and unambitious approach would have echoes of the Covid Corruption Commissioner – the Foreign Secretary perhaps seeing his wings clipped by other departments who have yet to be persuaded by his vision.

What might an ambitious approach look like?  We do not have to look far for an example.  The Cameron-sponsored global Anti-Corruption Summit held in London in 2016 was a high water mark in the UK’s leadership in the field, and powered a series of successful initiatives that are still bearing fruit both globally and in the UK, including beneficial ownership transparency, open contracting, the UK’s overseas property register, the IACCC,the UK’s first anti-corruption strategy and legislation to introduce unexplained wealth orders.  It gave a boost to international action, such as the anti-corruption strategy at the IMF.  Participating countries were offered a wide range of options from which they could select their own commitments, which were annexed to the more generic summit communique. The ideas were crowdsourced from around the world, with civil society playing a central role.

Some of the civil servants involved did not like this much.  The ambition was felt to be overwhelming, and it was only strong leadership from No10 that pushed things through.  But the ambition, combined with practical initiatives, was precisely what marked out the 2016 Summit from the formal processes like UNCAC that had been consistently failing to deliver progress.

Winding forward to the Lammy Summit, there are plenty of ambitious ideas in circulation: from wholesale FATF reform and adapting US/Italian anti-mafia laws to tackle kleptocracy, to making big progress on ‘professional enablers’ and introducing a transparency levy.

The FCDO will have lots of questions to grapple with: who will be invited, how should the Summit’s purpose be described, how will it mesh with other international processes, and how can other parts of HMG be brought on board?  Central to these are the question of ambition.  Will the Summit will move the dial on corruption and kleptocracy?  It can be done – that’s exactly why such Summits are held.  Lessons learned from elsewhere suggest that leadership, ambition and genuine involvement of key external stakeholders are three critical success factors.  The slightly surprising successes of the G20 Anti-Corruption Working Group provide another example of what can sometimes be achieved.

It is also worth remembering that one key aspect of the 2016 Summit was the theme of the UK getting its own house in order if it were to have the credibility to talk on these matters to the rest of the world.  For the Lammy Summit, that does not just mean the City and the UK’s burgeoning network of ‘professional enablers’ – it means finally taking the action that is necessary to stop the Overseas Territories and Crown Dependencies being a huge loophole in the global financial system.

Expectations have been raised, but the Summit is a bit of a gamble for Mr Lammy.  It could demonstrate global leadership and make a genuine contribution to his campaign ‘to clamp down on corruption and illicit finance.’  Or it could be unambitious, too niche to dent the overall problem, and quietly (or at worst noisily) denigrated by civil society campaigners across the world.  The selection of Summit themes will be a clear signal as to where this is heading.

In this second post on Tasmania, Robyn A. Lewis[1] and Professor Michael Johnston[2] examine corruption in Australia’s smallest state through the lens of the Elite Cartel syndrome, highlighting its sources and continued dominance.

Our previous post illustrates how Tasmania exemplifies the Elite Cartels (ECs) syndrome (Johnston, 2014)[3]: close-knit, collusive elite networks that perpetuate a distribution of public power and resources skewed in their favour. ECs provide an environment in which corruption can thrive and are an intrinsically corrupt way of organising a political economy.

EC dominance has a long history in Tasmania. The “Apple Isle” is small and somewhat insular and parochial. While universal adult suffrage began in 1903, today’s ECs’ predecessors evolved in the 1850s (Perry, 2001). Networking elites in business, government and the economy may not have set out to create corrupt schemes, but over time their convenient, self-serving alliances led to distinctive forms of corruption – an Elite Cartel syndrome, similar to Lessig’s Institutional Corruption (2013)^[4] featuring actions and inactions serving dominant interests, yet rarely breaking laws^[5].

EC influence raises a larger question: Australia is a prosperous modern democracy with relatively competitive parties and free, fair Federal and State elections. How do ECs remain entrenched without public outcry or ballot-box rejection? Part of Tasmania’s answer is that ECs – historically, ‘the way things work’ – continue to benefit political and business elites in very profitable ways, while those less well-connected miss out (Johnston, 2005). Other reasons are limited alternatives, and a self-perpetuating lack of transparency and accountability between elections.

Beyond bribery

Corruption[6] is still often equated with bribery, so when bribery is not news, and other forms of corruption poorly understood, for many there is little cause for concern, particularly when perception scores are good. Bribery largely dominated Hay’s (1973) analysis of Tasmanian corruption, including alleged bribery of Forestry Commission officials and the Forestry Minister by sawmillers in 1945; of the Premier, by road transport officials in 1947; the Treasurer in 1958; the Deputy Premier/Attorney General by bookmakers in 1972; and a state MP holding the balance of power, by  Federal Hotels and British Tobacco in 1973.

However, applying the lens of EC corruption highlights today’s less blatant forms of corruption which sustain informal but influential elite coalitions in business, government and others seeking to maintain the benefits of the status quo. Although often legal, largely due to lags in introducing new or updating existing legislation[7], Tasmania’s EC corruption remains socially demoralising and costly.

ECs operate, not primarily through bribery, but via collusion, obfuscation, bullying and secret deal-making, sidelining competitors and critics (Johnston, 2014; linked examples are Tasmanian[8]). Many EC activities are insidious, taking place out of public view; major scandals are minimised and bribery is generally unnecessary, for EC networks offer cheaper, more discreet and effective, and less risky ways to achieve desired outcomes. Often, EC influence works by inaction – by neglect or design – because policy changes or extensive public consultation can introduce delays and expenses, and disrupt an elite-friendly status quo.

Tasmanian state guidelines require community engagement in decision making[9], but terms of reference can be restricted, consultations may be inadequate, potentially misleading, or never occur. Consultation findings[10] may be preempted, published belatedly, concealed or ignored. Philp (2017) differentiated incompetence as another form of political failure, but incompetence can only explain so much. It also provides a fertile field for corrupt actors to exploit under inadequate scrutiny (Bozeman and Jung, 2022).

Adverse outcomes include restricted competition, valid public concerns omitted from planning and legislation, and pushing through ill-founded government decisions without social licence. Reduced accountability and transparency, regulatory failure and loss of trust (Cullen-Cox et.al., 2021), and further risks of corruption and reduced governance capacity may result (Graycar and Villa, 2011).

Much of what ECs do looks like ‘business as usual’ and is difficult to trace[11]. ECs seldom bring down whole regimes because often they are the regime. Particularly in smaller jurisdictions where elite networks can be tight (Veenendaal, 2019), EC collusion can keep controversy – and accountability – within ‘manageable’ bounds. ECs are tenacious in protecting the status quo, and in Tasmania it suits them to have governance systems lagging the rest of Australia[12].Ironically however, EC states can be vulnerable to influence from external actors[13] seeking to exploit economic opportunities and weak accountability, an added risk especially for Tasmania’s indebted economy.

Gunns Pulpmill – an ongoing legacy

A notorious case encapsulating EC influence is Gunns Limited, a timber-processing concern which in 2003 decided to construct a pulp mill in a northern Tasmanian nature conservation area. Designed to convert local timber[14] into over a million tons of export woodpulp annually, it would consume seventy million litres of water daily, and release effluent containing dioxins into Bass Strait and airborne emissions into a temperature inversion layer. Yet the State saw all industrialisation as beneficial, regardless of social or environmental cost (Beresford, 2015), alternative visions or competing objectives[15].

One might expect such a major project to require extensive, meaningful public consultation, but in 2004 the site’s conservation status was lifted and the project proceeded without social licence. In 2007 further approvals drew criticism from Tasmania’s Resource Planning and Development Commission. Gunns simply withdrew from their assessment processes, resulting in one possible outcome: the Commission was disbanded. Federal approval followed. 

The project was eventually scuttled, not by public interest considerations but by declining pulp and timber markets (Wells, 2010); in 2011 Gunns entered voluntary administration. There was an unsuccessful $100,000 bribery attempt by Gunns’ Chairman to a Labor MP to cross the floor and prevent formation of a Greens coalition. In 2013 Gunns’ Managing Director was convicted of insider trading. Such conventional corruption gained most public and media attention, but Gunns’ EC tactics  –  secret initial negotiations, favouritism, collusion, mutual back-scratching, and the lack of transparency, consultation or public approval – received much less, helping keep the proposal alive for seven years and forming a template that persists today.

Similar tactics have since been observed in other controversies at both state and local council levels. Disregard of public interest is a running theme in Tasmania’s governance, accelerating in the 1970s when public concern mounted over the environmental impacts of exploiting Tasmania’s natural resources including timber and hydro-electricity (including Lake Pedder[16]), and extending since to mining, windfarms, waterways/oceans, parklands, eco-tourism, property developments and more [17].

Wherever there is a ‘free’, inadequately-controlled public resource from which to profit, especially where governance requires reform, corruption can occur.

EC corruption is harmful

Every community has elites, often prominent in public service. But when networks become entrenched,  concealing key decision processes, stifling debate and driving threatening issues underground, democratic inclusion is lost (Warren, 2004) and inequality is worsened. Other tactics –  e.g. delay, restricting competitors, segmenting tenders below accountability thresholds, bypassing planning regulations – potentially benefit cronies.

Critics are marginalised or denigrated as “blockers”: challenging the consensus, and making valid complaints e.g. about poor planning, lack of vision, financial impacts or regulatory failure can result in bullying, exclusion and even violent disputes[18]. Legislation[19] can be delegated to individuals or NGOs to attempt to uphold. Meanwhile, directorships can be reserved for ‘captain’s picks’, and ‘revolving doors’ enable EC insiders to pursue cushy private employment or consultancies. Social division is reinforced.

EC corruption mostly benefits the well-connected[20]; for others it causes real harm to families, communities, and citizens’ right to be informed. Our third installment examines these costs, including a case that nearly derailed MONA, one of Tasmania’s most valuable cultural and economic assets. A fourth and concluding posting, on reforms, will follow.  

Bibliography

Bachrach, P. and Baratz, M.S. (1975) ‘Power and Its Two Faces Revisited: A Reply to Geoffrey Debnam’, The American Political Science Review, 69(3), pp. 900–904. Available at: https://doi.org/10.2307/1958398

Beresford, Q. (2015) The Rise and Fall of Gunns Ltd. New South Publishing. Available at: https://unsw.press/books/the-rise-and-fall-of-gunns-ltd/ (Accessed: 7 February 2025).

Bozeman, B. and Jung, J. (2022) ‘The Corruption-Incompetence Nexus: Analysis of Corrupt US Mayors’, Journal of Policy Studies, 37(2), pp. 1–12. Available at: https://doi.org/10.52372/jps37201.

Cullen-Knox, C. et al. (2021) ‘Perceiving Environmental Science, Risk and Industry Regulation in the Mediatised Vicious Cycles of the Tasmanian Salmon Aquaculture Industry’, Social Epistemology, 35(5), pp. 441–460. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/02691728.2021.1913661.

Flanagan, R. (2021) Toxic – The Rotting Underbelly of the Tasmanian Salmon Industry. 1st edn. Australia: Random House. Available at: https://jameshwhitmorereviews.com/2021/05/17/review-toxic-by-richard-flanagan/ (Accessed: 10 February 2025).

Graycar, A. and Villa, D. (2011) ‘The Loss of Governance Capacity through Corruption’, Governance, 24(3), pp. 419–438. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1468-0491.2011.01535.x.

Hay, P.J. (1973) ‘Factors Conducive to Political Corruption: The Tasmanian Experience’, Political Science, 29(2), pp. 115–130.

Johnston, M. (2005) ‘Elite Cartels: how to buy friends and govern people’, in Syndromes of Corruption: Wealth, Power, and Democracy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 89–119. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9780511490965.006.

Johnston, M. (2014) Corruption, Contention, and Reform: The Power of Deep Democratization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139540957.

Lessig, L. (2013) ‘“Institutional Corruption” Defined’, Journal of Law, Medicine & Ethics, 41(3), pp. 553–555. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1111/jlme.12063.

Lindenmayer, D. (2024) The Forest Wars. 1st edn. NSW: Allen & Unwin. Available at: https://wildislandtas.com.au/products/the-forest-wars (Accessed: 15 February 2025).

Paar-Jakli, G. and Molina, A.D. (2024) ‘Democracy, Authoritarianism, and Political Corruption: Elite Cartel Corruption in Hungary and Italy’, Public Integrity, 26(5), pp. 520–538. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/10999922.2023.2256091.

Perry, P.J. (2001) Political Corruption in Australia – a Very Wicked Place? 1st edn. London, UK.: Routledge Revivals, Taylor & Francis.

Philp, M. (2017). Conceptualizing political corruption. In A. I. Heidenheimer & M. Johnston (Eds.), Political Corruption: Concepts and Contexts. 3 ed. Ch. 3 (pp. 61-75). Taylor and Francis. https://doi.org/1 0.4324/9781315126647-4

Veenendaal, W. (2019) ‘How Smallness Fosters Clientelism: A Case Study of Malta’, Political Studies, 67(4), pp. 1034–1052. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1177/0032321719828275.

Warren, M.E. (2004) ‘What Does Corruption Mean in a Democracy?’, American Journal of Political Science, 48(2), pp. 328–343. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1111/j.0092-5853.2004.00073.x.

Wells, G. (2010) ‘Economic Assessment of the Gunns Pulp Mill 2004 – 2008’, Working Papers [Preprint]. Available at: https://ideas.repec.org//p/tas/wpaper/10445.html (Accessed: 26 January 2025).

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[1] Robyn Lewis is an MA student in Corruption and Governance, Centre for the Study of Corruption, University of Sussex, UK.

[2] Michael Johnston is the Charles A. Dana Professor of Political Science Emeritus at Colgate University, in Hamilton, New York, USA.

[3] Also diagnosed in e.g. South Korea, Italy and Hungary (Paar-Jakli and Molina, 2024; Johnston, 2014)

[4] Also common but often overlooked in mature liberal democracies. See Thompson, D.F. (2018) Theories of institutional corruption. Annual Review of Political Science, 21(1), pp.495-513.

[5] Or if they do in Tasmania, they are not investigated nor prosecuted. See Flanagan R. (2021)

[6] The abuse of entrusted power for private gain which harms the public interest, typically breaching laws, regulations, and/or integrity standards. (Dobson-Phillips et.al., 2023)

[7] Including Tasmania’s Criminal Code Act (1924)

[8] Note: not all these examples may involve corruption but are potential examples of the types of behaviours described

[9] Although this is currently under threat at the local government level

[10] Also those of government inquiries etc

[11] Tasmania has a Right to Information process, but RTIs only cover written communications or those officially recorded. Results are often delayed and significantly redacted. The RTI process is currently under review.

[12] E.g. Tasmania is the only state/major territory with no ICAC.

[13] Interstate and international

[14] Both plantation timber, and controversially, native forests including old-growth trees (i.e. hundreds of years old)

[15] Such as the economically-important tourism industry, or Brand Tasmania, founded on a ‘clean, green’ image.

[16] Which saw the birth of the first Greens party in the world to contest an election, the UTG (United Tasmania Group)

[17] There remain exceptions, including a 1989 allegation against the Head of the Premier’s Department regarding the appointment of a controversial Ombudsman (Johnston v Alan Hanson Evans, 1992). However today’s influence is largely acquired in indirect, EC ways, aided by growing media monopoly

[18] A failure in implementation of local government regulatory processes allegedly contributed (State of Tasmania v Kerry Alexander Bilston, May 2018)

[19] Including the Federal Environmental Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act (1999)

[20] And their employees and contractors, an often-overlooked factor

Robyn A. Lewis [1] and Professor Michael Johnston[2] examine the concept of Elite Cartels, and how it might be applied to the Australian state of Tasmania. This is the first of a short series of blogs on Tasmania.

How corrupt is Tasmania?

In short, no-one knows.  Corruption is usually concealed, and valid metrics for Tasmania are scarce. Analysts might consult Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI) which ranked Australia 14th of 180 countries in corruption control in 2023, scoring 75 points of 100 (TI, 2024).  However, the CPI gives a single score for a country and does not disaggregate at regional or state level, which may mask or fail to capture what is going on in some areas.

Being a large, historically-diverse Federation whose states vary economically and socially, corruption in business-oriented New South Wales may vary from mining-dominated Western Australia or South Australia’s manufacturing and agriculture. Increasingly, corruption is therefore being analysed on a regional basis (Heywood, 2017; JANAR, 2024).  Within Australia, local influences, geography and historical factors are important (Perry, 2001; Graycar, 2015), particularly for understanding Tasmania, Australia’s smallest state.

Johnston’s typology identifies four mutually-exclusive syndromes: ‘Official Moguls’, ‘Oligarchs and Clans’, ‘Influence Markets’ and ‘Elite Cartels’ (Johnston, 2005; 2014).

The dominant syndrome in Australia’s largest states, as in most market democracies, is ‘Influence Markets’, where official powers, political influence and personal networks are traded or ‘rented’ to private interests contending over specific stakes such as contracts and favourable policy changes, and are power and wealth-oriented. This – and associated bribery – resembles what many Australians are likely to think of as corruption.

However, applying Johnston’s (2014) corruption typologies assessment suggests that Tasmania differs. Its syndrome of corruption, known as ‘Elite Cartels’ (hereafter ECs), is characterised by networks of elites (Osifo, 2018), as observed in Italy and Hungary (Paar-Jakli and Molina, 2023). These are often ‘old boys’ – in business, clubs, sports and professional associations, media, non-profit organisations, unions, academe etc – dominating decision making, frequently in both the public and private spheres.  Such networks typically by-pass, rig or distort formal or official channels such as public procurement and public appointments. One example of many in Tasmania – described by Barnsley as “crony capitalism” [3] – involved the notorious Gunns Pulpmill Project. This project should have received extensive public scrutiny on economic and environmental grounds but progressed for several years – thanks to its backers’ political connections – without public consultation or social licence, only being halted by financial difficulties, not by considerations of public good.

EC corruption is mostly legal; indeed, it can look a lot like ‘business as usual’, especially in an isolated economy with few benchmarks. Johnston notes that bribery is relatively uncommon, partly replaced by what economists Murray and Frijters (2022) describe as ‘grey gifts’ – why break the law if you can do deals with your allies?  ECs often practise corruption by inaction, public obfuscation, charades of consultation, and state capture (Dávid-Barrett, 2023) – blocking unwanted changes, keeping benefits and power within the cartels, and distorting public-interest outcomes. Corruption in the form of processes that should occur but do not, issues kept off the public agenda and decisions not made or taken behind the scenes are unlikely to affect perception-based scores. Instead, ECs often foster a de facto stability congenial to major economic interests, favoured investors or anyone with a stake in the status quo. Over time, they may even be accepted as the way things work, as is apparent in Tasmania.

Why is this corrupt?

One important clue to why this can be considered corrupt lies in what Warren (2004) called ‘duplicitous exclusion’ – denying citizens the chance to participate in decisions affecting their lives – which he sees as the essence of corruption in a democracy. EC players can readily secure business and contracts, exclude competitors, weaken or avoid public consultation processes, regulations and tendering procedures (Johnston, 2014). Insiders benefit from a casual, almost dismissive approach to transparency and accountability (Paar-Jakli and Molina, 2024). Over time they find it easier to pass advantages onto family, favourites and clients, excluding others.

Globally, there is a significant correlation between ECs and institutional or legal corruption as described by Harvard scholars Lessig (2013) and Thompson (2018).[4] EC corruption is thus subtle, inward-looking and tenacious, not least because it benefits the well-connected. Exclusion from “old boys’ networks” imposes penalties from which insiders are exempt.

Corruption costs

Whatever syndrome applies, it is hard to argue that Tasmania is benefiting from corruption. Even in a relatively well-ranking country like Australia, in 2018 corruption was estimated to cost 4% of GDP annually,  which has since increased.[5] Its effects are yet to be quantified in Tasmania, where State Government is the biggest employer.[6]

Costs are also indirect. By connecting interests across sectors, ECs can influence public policy and broader decision-making. Their self-serving stability and generally legal activities can restrict growth and skew public expenditure, discourage innovation (Dincer, 2019), handicap economic or political competitors and harm public health and the environment. Corruption also impacts small business and business confidence, workplace morale, brand and reputation.

How ECs Developed in Tasmania

Historical factors including distant colonial rule played an important role in the evolution of ECs in Tasmania (Perry, 2001).  Numerous corruption cases have occurred since Federation, recently including Edmund Rouse and John Gay and involving political and institutional corruption. But geographic, cultural and economic factors are also influential, including Tasmania’s relatively small population and less diverse economy which helps maintain a relatively static elite stratum. Historical isolation and limited clout in the national arena reduce scrutiny by Federal agencies and national news media.

An oft-cited issue is the lack of an anti-corruption agency (ACA) in Tasmania, instead having an under-resourced Integrity Commission with limited investigative and prosecution powers, which has referred only two people for prosecution and is often described as “toothless”[7]. However, this is as much a symptom of EC corruption as a cause. EC insiders have little interest in improving accountability and scrutiny, and the Tasmanian Government has been described as “the most secretive in Australia”. Their response when these types of issues arise appears to be to say nothing and hope the public forget or are distracted.

What can be done about Elite Cartels corruption?

All other states (and major territories) of Australia – except Tasmania – have an ACA known as an ICAC[8] (Independent Commission Against Corruption). Whilst a fully independent and resourced ICAC with greater scope and powers might help Tasmania address the law enforcement aspects of reform, it would also need a wider remit to address the broader problem. Successful public-sector corruption control depends on understanding how it works, must be multifaceted, and – as argued recently by Pyman and Heywood (2024) – implemented through strong leadership on a sectoral basis. Increased public education and awareness is also needed (Meagher, 2005), for in the relatively few cases where ICACs are effective (Heeks and Mathisen, 2012; Quah, 2015) they depend upon the sort of active reform agenda and popular support that ECs tend to suppress (Johnston, 2022).

Continuous monitoring by the media and public will also be essential. But because much EC power and dominance are won and exercised in legal ways, political action will be equally critical, including political advertising reform. Where ECs are entrenched and maintain a deceptive ‘business-as-usual’ atmosphere, creating political challenges is notoriously difficult. But political opportunities do sometimes arise, and it was recently proposed that Tasmania’s 51^st Parliament has a unique opportunity to commence reform.[9]

Increased external attention and scrutiny by the national press and civil society would also be of benefit, as would greater oversight by the Commonwealth Government in accounting for Federal expenditure within Tasmania.

Conclusion:

Tasmania has flown beneath the corruption radar for too long, with significant, unsustainable costs to development, prosperity, community welfare and the environment – and to Australia nationally, given Tasmania’s reputation as a “mendicant state”. However, by applying the lens of Elite Cartels corruption, its sources and consequences become more apparent, as do opportunities for reform. In general, to address a problem, you must first identify it. In future blogs we will explore specific cases of EC corruption in Tasmania, looking at effects and costs, and suggest ways to replace it with more open and responsive ways of governing and doing business, to the benefit of all.

Bibliography[10]

Dávid-Barrett, E. (2023) ‘State capture and development: a conceptual framework’, Journal of International Relations and Development, pp. 1–21. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1057/s41268-023-00290-6.

Dincer, O. (2019) ‘Does corruption slow down innovation? Evidence from a cointegrated panel of U.S. states’, European Journal of Political Economy, 56, pp. 1–10. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ejpoleco.2018.06.001.

Grabovsky, P. and Larmour, P. (2000) Public Sector Corruption and Its Control. 143. Canberra, ACT: Australian Institute of Criminology, p. 6.

Graycar, A. (2015) ‘Corruption: Classification and analysis’, Policy and Society, 34(2), pp. 87–96. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1016/j.polsoc.2015.04.001.

Heeks, R. and Mathisen, H. (2012) ‘Understanding success and failure of anti-corruption initiatives’, Crime, Law and Social Change, 58(5), pp. 533–549. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1007/s10611-011-9361-y.

Heidenheimer, A.J. (2002) ‘Perspectives on the Perception of Corruption’, in Johnston, M. (ed) Political Corruption. 3rd ed. Routledge.

Heywood, P.M. (2017) ‘Rethinking Corruption: Hocus-Pocus, Locus and Focus’, The Slavonic and East European Review, 95(1), pp. 21–48. Available at: https://doi.org/10.5699/slaveasteurorev2.95.1.0021.

JANAR Anti-Corruption (2024) 32nd Virtual Roundtable on Measuring Corruption, ft. Lamar Crombach. Osaka, Japan (Measuring Corruption Roundtable). Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B79uuW_-YO8.

Johnston, M. (2005) Syndromes of Corruption: Wealth, Power, and Democracy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9780511490965.

Johnston, M. (2014) Corruption, Contention, and Reform: The Power of Deep Democratization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139540957.

Johnston, M. (2022) ‘It takes a whole society: why Hong Kong’s ICAC cannot succeed alone’, Public Administration and Policy, 25(2), pp. 109–123. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1108/PAP-05-2022-0042

Laing, A. and Anon. (2023) ‘Costing Corruption and Other Efficiency Losses’, Artificial Fiscal Intelligence, 31 March. Available at: https://artificialfiscalintelligence.com/afi_home/costing-corruption/.

Lessig, L. (2013) ‘FOREWORD: “Institutional Corruption” Defined’, The Journal of Law, Medicine & Ethics, 41(3), pp. 553–555. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1111/jlme.12063.

Meagher, P. (2005) ‘Anti‐corruption agencies: Rhetoric Versus reality’, The Journal of Policy Reform, 8(1), pp. 69–103. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/1384128042000328950.

Murray, C. and Fritjers, P. (2022) Rigged – How Networks of Powerful Mates Rip Off Everyday Australians. Queensland, Australia: Pubilicious Pty Ltd. Available at: https://gameofmates.com/

Osifo, O.C. (2018) ‘A Network Perspective and Hidden Corruption’, Journal of Public Administration and Governance, 8(1), pp. 115–136. Available at: https://doi.org/10.5296/jpag.v8i1.12697.

Paar-Jakli, G. and Molina, A.D. (2024) ‘Democracy, Authoritarianism, and Political Corruption: Elite Cartel Corruption in Hungary and Italy’, Public Integrity, 26(5), pp. 520–538. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/10999922.2023.2256091.

Perry, P.J. (2001) Political Corruption in Australia – a Very Wicked Place? 1st ed. London, UK.: Routledge Revivals, Taylor & Francis.

Pyman, M. and Heywood, P.M. (2024) Sector-Based Action Against Corruption: A Guide for Organisations and Professionals. Cham: Springer Nature Switzerland (Political Corruption and Governance). Available at: https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-59336-9.

Quah, J.S.T. (2015) ‘Evaluating the effectiveness of anti-corruption agencies in five Asian countries’, Asian Education and Development Studies, 4(1), pp. 143–159. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1108/AEDS-10-2014-0050.

Thompson, D.F. (2018) ‘Theories of Institutional Corruption’, Annual Review of Political Science, 21(Volume 21, 2018), pp. 495–513. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-polisci-120117-110316.

Warren, M.E. (2004) ‘What Does Corruption Mean in a Democracy?’, American Journal of Political Science, 48(2), pp. 328–343. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1111/j.0092-5853.2004.00073.x.

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[1] Robyn Lewis is an MA student in Corruption and Governance, Centre for the Study of Corruption, University of Sussex, UK.

[2] Michael Johnston is the Charles A. Dana Professor of Political Science Emeritus at Colgate University, in Hamilton, New York, USA.

[3] To be detailed later in this blog series.

[4] Discussed later in this blog series.

[5] To put this in perspective, 4% of Tasmania’s GDP of AUD 42.062 billion (CEIC, 2024) is AUD 1.682 billion, per annum, equivalent to over a football stadium, per year. Such a leakage can be catastrophic in a small economy like Tasmania’s (Laing et.al., 2023)

[6]  Costs are the subject of a later blog.

[7] Discussed later in this blog series

[8] IBAC (Independent Broad-based Anti-corruption Commission) in Victoria

[9] Discussed in a later blog article

[10] All other references are linked in text. A full Bibliography will be published at the end of this blog series.

Michael Hornsby, Impact Manager at Anti-Corruption Data Collective (ACDC) and David Szakonyi, ACDC co-founder, discuss the value that cross-sectoral collaborations might bring to complex, cross-border investigations into illicit financial flows and kleptocracy using leaked, commercial and public data sets. 

Picture the scene: you’re an investigative journalist and, out of the blue, a source offers you a treasure trove of data that exposes the inner workings of an opaque financial jurisdiction long suspected of enabling large-scale financial crime and corruption.  

Who would you call? 

For many journalists in this position, the answer has been an international media organisation with the ability to set up and coordinate collaboration across multiple newsrooms in multiple countries. This model has successfully underpinned many of the largest and most transformative cross-border collaborative investigations into offshore finance and corruption, such as the Panama Papers, Troika Laundromat and Pandora Papers. 

The involvement of diverse journalistic expertise from around the world helps to ensure that the most interesting and timely stories are extracted from the data. These massive collaborative projects have led to equally enormous impacts: toppling governments, sparking prosecutions, informing new sanctions, regulations, legislation and international frameworks, as well as catapulting the offshore world into the public consciousness.  

Despite this arguably successful track record, some journalists, like Frederik Obermaier, who together with Bastian Obermayer, received the Panama Papers and Pandora Papers (along with other high-profile leaks) have wondered how non-journalistic actors in the anti-corruption space, such as academics and civil society experts, can contribute to even greater impact by getting involved in collaborative investigations early on. 

New models for collaboration  

In November, the organisations behind two current Governance & Integrity Anti-Corruption Evidence (GI ACE) projects, along with the National Endowment for Democracy, convened experts from across journalism, technology, policy and academia at a Data against Kleptocracy workshop held in London. Our discussion focused on how journalists and data-savvy social scientists can better collaborate to investigate illicit financial flows and kleptocracy using leaked, commercial and public data sets.    

For one of these GI ACE projects, our organisation, the Anti-Corruption Data Collective (ACDC), is collaborating with the Platform to Protect Whistleblowers in Africa (PPLAAF) to mine the 2021 Congo Hold-Up leak from BGFI Bank in the DRC for fresh insights. Journalists from 18 countries pored over this dataset – the largest ever leak of financial records from the African continent – and exposed how the DRC’s former President Joseph Kabila and his inner circle laundered millions of dollars through the bank. 

The initial results from this collaboration are helping to prove the concept that we set out to test when Frederik Obermaier and David founded ACDC in 2020, together with the anti-corruption policy expert Zoë Reiter. By applying the kinds of big data analysis that informs much of contemporary social science research, we have been able to generate insights which were not available during the original wave of Congo Hold-Up reporting. For instance, by identifying previously unrecognised companies as highly likely to have been involved in money laundering through BGFI’s branch in the DRC. 

Data science approaches further allow us to evaluate the effectiveness of international banks’ de-risking policies in reducing money laundering and the banks’ exposure to it. We are also able to determine whether whistleblower revelations changed attitudes and appetites toward risk at BGFI in the DRC.  

Reaching this stage of the collaboration has meant overcoming several challenges, many of which were familiar to participants in the London workshop: Journalists and academics work on different timelines, they ask different questions of the data in front of them, and their organisations have different understandings of the ethical and legal questions around public interest, privacy and data processing.  

However, this nascent mode of collaboration has already seen some stand-out successes.  

What can we learn from early success stories? 

Matthew Collin, an economist at the EU Tax Observatory who is part of our team for the Congo Hold-Up project, has analyzed publicly available data from the Cayman National Bank and Trust (Isle of Man) that was initially received by the journalist collective Distributed Denial of Secrets. His work produced three new discoveries, helping pull back the curtain on the potential level of wealth contained in offshore accounts, the frequency of politically exposed persons (PEPs) controlling these accounts, and the critical importance of shell companies in providing the opacity to make it all happen.  

Our colleagues in the current GI ACE cohort from University of Exeter, OCCRP and University of Oxford have launched a similarly ambitious project that taps over 50 terabytes of administrative and leaked datasets. By developing new tools to process such massive reams of information, they’re contributing not just to our academic understanding of the role of professional enablers in facilitating illicit financial flows around the world, but also creating real value for journalists working with similar data down the line. 

The discussion in London made it clear that individuals, organisations and institutions in this space need varied types of support in order to pursue more collaborations, whether they receive and archive leaks, coordinate investigations or conduct academic research. Many teams are facing the same thorny problems in analyzing these large datasets, and there was widespread interest in creating platforms and workshops to better communicate lessons learned.  

But there is also a mismatch between the wealth of data waiting to be analyzed and the resources available to teams to pilot potential ideas and make their cases to journalists. GI ACE is an exemplary example of a program providing much-needed support to projects such as ours so that we can demonstrate the importance of these types of cross-sector collaborations. 

Additionally, to achieve the added value promised by academic insights, it is  crucial to bring empirical findings to policy makers and practitioners to help underpin and drive effective action. This often falls outside of the normal practice of both academics and journalists, highlighting the important role of civil society organisations and impact-oriented partnerships in making the bridge to end users.  

This nascent community of interdisciplinary practitioners will continue learning from each other and we see a clear mandate for developing this collaborative work further. Our hope is that in the future, one of the first calls a journalist will make after receiving a leak might be to a university. 

Originally posted as a Governance & Integrity Anti-Corruption Evidence (GI ACE) Programme blog.