I’m Not Politically Neutral: And That’s the Point

For the past six years, I’ve received some pretty nasty emails telling me I’m politically compromised.

Usually, they come from the extremes: both left and right.

Though for balance: the left challenges my ideas. The right threatens my personal safety. These are not the same emails or the same messages. But, they do raise a fair question:

Am I politically neutral?

Here’s my answer.

I’m non-partisan. I’m not politically neutral. And I don’t claim to be apolitical either.

Because I don’t think either of those things are actually possible: even though many people still want to cling to the idea that they are.

And here’s the theory behind that: pretending to be politically neutral or apolitical is not just a personal stance: it’s a structural and institutional one. It is a stance that protects the status quo. It defends institutional power. It upholds dominant positions by disguising them as common sense or objectivity.

When someone says they’re being neutral, I always ask: neutral in relation to what? Whose values are being centred? Whose interests are being protected? What choices are being disguised as inevitabilities?

Neutrality often hides power. And apolitical postures tend to serve those who already have it.

That’s why I choose to be transparent about my values and commitments instead. Because neutrality, real or performed, is not the same as integrity and is not the same as ethical.

I speak and write publicly about the space between politicians and public servants: the authorising environment, the purple zone, the space between democracy and bureaucracy, or what some call the public service bargain.

Whatever you call it, it’s the zone where policy gets made, advice gets tested, and institutions either hold or bend.

It’s where ministers operate under pressure and public servants try to stay grounded in evidence and process. It’s a space I care deeply about. And I write from a mix of theory, research, and institutional practice.

I also teach and lecture on it. My PhD is on Free and Frank Advice: the heightened speaking and listening that goes on in this zone. I have lectured at a local university and run sessions on the nature of this in-between space: where the logic of politics and the logic of bureaucracy collide.

I’m not aligned with any political party. Most of my clients are in the private sector. Many are Iwi. The rest are based in Australia and across the Pacific.

Yes, I do have some public sector contracts through my company: but I’m not the sole person doing that work. I oversee several teams working under my consultancy banner. Obligations of confidentiality, privacy, and clearly declared and managed conflicts of interest support those teams.

I happen to be skilled in governance, assurance, operations, and delivery. I also happen to be able to do public policy.

I don’t write about individual politicians, and I avoid personal commentary.

But I do call out policies by extremists. I’ve been publicly critical of hard-right agendas, particularly when they’re harmful, performative, or based on ideology instead of evidence. That doesn’t make me partisan. That makes me accountable to the kind of public life I think is worth defending.

People often equate neutrality with trustworthiness. But in my experience, neutrality is often just silence, or a pose. And it can be misleading. I prefer to be upfront: to name the values I hold and the institutions I believe in.

I care about good process. I care about good advice. I care about the kind of political system we’re passing on to the next generation, and the generation after that.

That’s the lens I bring to my speaking and writing. It’s also the lens I bring to my consulting and teaching.

And I believe being transparent about all of this is what makes my work less compromised than most: not more.

So no, I’m not politically neutral.

But I am non-partisan.

And that’s exactly the point.