New Englanders have a sharp “fair go” radar. You don’t need a courtroom finding to sense when a system is leaning towards insiders. When jobs, grants and contracts keep circling the same small group, people stop debating policy and start debating trust.
I’ve written before about Indigenous procurement and Canberra: follow the money and patterns start to appear. The same risk exists in Aboriginal Affairs NSW – and anywhere public money, jobs and influence are distributed through processes that are hard to see into.
Let’s be clear about what I’m not doing here. I’m not alleging that any specific person or organisation in Aboriginal affairs in NSW has done anything unlawful. I’m talking about a practical reality: a system can produce nepotism-like outcomes without anyone ever writing “nepotism” on a form. In regional NSW, the perception of nepotism is often enough to do damage.
That damage can look like this:
- A local Aboriginal organisation in New England tries to get a program off the ground and keeps hitting the same invisible wall: the application process is designed for people with time, staff and a grants writer, not for community organisations already delivering crisis work.
- A small Aboriginal business bids for work but can’t compete with bigger providers who have bid teams, compliance systems and existing relationships with decision-makers.
- A community leader is asked to “consult”, only to find the decision is effectively already made.
Again and again, locals feel like they’re being invited to endorse outcomes, not shape them.
None of that is proof of nepotism… but it is exactly how a closed-shop story grows. And it’s a particularly sharp issue in Aboriginal Affairs NSW because the stakes are high and the work is sensitive. Relationships matter. Cultural authority matters. Local knowledge matters. When people believe decisions are driven by networks rather than needs, the backlash isn’t abstract. People disengage. Good candidates stop applying. Local capability stalls.
So what do we do if we want the system to be strong enough to survive daylight?
First, make it easier to follow the money and the decisions. The fastest way to cool down rumours of nepotism is to remove the fog they live in. Publish a clear, searchable record of grants and contracts: who received them, how much, what region they serve, what outcomes were promised, and what was delivered. Not a PDF graveyard – a living public list that anyone in Tamworth, Armidale, Moree, Inverell, Glen Innes or Gunnedah can check.
Second, treat conflicts of interest like the normal thing they are – and manage them visibly.
In regional NSW, connections are inevitable. People are related, worked together, sat on boards together, or grew up together. That’s not automatically wrong. The problem starts when connections are undeclared, unmanaged, or allowed to tilt a process. Declarations should be routine. Recusals should be normal. Panel membership should rotate so no small group becomes permanent gatekeepers.
Third, stop rewarding polish over proof. Aboriginal affairs systems often claim to value community-led outcomes, but the paperwork can end up rewarding whoever is best at writing government-shaped sentences. If we want real outcomes, then “evidence” needs to recognise real community delivery: continuity, cultural safety, local governance and results you can actually see – not just the neatest spreadsheet.
Fourth, build pathways that keep value local. If a provider based outside the region wins work in the region, the contract should require measurable local benefit: local jobs, local subcontracting, local governance, and a plan to build local capability rather than extract it. If that can’t be shown, the bid shouldn’t win.
Finally, don’t confuse risk management with reputation management. The goal here isn’t to protect departments from criticism. It’s to protect communities from a system that quietly concentrates opportunity and then acts surprised when trust evaporates.
The New England doesn’t need perfection. We need processes that are open, explainable and fair enough that people keep turning up.
Because once a community decides the game is stitched up, it stops playing – and in Aboriginal affairs, where outcomes depend on participation and trust, that’s a cost we can’t afford.
Note: This is an opinion piece about governance design and public confidence. It does not allege wrongdoing by any identifiable person or organisation.
Dean Foley grew up in Gunnedah and later served as an analyst in the Royal Australian Air Force before founding Barayamal, an Indigenous business accelerator. He is a contributor to the New England Times covering Indigenous Affairs, procurement and community-led economic development.
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Great piece Dean Foley. I know the focus is on Aboriginal Affairs in this piece, but is applicable across all community services, especially out here in the regions where we rely on a small population to source people for board members etc. Shake it up indeed, transparency all round!