From the beginning to the end of the Collaery prosecution was an ignominious fact: the wrong people were in the dock. It should have been politicians, spooks, bureaucrats and company executives.
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Collaery was openly attesting to a disagreeable fact of which most Australians would disapprove - that this nation bugged resources negotiations with a poor neighbour to gain an unfair advantage for a multinational oil consortium. Two senior men involved in commissioning the dirty work then went on to work for the oil company that was the main beneficiary.
Pragmatic Australians accept the need for espionage, and clandestine operations abroad, to monitor the activities of governments which might not be as friendly as they pretend. Intelligence information is sometimes fed to Australian companies seeking international contracts, though the operations are not usually on behalf of such companies.
The ASIS operative who carried out the bugging, later to be known as Witness K, became uneasy about what he had done, not least after the minister of foreign affairs of the time, Alexander Downer, retired and went on to the Woodside board. And the secretary of foreign affairs at the time of the bugging, Ashton Calvert, also went into Woodside's employ. Witness K complained internally, and the intelligence watchdog suggested he get a lawyer, handing him a list of security cleared lawyers able to act in such matters. At the top of the list was Bernard Collaery, who already had Timor Leste experience.
The start of proceedings against the two began in 2013 while Labor was last in power, and Mark Dreyfus was attorney-general. An ASIO raid was made on Collaery's house, and documents were taken. As it happened, the head of ASIO at the time was the late David Irvine, who had been head of ASIS at the time of the bugging. Foreign minister Bob Carr, as well as the ABC and The Australian, had already disclosed the substance of the 2004 bugging.
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Some in the national security establishment were determined that any leakers of national security material be punished and be seen to be punished. It was the principle of the thing, rather than a matter dependent on any embarrassment caused. After great argument, some protections were placed in the draconian laws, requiring the attorney-general's consent to prosecution. Allowance for public interest defences was scarcely existent, even in cases where the disclosures were of illegality, impropriety and damage to the national interest.
Even after the Commonwealth DPP signalled willingness to prosecute, the files remained on the desk of Dreyfus and his Coalition successor, George Brandis, both of whom had a healthy appreciation of how the case could reverberate. But Christian Porter authorised going ahead, and the Commonwealth, acting independently of the DPP, began assuming a major role in the case by arguing the trial could not involve the public disclosure of national security material. Some material was so secret it had to be concealed from the defence, it said.
Millions of dollars have now been spent attempting to conceal what was already known and attempting to avoid any political or bureaucratic accountability for dishonourable, contemptible behaviour. No matter what Dreyfus does to halt the case, it is unlikely that he can prevent a further wallow in national shame.