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Asia Pacific Report

The issue of Australians — and New Zealanders as well — serving in the Israeli military has sparked growing debate as the genocidal war crimes in Gaza mount.

Most of those involved are believed to be dual Israeli-Australian citizens, and under current Australian law, it is not automatically illegal to join a recognised foreign army, reports OnePath.

However, critics say the lack of transparency, including unclear numbers, roles, and oversight, is troubling, especially while international courts are examining serious allegations linked to the conflict.

Proceedings at the International Court of Justice (ICJ), where Israel is on trial for  genocide in a case brought by South Africa, and International Criminal Court (ICC) warrants for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyhu and other officials have intensified questions about Australia’s responsibility to monitor its citizens abroad.

According to an Al Jazeera report, more than 50,000 Western nationals — most of them holding US or European Union passports — have joined the Israeli military in its genocidal war that has killed more than 72,000 Palestinians.

The largest number is from the United States — 12,350 dual nationality US-Israel citizens and 1207 multiple nationalities — followed by 6127 French dual national citizens and 337 multiple nationalities, according to data obtained by the Israeli NGO Hatzlacha through Israel’s Freedom of Information Law.

Australia is well down the list with 502 dual nationality soldiers and 119 multiple nationality citizens. New Zealand is 56th with 39 and 11.

Accountability major concern
A major concern being raised is accountability: if any Australians serving in Gaza were involved in alleged war crimes, would they actually be investigated?

Legal experts say Australia has “universal jurisdiction” laws, meaning citizens can theoretically be prosecuted for serious crimes committed overseas, but so far, there has been little public evidence of active investigations.

Critics argue this creates a perception of double standards.

The debate ultimately centres on whether Australia is willing to apply the same scrutiny to its own nationals in foreign conflicts, ensuring that military service abroad does not place individuals beyond the reach of the law.

Similar questions apply to New Zealand.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Evening Report: https://eveningreport.nz/2026/02/16/600-australians-50-kiwis-fighting-for-israeli-military-during-gaza-genocide/

Source: The Conversation (Au and NZ) – By Jeannie Marie Paterson, Professor of Law (consumer protections and credit law), The University of Melbourne

Coles has appeared before the Federal Court in Melbourne, as hearings for a high-stakes case launched against the supermarket by Australia’s consumer watchdog officially begin.

The Australian Competition and Consumer Commission (ACCC) is alleging Coles misled consumers with “illusory” discounts between February 2022 and May 2023.

The watchdog alleges that in this period, Coles temporarily increased the prices of “at least 245 different products”, then placed them on “Down Down” promotions which were:

higher than, or the same as, the price at which each product had ordinarily been offered for sale.

In opening arguments on Monday, head counsel for the ACCC, Garry Rich SC, described the supermarket’s conduct as “utterly misleading”.

While Coles’ legal team only addressed the court for a short time on Monday, barrister John Sheahan KC said Coles customers were aware of price movements before making purchases.

Coles has signalled it will argue the price increases in question represented a genuine response to surging costs.

So, what exactly is at stake for one of Australia’s largest supermarket giants?

Behind the allegations

The ACCC alleges Coles offered misleading discounts on a wide range of products over the relevant period – ranging from Colgate toothpaste to Sanitarium Weet-Bix cereal.

In its court filing, the ACCC provides the example of a 16 pack of Strepsils Throat Lozenges Honey & Lemon. According to the ACCC, this product had been for sale on a “Down Down” promotion at a price of A$5.50 for at least 649 days.

The ACCC says on 12 October 2022, Coles increased the price to $7 for 28 days, then reduced it back to $6 on a “Down Down” promotion, 9% higher than the previous price of $5.50.

What does ‘Down Down’ mean?

In making this accusation, the ACCC is emphasising the overall impression created in the mind of the reasonable consumer was that the price drop related to a price set more than a short period before.

It argues consumers should be able to take the “Down Down” campaign at face value, without scrutinising the fine print price change or researching prices over the recent history.

Notably, the ACCC is arguing that the conduct by Coles was “planned”. In other words, that the allegedly misleading representations were deliberate.

Under Australian Consumer Law, conduct can be misleading without being intentional. However, if the ACCC can show that the conduct was indeed planned then an inference that the conduct was also misleading is easier to establish. Additionally, intentional misleading representations are likely to attract a larger penalty.

What might Coles argue?

By contrast, Coles’ case is likely to rest on two things. First, its right to raise prices, especially in response to what Coles has said were “significant cost increases”, including:

a surge in global commodity prices, and in the cost of packaging, freight, utilities and international shipping.

And second, that the “Down Down” price on the ticket was, strictly speaking, accurate – there was a price reduction from the shelf, just not a reduction compared to the historical, pre-increase price.

So it is a legal battle with potentially significant consequences for all parties.

A separate action by the ACCC against Woolworths, also alleging “illusory” discounts, will be heard later this year.

Clearly the outcome of the case against Woolworths will be influenced by what happens in the Coles litigation.

What’s at stake?

If Coles is found to have made the alleged misleading representations, any penalties will be determined by the court in a separate hearing. However, the amounts are potentially significant.

The maximum penalty could be $50 million per contravention, or more.

By comparison, in 2024, Qantas was ordered to pay $100 million for misleading consumers by accepting bookings for flights that had already been cancelled.

Separately, the Federal Court last year ordered Optus to pay $100 million after the telco admitted it had engaged in unconscionable conduct involving aggressive debt collection and mis-selling to vulnerable customers.

The big issues at play

A supermarket such as Coles is entitled to raise prices.

But the question raised by this case is whether it is misleading under consumer law to advertise a discount on a product that has only briefly risen in price, using a well recognised promotion strategy, without disclosing that not so long before, it was even cheaper.

In other words, can consumers rely on the headline of a “Down Down” discount to tell them they are getting a deal? Or should they be scrutinising the fluctuations in retail pricing more carefully and shopping around?

The case continues on Tuesday.

– ref. Coles accused of ‘utterly misleading’ discounts as major court case kicks off – https://theconversation.com/coles-accused-of-utterly-misleading-discounts-as-major-court-case-kicks-off-276041

Evening Report: https://eveningreport.nz/2026/02/16/coles-accused-of-utterly-misleading-discounts-as-major-court-case-kicks-off-276041/

ANALYSIS: By Bryce Edwards

Politicians are under fire overseas. But New Zealand should take note too.

The US Justice Department’s release of more than three million Epstein files (including 180,000 images and 2000 videos) has blown the doors off the most protected social network of the late 20th century.

What these documents reveal is not just a catalogue of one man’s depravity. It is, as Helen Rumbelow wrote in The Times, like “taking the back off the world clock”, exposing how power actually works at the top of the Western world.

And the implications reach all the way to New Zealand.

New Zealand media has done useful work tracking the Kiwi names that appear in the files.

Paula Penfold at Stuff searched more than a thousand New Zealand references. Joel MacManus at The Spinoff, Ben Tomsett and Ethan Manera at The New Zealand Herald, and Steve Braunias at Newsroom have reported on the local angles — Peter Thiel’s investment relationship with Epstein, the New Zealand Defence Force couple who managed Epstein’s properties, Auckland academic Brian Boyd, physicist Lawrence Krauss and his pursuit of Epstein money for an Otago University role.

These stories matter. But the fixation on which Kiwis appear in the files misses the real story. The Epstein scandal is not fundamentally about which individuals had dinner with a monster. It is about what kind of political systems allow monsters to operate at the centre of global power for decades without consequence.

On that score, New Zealand should be paying very close attention, because our systems are weaker than those now failing spectacularly in countries around us.

The Mandelson masterclass
The most instructive case study is not American but British. The fall of Peter Mandelson (the architect of New Labour, the self-described “Prince of Darkness”) is a textbook case of how politics and money have gone rotten in liberal democracies.

The Epstein files revealed that Mandelson, while serving as “Deputy PM” to Gordon Brown, and in the position of Business Secretary, forwarded highly sensitive government tax plans to Jeffrey Epstein.

He told Epstein he was “trying hard to amend” a planned tax on bankers’ bonuses and suggested that JPMorgan’s CEO should “mildly threaten” the Chancellor to water down the policy. He gave Epstein advance notice of a €500 billion EU bailout before public announcement.

On Christmas Day, he wrote to a convicted paedophile: “I do not want to live by salary alone”.

So, a sitting Cabinet minister was leaking government intelligence to a convicted sex offender, lobbying against his own government’s financial regulation on behalf of that offender’s banking contacts, and angling for post-politics employment — all at the same time.

Within weeks of leaving office, his lobbying firm Global Counsel was chasing work with the Russian state investment fund and the state-owned China International Capital Corporation.

The Starmer government is bleeding credibility. Police opened a criminal investigation, Mandelson’s properties were searched, and yesterday Starmer’s chief of staff Morgan McSweeney resigned, saying the appointment decision “has damaged our party, our country and trust in politics itself”.

The Economist magazine has called it “Britain’s worst political scandal of this century”. UK Labour now trails Reform UK in the polls.

As former Prime Minister Gordon Brown wrote in The Guardian last Friday, in a remarkable act of public contrition: “I greatly regret this appointment . . .  He seems to have used market-sensitive inside information to betray the principles in which he said he believed”.

Brown’s piece was not merely an apology. It was a manifesto for integrity reform. Brown called for an independent anti-corruption commission with statutory powers, a fully accountable vetting system for major political appointments, mandatory parliamentary hearings for senior ambassadors and ministers, a five-year cooling-off period for former ministers entering lobbying, and the creation of corruption as a new statutory offence.

Brown argued for nothing less than a “century-defining rebalancing of power and accountability”, and he warned that without fundamental change, the revelations would be “acid in our democracy, corroding trust still further”.

Heather Stewart, writing in The Guardian, drew out the structural lesson: Mandelson’s personal disgrace is “deep and unique, and may yet bring down a prime minister — but by laying bare the dark allure of the filthy rich, it also underlines the need for tougher constraints on money in politics”.

Stewart documented how Epstein’s efforts to influence government policy — working to water down Alistair Darling’s bonus tax at a time when the banks had crashed the economy — “underline the powerful forces with which politicians are faced”.

She noted that Transparency International warned last summer: “We stand at the beginning of a new and dangerous era, where big money dominates in a way that has corroded US politics across the Atlantic”. The campaign group Spotlight on Corruption warned the current system is “full of major loopholes and gaps”.

The real takeaway is this: when it comes to money and politics, whether post-parliamentary employment, lobbying, or party funding, it is unwise to take honesty and decency as a given. As Stewart concluded: “It is not too late to pull up the drawbridge . . .  by introducing stringent new rules to protect British democracy from the malign influence of powerful companies, and dodgy billionaires”.

The global rot at the top
What is striking is the convergence. Left, right, and libertarian commentators from across the ideological spectrum are reaching the same conclusion: the Epstein network was not an aberration. It was a symptom of what happens when wealth, power, and access operate without transparency or accountability.

As Josie Pagani observed in The Post, “there appears to be a high degree of crossover between the sort of people who attend World Economic Forum jamborees at Davos, and the sort of people who hung out with Jeffrey Epstein”. The Economist noted the files read “like a ‘Who’s Who’ which has gathered only a thin layer of dust”.

These are not fringe figures being exposed. These are the people who run things.

Pratap Bhanu Mehta, a political theorist at Princeton, described the files as “a sobering x-ray of some of America’s elites — immature, full of impunity, corrupt, venal, venial, and venereal all at once”. He warned that “an elite so needy, greedy, and now so vulnerable can hardly be trusted to exercise good judgment”.

Owen Jones put it bluntly: Mandelson is “the logical culmination of the career politician, attracted to government office not because of any commitment to a set of values or public service, but simply for power, position, and profit”. Jones asked the question that should haunt every democracy: “What is being done now by ministers and politicians to secure preferment and nice jobs later?”

The Economist observed on the Epstein-Mandelson scandal that “a weakened elite is also more vulnerable to populism” and that “public opinion is less tolerant of hypocrisy than of sex scandals or corruption”. A record 43 percent of Americans surveyed by Gallup now say they have “very little faith” in big business.

The political lesson people take from the documents is broader: elites protect elites. And once voters accept that as a general pattern, they start to look at their own politics differently. They see the local versions: the donor dinners, the quietly arranged appointments, the lobbyists writing submissions, the ministers lining up post-parliament careers. They start to interpret routine insider politics as corruption-by-another-name.

So what does this mean for New Zealand?
It’s easy to shrug this off as a foreign horror story. That shrug is the vulnerability.
New Zealand has no lobbying regulations. None. No register, no code of conduct, no cooling-off period for ministers who walk out of the Beehive and into lobbying firms or corporate boardrooms.

We rank 42nd out of 48 OECD countries on lobbying transparency. NZ is ahead of only Slovakia, Luxembourg, and Turkey. Yet Justice Minister Paul Goldsmith has said lobbying reform “is not a priority”.

As The NZ Herald editorial argued on the Epstein scandal, “what this all reveals . . .  is how utterly certain those in power are that they will be protected”. That certainty, and that sense of impunity, is not confined to Manhattan townhouses and Caribbean islands. It operates wherever wealth and politics intersect without adequate transparency.

Our own political history provides uncomfortable parallels. Minister Stuart Nash was sacked in 2023 for emailing confidential Cabinet information to wealthy donors, a mini-parallel to Mandelson’s alleged leaking of market-sensitive information to Epstein.

But in Nash’s case, he lost his ministerial role without ever facing a police investigation. The structural failure is the same: the revolving door, the undisclosed lobbying, the donation loopholes, the absence of any meaningful cooling-off period.

If the Mandelson affair teaches one lesson, it is this: weak integrity systems do not just allow bad behaviour, they incentivise it. New Zealand has all of these mechanisms for embedding soft corruption, in weaker form than the UK. We rely on a “she’ll be right” attitude in place of the institutional safeguards that comparable democracies take for granted.

The example of Peter Thiel sharpens this further. Thiel is a New Zealand citizen. He is also a billionaire power broker in Silicon Valley and a funder of rightwing politics who appears prominently in the Epstein files.

That is a reminder: New Zealand has granted citizenship, and effectively social legitimacy, to a man who sits inside the very global plutocratic networks now being publicly scrutinised for moral collapse and elite impunity. Thiel is symbolic because he represents something New Zealand has not seriously confronted: the country’s relationship with the global super-rich, and the way money can smooth entry into our political community.

Meanwhile, public trust in New Zealand’s institutions has collapsed. The 2025 Edelman Trust Barometer showed New Zealand’s trust index falling below the global average for the first time: 47 percent compared to 56 percent globally. Political parties are the least trusted institution, at just 32 percent according to the OECD’s 2024 survey. And the anti-politics mood is deepening.

The recent McSkimming police corruption scandal, where a Deputy Commissioner’s misconduct was systematically covered up, has already forced a national debate about the “C-word”. The ground was prepared before the Epstein files even arrived.

An election-year wake-up call
So what happens when this mood hits an election year? November 7 is nine months away, and the Epstein scandal feeds directly into a public mood that was already getting toxic.
The danger here is not that the public demands accountability. The danger is that the public concludes accountability is impossible, because the system is so captured by insiders and vested interests that reform cannot come from within.

Scandals like this feed anti-politics. People conclude that “they’re all the same,” that it’s a rigged game, that power protects itself. But the same disgust can create reform pressure. When trust collapses, political promises about integrity stop being an optional add-on.

They become central. Voters start demanding answers: who is lobbying whom? Who is funding whom? Why do politicians leave office and immediately cash in? Why are conflicts of interest treated as personal errors rather than structural failures?

No party in New Zealand “owns” the anti-corruption space. That’s also both a vulnerability and an opening. The party or leader who takes integrity reform seriously in 2026 — who makes the lobbying register, the donation caps, the Integrity Commission a genuine campaign commitment rather than a footnote — will be tapping into something powerful and real.

The party that ignores it will be betting that public anger stays diffuse. That would be a bad bet.

The global mood of elite scepticism will shape this election whether our politicians like it or not. Voters are more suspicious than ever of cosy relationships between politicians and the wealthy. They are less willing to accept opacity, conflicts of interest, and the revolving door as the price of doing business.

Chris Trotter, writing today in The Interest, argues there are “heaps of lessons New Zealanders can learn from what is unfolding in the United Kingdom”. He is right. New Zealand has an opportunity to get ahead of the global backlash. We can build the transparency infrastructure — the lobbying register, the Integrity Commission, the cooling-off rules — that most comparable democracies already have.

Or we can keep pretending that we are too small and too decent for this kind of corruption, and wait for the next scandal to prove us wrong.

Starmer’s warning to his own cabinet, that “the public don’t really see individuals in this scandal, they see politicians”, applies here too. New Zealanders are watching the Mandelson affair, they’re reading the files, and they’re drawing the obvious conclusion: that the people who run the world are not to be trusted, and the systems meant to hold them accountable are broken.

A country can’t keep shrugging at unregulated influence while telling voters to trust the system. If New Zealand’s political class wants to avoid the kind of legitimacy collapse now unfolding overseas, the time to act is now. Not after the next (inevitable) scandal.

An immediate test
And here is the immediate test. Transparency International is releasing its annual Corruption Perceptions Index. For the last couple of decades, New Zealand’s showing in the index has been in decline. Our score has slipped from the mid-90s to 83, and our ranking has dropped to fourth globally, now seven points behind Denmark.

Will this decline continue? If it does, it will be one more data point confirming what voters already sense: that the gap between New Zealand’s self-image as a clean, transparent democracy and the reality of our thin integrity architecture is growing wider.

The Epstein files have taken the back off the world clock. New Zealanders can see the mechanism now. The question is what do we do about it?

Dr Bryce Edwards is a political commentator and analyst. He is director of the Democracy Project, focused on scrutinising and challenging the role of vested interests in the political process. Republished with the author’s permission.

Article by AsiaPacificReport.nz

Evening Report: https://eveningreport.nz/2026/02/16/bryce-edwards-what-the-epstein-scandal-means-for-nz-politics/