NACC deal represents substantial win for independents despite sidelined role

Australia's two major parties have essentially locked in their design for the National Anti-Corruption Commission, and the move has left the crossbench—the independents and Greens who spent years pushing for exactly this body—on the outside looking in. The deal is done in all but name. Labor and the Coalition have found common ground, which means the minor parties no longer have the numbers to shape what comes next. But before dismissing this as a loss for the teals and their allies, it's worth understanding what they actually won, and why the major parties moved so decisively to cut them out.

The NACC that emerged this week is, by any reasonable measure, far more muscular than what either major party would have designed alone. It allows members of the public to lodge complaints. It permits investigations into conduct that occurred before the commission was established. It can make findings of corruption against people who aren't public officials. These are substantial powers. The sticking point—the thing that divided Labor and the Coalition from the crossbench—was the threshold for holding public hearings. The independents wanted to adopt New South Wales's standard: the public interest. The major parties instead chose Victoria's higher bar, the "exceptional circumstances" test. Under that framework, most investigations will happen behind closed doors.

Why did the major parties unite on this particular line? The answer sits in recent history and in the psychology of modern politics. In South Australia, a police officer took his own life more than two years after an investigation began in which he was implicated. By the time he was cleared, it was too late. In New South Wales, Queensland, and South Australia, public figures have been publicly investigated and then left in limbo for months or years, their reputations corroded by allegation alone. The major parties watched this unfold and saw a cautionary tale. They also saw something else: a tool that could be turned against them. Peter Dutton, now Opposition Leader, put it bluntly. Minor parties and independents, he suggested, have no stake in governing. They benefit from chaos, from allegations, from the spectacle of investigation. They can hurl accusations at those in power and face no consequences. "They want—whether it's a Labor or a Liberal government—for there to be these show trials and for there to be an era of instability because that's their model, that's what gets them elected, if people are unhappy with the government of the day," he said.

It's a touch ungenerous to figures like Helen Haines, who has genuinely campaigned for a national integrity commission for years. But the concern is not entirely without merit. The Greens, this very week, were calling a diesel excise rebate to miners an act of corruption. The major parties recognize that a commission with a low threshold for public hearings becomes a weapon. They also recognize that both of them could be on the receiving end. So they made a deal. Labor gets the commission it promised. The Coalition gets a design that protects politicians from the kind of reputational damage that can linger for years. Both get protection from the crossbench using the body as a political cudgel.

Geoffrey Watson, a senior counsel and director of the Centre for Public Integrity, understands the tension. He's critical of the higher threshold for public hearings, but he also concedes the major parties have a point. Corruption commissions are not ordinary bodies. They can compel testimony. They can override legal professional privilege. They can prevent witnesses from even telling their families or therapists that they're under investigation. As Julian Leeser, the Shadow Attorney-General, noted, "the corruption commission can be police, jury, judge and executioner." The rights afforded to people accused of murder or terrorism should apply to the Parliament House gardener or cleaner who might be caught in an investigation. Prolonged uncertainty, Watson argues, is itself a form of injustice. He recommends a three-month timeline for inquiries to reach resolution.

So where does this leave the independents and Greens? They say they'll keep fighting. They'll push for a lower threshold when Parliament votes on the legislation. But they're also numerically irrelevant now. Labor and the Coalition have the numbers to pass the bill without them. Prime Minister Anthony Albanese and Attorney-General Mark Dreyfus could simply ignore the crossbench demands. But Dreyfus has noted that a commission with the support of the whole Parliament carries more weight with the public—it signals that Canberra isn't entirely rotten. There's a political calculation in that reasoning. At the same time, bowing to the crossbench could fracture Labor's own caucus and risk losing Coalition support, which would be a disaster.

The independents have already secured something substantial, even if it doesn't feel like it. Public referrals, retrospective investigations, findings against third parties—these are all things the major parties resisted not long ago. The threshold for public hearings is higher than some wanted, but it's not zero. The commission will still have real power. John Howard used to say that 80 per cent of something is better than 100 per cent of nothing. What emerged this week was considerably more than 80 per cent of what the crossbench has been asking for. Whether they can be convinced of that victory, or whether they'll spend the next weeks insisting on the remaining 20 per cent, will shape how this story ends.