Peter Williams: The Silence After the Scoop

One of the curiosities of modern journalism is not how often stories are missed, but how often they are found, laid bare — and then quietly abandoned.

A week ago, the Otago Daily Times published what I regard as the most substantial piece of investigative journalism produced by a New Zealand newspaper this year. Across four full pages, with a front-page splash, the ODT examined allegations of serious governance and financial failings at Te Kaika, a Dunedin health hub operated by Otepoti Health Limited, a Māori health and social services trust. The sums involved run into many millions of dollars of taxpayer funding. The issues raised went to conflicts of interest, board oversight, accountability, and the blurred line between public money and private control.

It was serious, painstaking work. The kind of journalism editors say they want more of, but so rarely commission. And then — nothing.

Since Saturday December 5, there has been no follow-up reporting in the ODT. No second-day angle. No response piece. No “what happens next”. One letter to the editor. No discussion in the paper’s own “From our Facebook” column, which normally thrives on controversy. And, more strikingly, no pickup by other mainstream media at all.

That silence is extraordinary.

When a newspaper goes as big as the ODT did, it creates an obligation — not just to the story, but to readers. Investigative journalism is not a one-day event. It is a process. It provokes responses, denials, explanations, counter-claims, and often legal positioning. All of that is part of the public interest. When the reporting simply stops, readers are left to draw their own conclusions — and none of them are flattering to the media.

So why the sudden quiet?

There are only a few plausible explanations. One is that the reporting was wrong. That seems highly unlikely. Stories of this scale do not appear without extensive fact-checking and legal vetting. Editors do not run four pages and a front-page lead on a whim. If errors had been discovered post-publication, one would expect clarification, correction, or at the very least a holding position. Silence suggests confidence, not retreat.

Another possibility is that the paper decided, having done the hard work, to move on. That would be a failure of editorial judgement. Good investigative stories are rare. They demand persistence. They do not conclude neatly on a Saturday morning.

Which leaves the most uncomfortable explanation: pressure.

Otepoti Health Limited does not exist in a vacuum. Ultimately, it sits within a network of Māori health and governance structures with significant political influence. Ngāi Tahu, as the dominant iwi in the region, looms large in the background. No allegation needs to be made to observe that legal threats, reputational pressure, or quiet warnings can have a chilling effect — particularly in a small media market, and particularly when issues intersect with race, Treaty politics, and public funding.

If that is what has happened, it deserves daylight. If it has not happened, then the ODT should say so — and continue reporting.

This pattern is not confined to Dunedin.

Consider the Willie Jackson affair. Cameron Slater, through his Good Oil website and podcast, has published detailed allegations about the Labour MP’s conduct, including claims that he trespassed a trade union official from a workplace. These are not trivial matters. They go to the exercise of power, intimidation, and the conduct expected of a Member of Parliament.

We know mainstream media were aware of these claims. Slater has produced an email from Stuff’s Tova O’Brien to the CEO of the Manukau Urban Māori Authority — Willie Jackson’s wife — seeking comment on bullying allegations involving her organisation. That was over a month ago. Since then, nothing. No article. No investigation. No explanation.

Again, silence.

The problem here is not whether Cameron Slater is a comfortable source. He is not. He is partisan, abrasive, and deeply unpopular in newsrooms. But journalism is not supposed to be about comfort. When allegations are serious, corroborated, and already circulating, the job of mainstream media is not to look away, but to verify, contextualise, and report — or to explain why they cannot.

Instead, we get a void. And into that void rush suspicion and cynicism.

The public notices when stories involving Māori organisations, public money, and political power are treated differently. When scrutiny is intense one day and absent the next. When accusations against some figures are pursued relentlessly, while others appear insulated.

None of this serves Māori communities, journalists, or the wider public. Transparency is not racism. Accountability is not colonisation. Public money demands public scrutiny, regardless of who administers it.

The ODT deserves credit for its original reporting on Te Kaika. It was courageous and important. But journalism does not end at publication. If the story stands, it should be pursued. If it has stalled for reasons beyond the newsroom, readers deserve to know.

Because the silence, at present, is deafening.

Peter Williams was a writer and broadcaster for half a century. Now watching from the sidelines. Peter blogs regularly on Peter’s Substack - where this article was sourced.