“One day there’ll be a Mudgee moment for the Ombudsman office. Will they be ready? Will they be able to run over those who think, wrongly, that the Ombudsman Office’s is a push over?” writes former barrister HUGH SELBY.

Did you see that last minute play in Golden Time by the Raiders at Mudgee? See it for the first time, or the tenth, on this ABC link. 

What happened in 28 seconds of sheer brilliance was this: the Panthers’ Cleary has a shot at goal, 37 metres out, but a straight line. You can hear the post clunk as the ball hits it, an omen of despair and hope as the ball then bounces hard and high, to be caught by the Raiders’ up-and-coming Stuart who leaps up to catch it as though he is playing another code. He quickly passes it to his left. 

A charging rhino called Strange takes it and tears down the left boundary with Panthers and the green machine in pursuit. About 15 metres out he flips a pass to a big enough “mini me” Weekes who crashes across the line, combining his own speed with the forward momentum of several piling Panthers desperately trying to stave off defeat. 

You create your own luck and the Raiders threesome did that in spades. This was a moment when training came through, when teamwork shone.

Coach Ricky Stuart wasn’t in the camera shot when this all went down, but I’ll bet it’s burnt into his pleasant memories.

Playing the clip of that action took me back to my awful footie youth. The school elect were those with sporting talent. Year after year I was in the outcasts, the team “coached” (if that’s the word) by the school chaplain.  The joke was that only God could save us. He chose not to.

The pity is that they didn’t get the better kids to coach us:  you can make a team from talentless people if you inspire them. So motivated they can then do the unexpected. They too can be proud, rather than just sullen.

Still Mudgee, but it’s a different playing field

Back to Mudgee. Now here’s a memory of a different kind. I was there to represent a likeable shire engineer who had fallen victim to the internecine bastardy that is a feature of local politics.

Some faction wanted his scalp. One of them was reckless enough to come into the council chambers repurposed as a formal hearing room. It’s an ancient rule that if you are so foolish as to enter the playing space that you can be called instanter as a witness.

We were on a hiding to nothing. I called him down from the gallery. The big end of town went very quiet. Then they asked for a recess. They came back with an offer that was like manna from heaven. We were gracious.  We took it. Why not? We didn’t have any questions to ask him, but they didn’t know that.

Now I have two good memories of Mudgee, albeit decades apart.

Asking questions requires practice and teamwork

Asking questions, knowing when to ask, what to ask, how to ask, is a skill. Talent helps but, like footie, it can be learned up to a point. Questioning is better with teamwork – because the questioner benefits from the thoughts of others.

Readers will recall that I was critical of the Ombudsman’s Office for its inordinate delays when dealing with complaints about Freedom of Information (FOI). But I was supportive of their criticism of the Integrity Commissioner for awarding an internal job contract without following the rules.

A little birdie told me that some years ago the Ombudsman Office failed to make use of its powers (production of records and require answers to questions under section 9 of the Ombudsman Act; seeking Federal Court determination of an issue under section 11A; and, having the witness take an oath or affirmation before answering questions, section 13) when an ANU music school academic lodged a complaint. That was under a previous Ombudsman. Had things changed?

I asked the Ombudsman’s Office about whether they use their tools to compel production of documents and then require answers to questions.  We can call that, “getting your hands dirty”, or “being prepared to get down in the mud ”.

Here’s an edited version of what we got from them.

Any actual, or threatened, use of those provisions?

In the last three years, five notices under section 9 of the Act were issued. Sections 11A and 13 have not been used.

We do not make threats to agencies or agency staff.

Any operating instructions within the office as to when, how, and by whom these provisions might be applied?

The Office’s Investigations Policy is publicly available and provides guidance related to section 9 and section 11A. 

Any training of staff so that the provisions in sections 9 and 13 could be/have been used?

There is training; however, it is not practical skills training. Moreover only notices to produce documents have been issued. There has been no questioning.

I laughed at the “we don’t threaten”. That can be because a team is, of its very calibre, a threat. No more is needed. It can also be because we are mice, not men, and no threat to anyone.

Full marks to the Ombudsman for answering all my questions fully, and quickly. They could have dissembled or told me to put my request into the dense thicket of perpetual obscurity, aka FOI.  

That said, the Ombudsman investigators need to be taught how to use these questioning powers. It’s a practical skill. It cannot be acquired from reading or watching. To learn one must do. They need to practise with simulations.  

One day there’ll be a Mudgee moment for the Ombudsman office. Will they be ready? Will they be able to run over those who think, wrongly, that the Ombudsman Office is a push over?

I hope so. I hope to write about it with the same excitement as watching the magic of the Raiders’ beauty with the charging beasts.

Former barrister Hugh Selby is a CityNews columnist, principally focused on legal affairs.