Corrective, Not Punitive: The New Face of Covering Up Corruption in PNG

Commentary by George Lemako

Corrective, Not Punitive: The New Face of Covering Up Corruption in PNG

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The announcement by the Papua New Guinea National Monitoring and Coordination Authority (NMCA) to audit K57.78 billion worth of government projects sounds bold on paper, but politically, it carries all the hallmarks of a government scrambling to be seen as proactive while carefully avoiding deeper truths. Prime Minister James Marape’s directive appears to be a deliberate attempt to project strength against corruption, yet the very framing of the audits as “corrective rather than punitive” reveals the weakness of the initiative. If corruption is systemic, then correction without punishment is simply an exercise in rhetoric – a toothless dog barking but never biting.

This political move must be understood in the context of rising public frustration over misuse of funds, ghost projects, and ballooning payrolls that serve individuals more than the nation. Marape’s administration has been plagued by accusations of turning a blind eye to corruption, and now, with elections approaching in the not-too-distant future, the NMCA audits conveniently signal a government claiming to take accountability seriously. Yet, accountability without consequence does not dissuade corrupt actors; instead, it reassures them that even if caught, they will be spared the harshest measures.

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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.