However, the conversation becomes more complex when considering the diverse makeup of settlement populations. On one hand are law-abiding citizens striving to maintain peace and contribute positively to their communities despite the odds. On the other are individuals who exploit the lack of regulation, engaging in unlawful activities that disrupt social order and create safety concerns.

This divide highlights a broader challenge facing urban management in Papua New Guinea. Without proper systems of identification, registration, and governance, informal settlements can become difficult to regulate. The absence of oversight not only affects security but also limits the government’s ability to deliver essential services effectively.

For eviction exercises to achieve meaningful outcomes, they must go beyond removal. Authorities need to ensure fair processes, provide adequate notice, and implement well-planned relocation strategies. Establishing structured communities with clear governance can help reduce crime, improve living standards, and support long-term urban development goals.

At its core, eviction should not be seen purely as a punitive measure but as part of a broader strategy to restore order and promote sustainable growth. While the process is undoubtedly challenging, it remains a necessary step in addressing the long-standing issues associated with unregulated settlements.

As Papua New Guinea continues to urbanise, confronting lawlessness and disorder within informal communities is critical. Decisive and responsible action today will help shape safer, more organised cities for future generations.

Commentary by George Lemako
Prime Minister James Marape has begun setting the stage for the 2027 National Elections, promising a “credible and secure polling process” and asserting that the government’s role is limited to supporting logistics and security. On paper, it is a reassuring message, but for many Papua New Guineans, it rings like a replay of 2022—a time when promises of fair elections collapsed under the weight of manipulation and government overreach.

In 2019, Marape came to power with vows to improve the integrity of PNG’s elections. Yet, by 2022, his government had already demonstrated a troubling approach: live videos emerged showing ballots being signed and tallied before the official process was completed, with state machinery effectively used to secure outcomes favorable to the ruling party. Observers and opposition figures called it a hijack of democracy, and the patterns suggest that history could repeat itself in 2027.

Despite now emphasizing collaboration with the Electoral Commission and security agencies, Marape’s assurances of neutrality should be treated with caution. Electoral reforms and operational improvements are not inherently trustworthy if the government maintains the power to influence outcomes behind the scenes. The very agencies tasked with logistics and protection risk becoming tools to manipulate, rather than safeguard, the vote.

Marape’s statements about protecting voters, candidates, and election officials, and ensuring the “people’s choices are respected,” may inspire public optimism. However, the lived experience of 2022 tells a different story: when state actors intervene, security personnel are deployed selectively, and ballots are processed under government supervision, the lines between protection and political interference blur dangerously.
Moreover, his call for citizens to “choose peace over conflict” and resolve disputes through dialogue contrasts sharply with the confrontational tactics witnessed in the last elections. Opposition candidates were sidelined, and in some cases, local communities reported intimidation and interference, undermining both trust and democratic participation.

Political analysts warn that without independent oversight, transparent monitoring, and clear accountability, Marape’s pledges are unlikely to prevent another hijack. Strengthening election systems must go beyond logistics—it requires a genuine separation of state power from electoral operations. Without this, elections may be “secured” in name, but manipulated in reality.
The pattern is clear: history shows a leader willing to use state structures to influence outcomes, and rhetoric that promises credibility may serve only as a pretext. As PNG moves toward 2027, vigilance from civil society, the Electoral Commission, and international observers will be essential to ensure that the democratic process is protected—not hijacked once again.
For many Papua New Guineans, the 2027 elections are not just about ballots—they are a test of whether promises of democracy can survive the shadow of government control. Marape’s words offer hope, but past actions demand scrutiny. Without systemic reforms and genuine accountability, PNG risks repeating the same democratic failures of 2022.

Resources and oversight are shockingly limited. The unit is trained for combat and high‑risk raids, but it lacks the forensic tools, investigative staff, and accountability mechanisms necessary to tackle corruption or crime at its source. What it has is muscle — and that muscle is often used selectively, not impartially.

Reports and public perception suggest a troubling pattern: Kumul Force‑23 is deployed when elites or politicians feel threatened, not when ordinary communities suffer. Villages continue to be armed and terrorised, while the unit carries out high-profile operations designed more for political theatre than for law enforcement.

Worse, the force has a history of being used as a tool for hire. Allegations of intimidation, targeted killings, and enforcement on behalf of the politically connected have surfaced, showing that Kumul Force‑23 can be repurposed as a weapon to silence opposition and shield corruption.

This divide-and-rule approach is deliberate. The public is distracted by raids, arrests, and the fear of violence, while the real culprits — those funding weapons and profiting from instability — remain hidden. The Highlands stay armed, families remain broken, and the cycle of lawlessness continues unchecked.

Kumul Force‑23 is not a solution to PNG’s security problems. It is a symptom of political decay: a government choosing militarised appearances over institutional reform, lethal force over investigative justice, and public distraction over accountability.

If Papua New Guinea is serious about peace and progress, it must dismantle this façade. The real fight is not against armed villagers — it is against the corrupt networks, the politicians, and the elites who profit from chaos. Until that happens, Kumul Force‑23 will remain what it was always meant to be: a government hit squad hiding corruption behind a mask of authority.

Commentary by George Lemako,

The talk of a looming cabinet reshuffle by Prime Minister James Marape sounds less like leadership and more like political theatre. After nearly seven years in power, reshuffling ministers now cannot erase the deep damage already inflicted on governance in Papua New Guinea. A reshuffle may change faces, but it does not correct years of tolerated incompetence and failed decision-making at the highest level.

Since 2019, the Marape-led government has presided over widespread dysfunction across public institutions. Government departments remain weak, uncoordinated, and ineffective, while social indicators continue to decline. These realities point to a leadership crisis that has been allowed to grow unchecked. Responsibility for this cannot be shifted to individual ministers alone — it rests squarely with the Prime Minister who appointed and retained them.

The administration has also pushed through controversial constitutional amendments that many believe undermine democratic principles. Instead of strengthening institutions, these changes appear designed to consolidate political control. At the same time, grand programs promoted as nation-building solutions, such as the Connect PNG initiative, have failed to produce visible, broad-based development, raising questions about planning, execution, and accountability.

Equally troubling is the scale of government borrowing under the current leadership. An estimated K60 billion has been accumulated with little to show in terms of lasting infrastructure or improved public services. For ordinary citizens, rising debt has translated into higher living costs and growing uncertainty about the country’s financial future, while promised economic transformation remains largely out of reach.

Political instability has further eroded confidence in governance. The deaths of 19 sitting MPs during this period, frequent political manoeuvring, and the removal of experienced officials from key positions have disrupted continuity in leadership. Selective warranting and perceived favouritism have reinforced the view that loyalty now outweighs merit in public administration.

Even more concerning is the perception that investigative and accountability institutions have been weakened or pressured into silence. Bodies meant to safeguard transparency and hold leaders accountable appear constrained, allowing misconduct to go unchecked. When institutions are weaponised for political survival, national development plans inevitably fail, no matter how ambitious they appear on paper.

At this stage, a cabinet reshuffle offers little more than symbolism. The problems facing Papua New Guinea are structural, systemic, and rooted in leadership failure. The damage has already been done. For many citizens, the only meaningful act of responsibility left is for Prime Minister Marape to step aside, allowing the country a chance to reset its leadership and restore trust in government.

Parkop’s intervention was not merely political theatre; it was a reminder that PNG has yet to address many of the most basic issues that continue to cripple the integrity of its elections. He highlighted persistent challenges such as hijacking of ballot boxes, inconsistent enforcement of the one-voter-one-vote system, and the controversial use of “special circumstances” to justify administrative decisions that often raise more questions than answers. These recurring failures suggest an electoral machinery still struggling to function without external pressure.

The Governor also raised serious concerns about women’s ability to freely exercise their voting rights — an issue that has plagued elections across the country for years. Intimidation, violence, and manipulation at polling sites disproportionately prevent women from casting their ballots. If the government cannot guarantee a safe voting environment for half its population, claims of democratic fairness ring hollow.

Another sensitive issue Parkop referenced was the engagement of overseas security forces in previous elections. While their involvement has sometimes been necessary due to local capacity limitations, it also signals a fundamental weakness in PNG’s own security framework. As the 2027 elections approach, the public still has no clear answer on whether the state has strengthened its own security forces or whether it will once again rely on foreign personnel. This lingering uncertainty only adds to the perception of unpreparedness.

Minister Masere’s response in Parliament on Friday did little to calm these concerns. While he acknowledged the issues raised, he failed to present anything resembling a detailed plan. With less than two years to prepare, vague reassurances fall far short of what is needed. Election readiness requires more than rhetoric — it demands a roadmap, funding, and timelines. None of these were made clear.

This lack of clarity inevitably raises a deeper question: Is the ruling party genuinely preparing the country for a credible election, or is it quietly shaping the electoral environment to its advantage? The absence of transparency, combined with past election irregularities, fuels suspicion. Ballot box tampering, selective deployment of security personnel, and unexplained delays in counting have left many Papua New Guineans questioning the neutrality of the process.

If the government is serious about restoring public trust, it must prove that it is strengthening institutions, not exerting control over them. The Electoral Commission must operate independently and be adequately funded. Security forces must be neutral and professional. And election procedures must be applied consistently, not selectively.

In the end, PNG’s readiness for the 2027 elections will be judged not by speeches in Parliament, but by actions taken in the coming months. Parkop’s concerns serve as a timely warning: democracy is not sustained by habit, but by vigilance, transparency, and the courage to correct systemic failures. Unless decisive steps are taken now, the nation risks heading into yet another election overshadowed by controversy, doubt, and preventable chaos.

​By Sam Koim, OBE

​Papua New Guinea’s anti-corruption movement has entered a critical juncture, with the ongoing controversy surrounding the Independent Commission Against Corruption (ICAC) raising both public concern and political debate. As the Prime Minister and two Deputy Commissioners trade accusations, confusion has emerged over whether the issue is political interference, institutional failure, or a mix of both. Having long been involved in the fight against corruption and the establishment of ICAC’s foundations, I offer this commentary not as a partisan argument, but as a fact-based, historically grounded analysis — a debate between myth and reality.

1. The Central Question — Political Will or Leadership Failure?At the heart of this debate lies a single question: Is the current ICAC saga a reflection of fading political will, or is it a crisis of leadership within the institution itself? Experience from global anti-corruption models such as Singapore’s CPIB and Hong Kong’s ICAC shows that political will is indispensable. Without it, no anti-corruption body can thrive. Yet, political will alone cannot substitute for competence and delivery. Governments demonstrate commitment not merely by words but by law, funding, and credible appointments. PNG has shown such will — but its translation into results depends on the institution’s operational leadership.

2. Historical Context — From Coordination to ConstitutionPNG’s journey did not start with ICAC. It began modestly with the National Anti-Corruption Coordination Authority (NACA), which lacked legal authority and funding. Its successor, Task Force Sweep (TFS), was empowered by government mandate, equipped with resources, and delivered results swiftly — securing convictions, recovering funds, and proving that corruption can be confronted with determination and mandate. However, TFS’s abrupt dismantling in 2014 revealed a harsh truth: without constitutional protection, anti-corruption efforts are vulnerable to political tides. ICAC was designed precisely to overcome this fragility.

3. The Birth of ICAC — A Politically Backed InstitutionIn 2014, under Peter O’Neill’s government, Parliament amended the Constitution to create ICAC as a permanent body. The enabling law came in 2020 under James Marape’s government, representing bipartisan continuity rarely seen in PNG politics. The Appointment Committee — comprising the Prime Minister, Opposition Leader, Chief Justice, and others — was intentionally bipartisan. Three commissioners, all expatriates, were sworn in mid-2023, supported by an initial funding package of about K60 million. This was coupled with the Whistleblower Protection Act and other complementary reforms. By all structural indicators, ICAC began its life with unprecedented legal strength and political support.

4. The Independence Debate — Political Interference or Institutional Inertia?Critics argue that the government has interfered with ICAC’s independence. Yet, evidence for this claim remains elusive. The law prohibits direct executive involvement in ICAC operations, staffing, or investigations. Unless proof emerges, narratives of “political control” remain speculative. The greater issue appears to be inertia — two years after establishment, ICAC has not produced visible operational results. Task Force Sweep, by comparison, began investigations within weeks. If ICAC’s leadership has the mandate, funding, and independence it claims, the absence of results cannot be blamed solely on politics. Institutional autonomy brings with it institutional accountability.

5. Internal Breakdown — The Leadership CrisisThe current conflict between the Commissioner and two Deputy Commissioners exposes a deeper malaise. Public airing of grievances among senior officials has undermined confidence in an institution meant to embody integrity. Leadership divisions have frozen operations and distracted from the Commission’s mandate. In any organisation, such dysfunction reflects a breakdown of governance. The Appointment Committee’s intervention, including suspensions, while controversial, may have been unavoidable. Still, fairness demands due process — a tribunal must be convened promptly to hear the suspended officers’ cases and prevent ICAC from drifting further into disrepute.

6. Accountability — Where Responsibility Ultimately LiesHere lies the crux of the debate. When an institution is provided with constitutional backing, adequate resources, and freedom from interference, its success or failure rests with its leadership. Political leaders enable; institutional heads execute. Drawing from personal experience leading Task Force Sweep and the Internal Revenue Commission (IRC), I can affirm that while political will sets direction, operational performance depends entirely on the institution’s head. Once authority and funding are secured, the burden of delivery shifts. If ICAC has failed to deliver, its leadership must bear responsibility, not merely the government that created it.

7. The Path Forward — Restoring Confidence and ResultsPNG’s anti-corruption evolution — from NACA to Task Force Sweep to ICAC — represents decades of progress. The current impasse should not erase that achievement. It must instead prompt reflection on how to realign leadership, reassert purpose, and restore credibility. The fight against corruption is not owned by one administration or one leader. It is a national enterprise. The next phase must focus on results: investigations, prosecutions, and deterrence. The tribunal for the suspended commissioners must proceed swiftly, ensuring justice and stability.

Ultimately, the debate over ICAC’s performance is not about whether the government supports anti-corruption — it clearly has. The issue now is whether those entrusted with independence can translate authority into action. Political will built the institution; leadership must now make it work.

Yes, political interference has marred investigations before. The Manu Manu land deal is a prime example where senior figures allegedly escaped accountability because files were closed or blocked. But these failures do not justify sidelining the entire Constabulary. Instead of writing off the police, Papua New Guinea should be demanding reforms, stronger oversight, and accountability mechanisms that restore the police to their rightful role as guardians of justice.

The contradiction in the directive cannot be ignored. Citizens are warned not to lodge complaints with police headquarters, yet ICAC is said to “collaborate” with the Fraud Squad. If police are too compromised to take complaints, how are they trustworthy enough to assist ICAC? This doublespeak undermines both institutions, leaving citizens confused and uncertain about where to turn.

Relying solely on ICAC to lead the fight against corruption risks creating a dangerous dependency. ICAC was never meant to replace the police but to strengthen the fight against corruption alongside them. When citizens are directed away from the police, it signals a country where the traditional enforcers of justice have been sidelined, leaving only one institution to carry a burden too heavy for it alone.

Whistleblowers must be protected, and evidence must be secured, but the solution is not to abandon the RPNGC. If the police are weak, they must be fixed. If senior officers are compromised, they must be removed. A democratic state cannot function when its people are told the police cannot be trusted. The fight against corruption cannot be won by discrediting one institution to elevate another—it requires strong, independent police working hand in hand with ICAC.

Papua New Guinea must confront the hard reality: when the police are toothless, the politicians become untouchable. If we do not restore integrity to our Constabulary, no commission, however independent, will be able to stand alone against the tide of corruption that continues to rob this country of its future.

Also read

• Broken Harvest: PNG PM Marape’s Grand Agricultural Promise Wilts By 2025​

Marape was correct to highlight the country’s potential, noting that some indigenous rice species are indeed native to PNG. However, potential alone is not progress. Without serious investment in irrigation, infrastructure, and farming technology, the dream of commercial-scale rice farming has stayed largely on paper. Farmers across the country still struggle with inadequate roads, limited market access, and a lack of affordable financing—obstacles that cannot be overcome by speeches alone.

The government’s failure to deliver on this promise raises uncomfortable questions about leadership credibility. Announcing sweeping reforms without clear implementation strategies erodes public trust. Citizens now recall Marape’s 2020 declaration not as a turning point, but as another instance where political promises outpaced reality. For many, the Prime Minister’s words now ring hollow, reinforcing a perception of a leader more skilled in grand statements than tangible outcomes.

Critics argue that the administration missed an opportunity to diversify the economy and strengthen food security, especially as global supply chains faced disruptions in recent years. Instead of capitalizing on a favorable moment to boost local agriculture, the government has presided over persistent dependence on imports, exposing households to price shocks and currency fluctuations. This failure underscores a lack of coordinated planning and sustained policy support for the rural majority who form the backbone of PNG’s food system.

As Papua New Guinea marks its 50th year of independence, the contrast between Marape’s 2020 vision and present reality is striking. The gap is not merely economic; it is symbolic of broader governance challenges where grand pronouncements rarely translate into lived improvements for citizens. For a nation proud of its natural abundance and resilient farmers, the continuation of heavy food imports is a disappointment that could have been avoided with decisive leadership and accountability.
Ultimately, Marape’s unfulfilled promise stands as a cautionary tale. Ambition must be matched by execution, and trust is earned through delivery, not declarations. Papua New Guineans deserve more than lofty words; they deserve a government that turns national potential into practical achievements. Until that shift occurs, the Prime Minister’s vow of agricultural independence by 2025 will remain, in the eyes of many, another broken promise.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the writer and do not represent or reflect the views of pngfacts.com.

Also read

• Corrective, Not Punitive: The New Face Of Covering Up Corruption In PNG

The language from NMCA chief executive David Wereh underscores this contradiction. He speaks of restoring order, discipline, and transparency – all noble ideals. But by insisting the audits are not punitive, he inadvertently tells corrupt officials that they are safe. For years, ghost names on the Alesco Payroll System and inflated contracts have drained billions from the national purse. If the only outcome of these audits is a report of “systemic weaknesses,” then corruption will remain intact, protected by political interests unwilling to upset entrenched networks of patronage.

Marape’s government has frequently turned to high-sounding initiatives to create the image of reform. The invocation of Vision 2050 and MTDP IV reflects this tendency: branding audits as part of long-term plans rather than urgent crackdowns. But real reform requires accountability mechanisms that bite. Audits that merely catalogue failures without prosecuting those responsible are little more than bureaucratic showpieces, giving cover to the same officials accused of negligence or theft. The people are tired of announcements; they demand results.

The decision to audit over K57 billion in projects may expose stalled and mismanaged initiatives, but will the government act on what is revealed? The history of Papua New Guinea’s anti-corruption drives suggests otherwise. Time and again, audits and commissions of inquiry have exposed shocking levels of abuse, only for reports to gather dust or be buried by political interference. Without an independent prosecutorial mechanism tied to these audits, the NMCA risks becoming another ceremonial watchdog without fangs.

Politically, this move allows Marape to deflect criticism. He can point to the audits as evidence of commitment to good governance while simultaneously shielding his administration from accusations of inaction. By classifying the exercise as “corrective,” he reduces political risk: punishing corrupt allies could fracture his fragile coalition, but corrective language ensures unity. This is less about uprooting corruption than about managing optics and controlling the narrative.

The Alesco Payroll audit is particularly telling. For years, stories of ghost employees have circulated, draining millions of kina while genuine service delivery crumbles. Yet, why has it taken until now for a “serious” audit to begin? The timing raises suspicions that this is more about placating public outrage than addressing the rot. If the audit uncovers thousands of ghost names but no prosecutions follow, the exercise will merely confirm what citizens already know: corruption thrives because the state lacks the political will to punish it.

Another dimension is the role of transparency. Wereh promises that final reports will be made public, but history teaches caution. Previous audit findings have often been classified, delayed, or sanitized before release. Unless citizens and civil society are allowed unrestricted access to raw findings, there is every chance that damaging revelations could be softened to protect political figures. This undermines the credibility of the entire process before it even begins.

Moreover, audits cannot exist in a vacuum. They must be followed by systemic reforms in procurement, project implementation, payroll management, and oversight. Without institutional change, corruption networks simply adapt, finding new ways to siphon public funds. If the NMCA’s role is restricted to compiling findings, it risks becoming a bureaucratic layer that papers over problems rather than solving them. Worse, it may give the illusion of reform while corruption deepens in less visible corners.

Ultimately, the NMCA’s audits represent a political performance disguised as reform. By declaring them non-punitive, the government signals weakness rather than strength. The metaphor of a toothless barking dog is apt: it makes noise, it attracts attention, but it cannot bite. True accountability demands both corrective and punitive measures. Unless prosecutions follow and powerful figures are held to account, Papua New Guinea’s citizens will see this as yet another cycle of empty promises. The cost is not just wasted money but eroded trust in a government that claims to serve the people while protecting the corrupt.

Governor Allan Bird has unleashed a stinging warning to Papua New Guineans, declaring that the nation is being deceived by cunning politicians who shamelessly exploit the name of Jesus Christ for their own selfish gain. In a fiery commentary, Bird said too many leaders are weaponizing faith to manipulate innocent Christians while looting the country blind.
According to Bird, politicians have discovered the ultimate trick: invoke “Jesus,” wave the Bible, or mention “Israel” and instantly the people drop their guard. “Our first love – Jesus Christ – is being used against us. PNG Christians are being played like fools,” Bird declared.

The Governor pointed to Scripture itself, saying the Bible warns against false prophets and deceivers who masquerade as angels of light. Yet, he said, many churchgoing Christians in PNG ignore these red flags and blindly follow politicians whose “works” clearly lead only to corruption, poverty, and destruction.
“What more evidence do we need?” Bird asked. “Look at the results of their leadership. They enrich themselves while you stay poor. And still, you applaud them because they pray loudly in public and parade through churches!”
He said that true Christians should rise up and reclaim the sanctity of their faith, instead of allowing opportunists to weaponize God’s name as a political shield. “It’s time to wake up,” Bird thundered. “Take back your beliefs from tricksters who are using Christ to fool you.”
Bird also stressed that unlike his peers, he has never mixed the pulpit with politics. “I have never used the Bible or God’s name to justify myself. I do not believe faith should be prostituted for politics,” he said.
His final call was blunt: PNG must end this cycle of deception once and for all. “Wake up, Christians. Don’t let them use your love for Christ to rob you of your future.”

Also read

• ​PNG Opposition Leadership Dispute Taken to Supreme Court
• PNG Barramundis Player Faces UK Court on Robbery Charge, Team Stays on Task
• ​Papua New Guinea Warned of Possible FATF Grey Listing
• ​East Sepik Governor Urges Leaders to Act, Not Just Apologise on Repentance Day