Off the Top of My Head
By Paul Murray
***Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised that this article contains names, images and voices of people who have died.***
Australian Rules Football is a spectacular spectator sport, and the most popular game in sports-mad Australia, and Aboriginal players command the field, provide much of the on-field entertainment and dominate AFL highlight reels with their uncanny athletic ability, superior game sense and footy IQ.
Some moments in Australian rules football demand a replay. Then watch it again, because the first viewing doesn’t explain the play, and Aboriginal players feature in these moments more than most.
When Eddie Betts slots another goal from an angle a Pythagoras would struggle to calculate, and Cyril Rioli robs a player who thought he was alone. When Michael Mitchell climbs onto his opponent’s shoulders, briefly inspects the weather above the MCG and lands with the ball, and when Buddy Franklin takes possession, spins, turns, dodges and sprints into space to snap another incredible goal…these are the moments that make footy such a great spectator sport.
Aboriginal footballers have supplied Australian football with an extraordinary share of hold-my-beer moments. But the highlight reel, magnificent as it is, tells only part of the story. There are innovators, leaders, campaigners, teachers and families behind these sport stars. There is also a game that has sometimes been much quicker to applaud Aboriginal brilliance than to listen to Aboriginal people.
The Numbers Behind The Noise
Looking at the numbers, in 2026, the AFL reported 66 First Nations players among 813 men on club lists: approximately 8.1 per cent. The Australian Bureau of Statistics estimated Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people at 3.8 per cent of Australia’s population at 30 June 2021. Assuming that the male-female ratio is 50/50, Aboriginal males make up approximately 1.9% of the Australian population. That is roughly one person in 52 nationally. The AFL has one listed male footballer for every 12 players.
Aboriginal player representation on men’s AFL lists is entirely disproportionate to their share of the population by a measure of about 4:1.
Before Television Rights
Australian football took shape in Melbourne in 1858, with the Melbourne Football Club’s first written rules drawn up in 1859 by a group including Thomas Wentworth Wills. The VFL began in 1897 and became the AFL in 1990. The sport is much older, and much broader, than the competition now selling the advertising space. Wills’ place in the story is established. The influences that shaped his thinking remain debated.
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Wills)
Marngrook, a traditional Aboriginal ball game associated particularly with south-eastern Australia, involved kicking and catching, including high leaps. Wills grew up among Aboriginal communities in western Victoria before attending Rugby School in England. The possible connection is neither a modern marketing invention nor a settled historical equation.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=19354936
The Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders discusses historian Jenny Hocking’s research into Johnny Connolly’s account of Aboriginal football in the district where Wills spent his childhood. That strengthens the evidence that the game was present in his surroundings. Historians disagree about whether, and how directly, it influenced the rules he helped write. No surviving declaration from Wills conveniently explains which elements came from where.
We should take Aboriginal testimony and knowledge seriously without pretending a disputed question has been settled by an enthusiastic caption. Aboriginal football traditions existed; their precise contribution to the codified game remains contested. The absence of a neat colonial paper trail should not be an invitation to erase their history.
A sport that now requires an entire television panel to decide whether somebody moved sideways off the mark would perhaps like a tidier birth certificate, however, it would seem that history has declined to provide one.
Who Was the First Aboriginal AFL?
For the VFL/AFL competition, the first recognised Aboriginal player was Joe Johnson, who debuted for Fitzroy on 7 May 1904. He played 55 games and won premierships in 1904 and 1905. Two flags in his first two seasons…an achievement St Kilda supporters may find personally offensive.
But Johnson was not the first known Aboriginal man to play senior Australian football in Victoria. Albert “Pompey” Austin played for Geelong against Carlton on 25 May 1872, before the VFL existed. The Victorian Government’s account records that he played without boots.
Both belong in the story. Calling Austin the first AFL player puts him in a league that did not yet exist. Starting everything with Johnson overlooks an earlier pioneer.
Sir Doug Nicholls followed at Fitzroy in the 1930s. A footballer, pastor and campaigner for Aboriginal rights, he became Governor of South Australia in 1976—the first Aboriginal person to hold an Australian state governorship. The round bearing his name honours a life far bigger than a football career.
These men entered football from an Australia that restricted Aboriginal lives through discriminatory laws and institutions. Getting selected to play footy did not magically leave that racist society outside the changing-room door.
Polly Changed The Instructions
Graham “Polly” Farmer did more than perform the game beautifully. He helped change how it was played. A dominant ruckman in Western Australia and at Geelong, Farmer made handball an attacking weapon. He helped demonstrate that a quick, precise handpass could release a teammate and open the field rather than merely dispose of an inconvenience. His career included Geelong’s 1963 premiership, three Sandover Medals and an influence that travelled far beyond his own possession count.
The modern game’s chains of movement owe something to players prepared to imagine another way. Farmer belongs among those architects. Calling him a gifted athlete is accurate; leaving it there misses the football brain behind his on-field brilliance.
Syd Jackson brought skill and composure to Carlton’s premiership teams, including the famous 1970 comeback. Jim and Phil Krakouer later arrived at North Melbourne from Claremont, playing with telepathic communication that confounded defenders.
The temptation is to call everything instinctive. Sometimes it was anticipation developed through years of playing together, reading bodies, recognising space and practising until a difficult skill looked casual. “Natural talent” can be a compliment that glosses over the work rate and skill level of Aboriginal players.
The WAFL, SANFL, Northern Territory competitions and community clubs matter here. Aboriginal football history did not begin whenever a Victorian recruiter finally noticed somebody.
The Replay Button Takes A Hiding
Michael Mitchell’s 1990 season offers a useful demonstration of the range. He won both Mark of the Year and Goal of the Year, which was the first and only time thus far that a player has won both gongs in the same season.. Against Fitzroy, he climbed above Brett Stephens and completed a juggling one-handed grab. Against Sydney, he carried the ball on a seven-bounce run from half-back before kicking a fine goal from inside the 50-metre line.
Whoops…Wrong mark…
Peter Matera’s running and long kicking helped West Coast claim the 1992 premiership. His five goals from a wing earned the Norm Smith Medal. He combined speed with purpose to humiliate defenders and immortalise them in historical highlight reels.
Michael Long’s celebrated running goal in the 1993 Grand Final remains essential viewing. Carlton’s Stephen Silvagni’s still cliams that he touched it on the line, but Long’s speed, balance and nerve are visible regardless of your preferred interpretation of the final few centimetres. Football would lose several productive decades of conversation if everybody agreed!
Andrew McLeod was best on ground in Adelaide’s 1997 and 1998 Grand Final victories. He made space appear where a moment earlier there had been traffic. You could watch the same passage twice and still wonder why everybody else had chosen the crowded route.
Jeff Farmer, “The Wizard”, and Leon Davis, “Neon Leon”, supplied their own catalogues of inventive finishing and aerial cheek. Michael O’Loughlin combined wonderful touch with the sharp judgement of a dangerous forward. These were different players, doing different jobs, rather than examples of one supposedly universal Aboriginal playing style.
Then there is Eddie Betts…Betts won Goal of the Year four times. The front pocket at Adelaide Oval became known as “Eddie’s pocket,” a place from which conventional football geometry didn’t apply. The pocket rocket dodged, weaved, turned opponents inside out and snapped six pointers from seemingly impossible angles on a regular basis. His goals were initially considered “flukes,” because they didn’t seem physicaly possible, but Eddie owned the pocket and filled stadiums every Saturday with fans eagre to witness some Eddie Betts magic. His boundary-line finishing was wonderful theatre, but his timing, balance and control deserve as much attention as the delighted disbelief in his uncanny talent.
Cyril Rioli could have relatively few possessions and still leave fingerprints everywhere. His defensive work deserves its own reel: the chase, the tackle, the recovery and the little handball that suddenly made a teammate dangerous. In the 2015 Grand Final he won the Norm Smith Medal, following his uncles Maurice Rioli and Michael Long into that particular family business.
When asked about sharing the achievement of four premierships with Shaun Burgoyne, Cyril jokingly replied with an excellent retort, “Does he have a ‘Norm’?”
Burgoyne had plenty else. His 407-game career included four premierships across Port Adelaide and Hawthorn. Nicknamed “Silk,” he offered a particularly elegant demonstration that sound decisions under pressure can look way calmer than the situation would seem to require. Longevity, preparation and versatility belong in any account of Aboriginal excellence too.
Buddy Franklin finished his spectacular career with 1,066 goals, four Coleman Medals and eight All-Australian selections. His thousandth, at the SCG in 2022, brought spectators pouring onto the ground from all directions. Security protocols were set aside as there was no way the crowd could be restrained as they flocked to the full-forward position to congratulate Lance “Buddy”Franklin’s incredible achievement.
Franklin was a towering forward who could accelerate away from trouble and kick from distances that invited disbelief. Betts operated closer to the ground and often closer to the fence. Goodes could ruck, run through midfield and go forward. Their excellence was immense; their games were not interchangeable. Football legend “Lethal” Leigh Matthews said of Franklin, “He’s a player whose done the very good very often and done the remarkable regularly.” Here is a tribute to Buddy from another goal-kicking great Matthew Lloyd.
Full Medal Cabinets
Gavin Wanganeen became the first Aboriginal Brownlow medallist in 1993. Adam Goodes won in 2003 and 2006. The Brownlow recognises the home-and-away season’s fairest and best; the Norm Smith recognises the Grand Final’s best player. Different assignments, equally serious company.
The Aboriginal Norm Smith roll includes Maurice Rioli (1982), Peter Matera (1992), Michael Long (1993), Andrew McLeod (1997 and 1998), Byron Pickett (2004), Cyril Rioli (2015), Bobby Hill (2023) and Shai Bolton (2026). McLeod’s double is worth lingering over. Performing when a premiership is on the line is difficult enough without making a habit of it.
Bolton’s latest addition came in Fremantle’s losing Grand Final side, echoing Maurice Rioli’s distinction in 1982. A magnificent individual performance can still leave a footballer wanting the other medal. As Bolton put it: “You don’t really play (for individual honours), you play to win premierships.”
The next generation of Aboriginal playwers are already lighting up the field with their insane talent. Five First Nations players made the 2026 All-Australian team: Wayne Milera, Jarman Impey, Kysaiah Pickett, Nasiah Wanganeen-Milera and Bolton. Wanganeen-Milera’s ability to see a pass and execute it is offering Saints supporters reason to believe, hope and dream of an elusive premiership cup. Hope is a renewable resource for St Kildab fans and Nasiah is our Messiah.
Let’s not forget the women of the AFLW. Brisbane’s Ally Anderson won the AFLW competition best-and-fairest award in season seven of 2022. Aboriginal excellence is not confined the men.
The Jumper Goes Up
On 17 April 1993, after St Kilda played Collingwood at Victoria Park, Nicky Winmar lifted his jumper and pointed at his skin in response to racist abuse. Wayne Ludbey’s photograph captured a gesture that became part of Australia’s national memory.
“I’m black and I’m proud to be black.”
Before the symbol, there was the footballer: a beautifully balanced, skilful and courageous player. We should remember the marks and the kicking alongside the stand. Nobody should need to endure abuse to secure their place in history.
Two years later, Long challenged the racial abuse directed at him during the ANZAC Day match against Collingwood. His action helped bring about the AFL’s 1995 racial and religious vilification rule. Introduced as Rule 30, it later became Rule 35, the Peek Rule. Aboriginal players were helping change the equity under which the game is played, as well as the score.
Goodes’ treatment exposed how much remained unresolved. He challenged a racist slur in 2013, spoke publicly about racism and faced relentless booing, particularly during his final season in 2015. In 2019, the AFL and all 18 clubs apologised for failing to support him adequately.
People can debate an individual free kick until the pub shuts, but sustained hostility towards a player who has spoken about racism deserves honest scrutiny and fair consideration about a change in the way Aboriginal playesrs are treated on and off field, by the media, spectators, football commentators and the general public.
Goodes’ own measure of a life was larger than the game and he said, “If people only remember me for my football, I’ve failed in life.” From a man with two Brownlows and two premierships, that is a powerful statement.
The Hawthorn controversy also belongs in an honest account. Former Indigenous players and family members raised serious allegations about their treatment. Alastair Clarkson, Chris Fagan and Jason Burt denied wrongdoing; the AFL investigation ended in 2023 without adverse findings against them. A later Federal Court proceeding against Hawthorn settled in 2024 without a determination of the parties’ allegations. Hawthorn apologised for the hurt and distress experienced by former players and their families. A settlement is not a court finding proving every allegation—or disproving it.
The point extends beyond one club. Recruiting someone’s football ability brings responsibilities towards the person, including respect for family and culture. The AFL has made significant progress in recognising Aboriginal culture and players rights with the Indigenous Round, which features Aborigional players and has the entire team wearing jumpers designed by an Aboriginal artist. Officially known as the Sir Doug Nicholls Round, it celebrats and honours the extraordinary contributions of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander players and their culture and communities to AFL, but more is needed than a guernsey design to eliminate racism from sport and Australian society.
Addressing AFL Inequality and the Provision of Opportunities for Young indigenous Players
There are practical initiatives underway. The Flying Boomerangs and Woomeras programs provide development opportunities for young First Nations boys and girls. The pathway also includes Indigenous Academies for older teenagers, and the 2026 Flying Boomerangs camp combined football with social, emotional and cultural wellbeing sessions.
Former players are helping deliver it. The 2026 Flying Boomerangs coaching group included Roger Hayden, Chad Wingard, Nakia Cockatoo and Jake Neade. Young players can learn from people who understand both the game and parts of the journey from personal experience.
The AFL has announced optional extra First Nations rookie-list places for both AFL and AFLW clubs from 2027, alongside cultural-capability standards. It has also set a target of 111 First Nations players across the two competitions by 2030. Those are announced measures and targets, rather than outcomes achieved.
The women’s figures show why a blanket celebration would be premature: the latest summit release lists 22 First Nations players among 575 AFLW players, approximately 3.8 per cent. That is roughly the national population share, and markedly below the men’s. Different denominators and different dates need to stay visible.
Access is only the beginning. Clubs also need to make it possible for players to remain, develop and belong. That means listening to players and families, responding seriously to racism and recognising that moving away from the bush to the city involves much more than a change of address.
Beyond The Final Siren
Michael Long’s activism grew into The Long Walk, taking Aboriginal concerns into a national conversation and continuing through education and community work. The Michael Long Learning and Leadership Centre also uses his standing to create opportunities for young people.
Adam Goodes and Michael O’Loughlin co-founded the GO Foundation with James Gallichan. Its educational scholarships support Indigenous students from school through to university. The ambition extends well beyond producing footballers.
The Polly Farmer Foundation’s Follow the Dream program provides educational support, tuition and mentoring. Farmer’s influence continues in classrooms as well as on the football field.
Eddie Betts has built a foundation and youth football academy combining development on the field with education, leadership and wellbeing. His books and other work have also taken messages about kindness and respect to children. The conjurer who specialised in creating on-field magic is helping to expand the issue of racial equity and achieving recognition for Aboriginal people in AFL and Australian society.
If AFL’s only measure of success is whether a child gets drafted, it has set a very narrow goal. Education, confidence, strong cultural identity and options beyond sport matter for the many young people whose futures will take them somewhere else.
More Than A Highlight Reel
Aboriginal footballers have helped Australian rules become faster, smarter, more inventive and thrilling. They have also challenged it to become fairer. Some of that work has carried a cost no player should have had to pay.
Calling the skill “magic” is an understandable response from the couch. Watch closely and there is intelligence in it: the reading of a bounce, the weight of a kick, the decision to chase, the timing of a leap and understanding the ball and how it behaves. There are hours of practice, family encouragement and community football behind those on-field moments that seem effortless.
Australia has been extraordinarily fortunate that so many First Nations people have chosen to bring their gifts to this game. A proper thank-you involves enjoying the football and respecting the people who produce it—especially when they have something uncomfortable to say.
By all means, watch Eddie bend one through from the boundary, Mitchell soar over the pack, Cyril hunt the ball and evade all-comers and Buddy streaming down the wing. Then watch them again and then get out and practice yourself to see if you can replicate the athletic feats regularly displayed by our Aboriginal players.
A game enriched this much by its First Peoples and ought to be able to offer them something equally dependable in return: a place where their talent, their voice and their humanity all belong and are recognised fairly.
Whoops, I almost forgot Darryl White!
***This article is a tribute to my Aboriginal cousin Justin Fry, who passed away last year. I grew up with Justin and he was a much better cricketer/footballer and violin player than I was or will ever be.***
Halley’s Comet and its detailed tail. It shows the full range of features characteristic of a well-developed ion tail, including tail rays, condensations, a kink, a general helical structure (which shows only as a waviness on the print), and perhaps a disconnection event in which a part of the ion tail separates and the comet begins to develop a new tail. Photo by B.A.E. Inc./Alamy.
Fremantle Dockers
Brisbane Lions
Insurance Company Profits by Taking the PISS!
Off the Top of My Head
By Paul Murray
The insurer sells certainty. The customer discovers uncertainty….and the customer pays for both.
There’s an old saying that insurance is something you buy hoping you’ll never need it. Having recently had the misfortune of actually needing it, I’d like to propose an amendment: Insurance is something you pay for religiously, hoping you’ll never discover what you’ve actually purchased.
Back in 2013, I wrote an article for The Rongolian Star entitled Insurance Companies…Who’s Watching These Crooks? It was a somewhat irreverent examination of an industry that has perfected the art of collecting money today in exchange for promises about tomorrow. Thirteen years later, I’m delighted to report that I’ve undertaken some extensive firsthand research into the subject.
Unfortunately, this research has cost me approximately $110,000 in insurance premiums, involved a failed septic system, several months of correspondence, an unsuccessful complaint to the Insurance & Financial Services Ombudsman, and the prospect of finding another $45,000 to repair something that worked perfectly well for almost six decades. All things considered, I wish I’d just gone fishing.
A maternity hospital, a septic tank and 60 years of uninterrupted service….
In 1965, the New Zealand Government built a maternity hospital in Karamea, a small, remote community on the northern West Coast of the South Island. This wasn’t some ramshackle collection of recycled timber knocked together by a couple of blokes after a few beers. It was a government-funded public building, constructed to the high standards and engineering practices of the day, designed to provide essential medical services to the community. Naturally, it required a reliable wastewater disposal system.
A properly engineered septic tank and associated soakage field were installed, and for almost 60 years this unglamorous, but essential infrastructure quietly went about its business. Babies were born. Generations came and went. The maternity hospital eventually became an accommodation business and now a residential property. Throughout the building’s many metamorphoses, the septic system continued doing what septic systems are supposed to do. Until October 2025….When it stopped.
Not after years of observable progressive failure. Not following decades of complaints about its performance. Not because someone had suddenly decided to convert the property into a commercial sewage-processing facility. It simply ceased functioning satisfactorily.
A drainlayer investigated and identified a rise in the water table and associated groundwater saturation of the disposal field as the problem. Wastewater could no longer disperse through the ground as intended. The solution was straightforward, if financially rather confronting…Replace the failed system…Estimated cost: approximately $45,000…Bugger!
Still, I wasn’t particularly worried at first. After all, I’d insured the property continuously since 2004.I’d paid an estimated average of $5,000 a year in premiums. Over 22 years, that’s approximately $110,000. I hadn’t made a previous claim. Surely, I thought, this was precisely why people paid insurance premiums…No worries, just fill out a claim form and Robert’s your Mother’s Brother…Right?
The extraordinary difference between suddenly and…suddenly…
My insurer, NZI, a division of IAG New Zealand, declined the claim. The essential issue was whether the failure constituted sudden and accidental loss or damage covered by the policy. Now, I’m not a lawyer, but I do have a reasonable grasp of the English language. If something has been functioning satisfactorily for almost 60 years and then abruptly ceases functioning, I would ordinarily describe that as a sudden failure, but apparently, the insurance industry has a rather more sophisticated understanding of the word.
You see, a system can stop working suddenly without necessarily having suffered sudden physical damage. Its deterioration might have been gradual, even if the consequences became apparent all at once…And that is aapparently a perfectly legitimate distinction. But here’s where things become interesting…Nobody has established that the groundwater conditions responsible for this particular failure changed gradually. Equally, I cannot establish that they changed suddenly. Nobody knows.
The West Coast Regional Council’s hydrology department kindly supplied detailed information about the extraordinary rainfall events that affected Karamea in October 2025. The region had experienced an unusually wet winter and spring. Soils were saturated, river levels were elevated, and significant rainfall events occurred in October. At one monitoring station in the Karamea ranges, rainfall intensities exceeded estimated 50-year and 100-year return-period thresholds over six- and twelve-hour durations respectively. On 21 October, the Karamea River reached approximately 3,007 cubic metres per second, its highest recorded flow since 2013. There was, in other words, rather a lot of water about.
Unfortunately, nobody had thought to install a continuous groundwater monitoring station beneath the septic field of the former Karamea maternity hospital. An astonishing oversight! The council confirmed that its available groundwater measurements were too infrequent to determine whether there had been a rapid rise beneath my property during the relevant period. Measurements from another bore approximately 700 metres away could not automatically be assumed to represent conditions beneath my particular property. So the evidence cannot tell us precisely what happened.
But because I cannot demonstrate that the physical loss or damage occurred suddenly, my claim doesn’t satisfy the insurer’s interpretation of the policy requirements. The fact that the system suddenly stopped working is not, on its own, sufficient. Apparently, I should have been monitoring the underground hydrological conditions surrounding my septic system for the past 22 years. Perhaps I should also have employed a full-time geotechnical engineer, just in case….Silly me…I merely paid the premiums with the understanding and belief that if there was such a problem, I would be covered by the insurer.
Half a billion dollars here, a billion dollars there…
Now, let’s examine the financial circumstances of the organisations involved. IAG New Zealand reported an insurance profit of approximately NZ$563 million for the financial year ending June 2026. Its Australian parent, Insurance Australia Group, reported net profit after tax of approximately A$1.022 billion. Meanwhile, international insurance brokerage and professional services company AON reported approximately US$3.695 billion in net income attributable to shareholders for 2025.
Different companies, different currencies and different measures of profitability, of course. Aon is an insurance intermediary, not the underwriter responsible for deciding my claim. But the figures provide a fascinating glimpse into the enormous sums of money circulating through the insurance industry. Billions and billions and billions of dollars….
Meanwhile, down here in Karamea, I’m trying to find $45,000 to replace a failed septic system. To put that into perspective, $45,000 represents approximately 0.008% of IAG New Zealand’s reported $563 million annual insurance profit. Not eight per cent. Not eight-tenths of one per cent…Eight-thousandths of one per cent!
Of course, insurers don’t determine claims by comparing their profits with their customers’ financial circumstances. Nor should they. Insurance is a contractual arrangement, not a charitable donation. I understand that, but it does rather highlight the extraordinary financial imbalance between the parties. One side has billions of dollars in financial resources, extensive legal expertise, specialist assessors and entire departments devoted to interpreting risk.
The other side has a failed septic tank, a $45,000 bill and a reasonably well-developed sense of indignation. I know which side I’d back in a legal contest.
Justice for all…(Terms and conditions apply)
Having exhausted the insurer’s complaints process, I approached the Insurance & Financial Services Ombudsman Scheme. A free, independent dispute resolution service…Wonderful! Here, surely, was an opportunity for an ordinary New Zealander to have his complaint assessed without needing to mortgage the family home to pay a lawyer.
At a recent conference I attended, I heard New Zealand’s Chief Ombudsman, John Allen, speak about the importance of fairness, accessibility and equitable access to justice. It was an inspiring address. One of the messages I took from it was that access to justice should not depend upon how wealthy you are, how influential you might be or whether you can afford an army of legal advisers. An admirable principle.
Unfortunately, there’s a rather substantial difference between the principle of accessible justice and the practical reality of pursuing a dispute against a multinational insurance corporation. The insurance Ombudsman considered my complaint, examined the additional hydrological information and ultimately concluded that I had not demonstrated a sudden and accidental loss covered by the policy. The complaint was closed. I was informed that if I wished to pursue the matter further, I could take action through the Disputes Tribunal or the courts….Ah! The Courts! Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?
I’ll just engage a suitably experienced insurance lawyer, commission an independent hydrological investigation, obtain expert engineering evidence and prepare myself for a legal contest with an international insurance group. Perhaps I’ll retain a King’s Counsel while I’m at it! After all, what could possibly be more sensible than spending tens of thousands of dollars pursuing a disputed $45,000 insurance claim?
And there’s the rub. The suggestion that I can pursue the matter through the courts is legally correct. But legal rights and practical access to justice are not necessarily the same thing. I cannot know what the Ombudsman intended by offering that advice. It may simply be the standard explanation provided when the complaints process ends. Nevertheless, the practical consequence is unmistakable.
For someone without the financial resources to fund litigation, being told to take on a billion-dollar insurance corporation in court can sound remarkably like being told to go away. The door to justice may be technically open. But if you cannot afford the price of admission, what practical difference does that make?
The curious economics of insurance…
Insurance companies have a fascinating business model. They calculate risk. They price risk. They collect premiums to cover risk. They invest the money collected from managing risk. And when an insured event occurs, they assess whether the particular loss falls within the risks they have agreed to cover. That’s how insurance works…Fair enough.
But from the customer’s perspective, there is something deeply unsatisfactory about discovering, after decades of faithfully paying premiums, that the protection you thought you were purchasing may depend upon producing scientific evidence that never existed in the first place. I didn’t commission a hydrological survey when the property was insured in 2004. The insurer didn’t require one. Nobody suggested I should monitor groundwater levels. The premiums were accepted without difficulty. Year after year…For 22 years. But when the system failed, the absence of detailed scientific evidence became central to the question of whether the claim was covered.
And that raises a broader issue. Should insurers do more to explain, at the point of sale, the kinds of evidence policyholders may need to establish a claim involving older infrastructure? Should insurers undertake more comprehensive investigations before declining technically complex claims? And should the evidential expectations placed upon ordinary consumers reflect what it is realistically possible for them to establish? These seem to me perfectly reasonable questions. Especially when the insurer initially proposed an engineering inspection of the property but ultimately declined the claim without proceeding with that investigation.
Who’s watching the people watching the insurance companies?
There’s another curious dimension to all this. In October 2025, New Zealand’s Financial Markets Authority announced that IAG had admitted breaches of fair-dealing requirements involving misleading representations about insurance products. The resulting court-imposed penalty was $19.5 million. Those breaches were unrelated to my claim, and I make no suggestion that they establish wrongdoing in this case, but they do remind us that even very large, sophisticated financial institutions can get things seriously wrong.
Which brings me back to the question I asked in 2013. Who’s watching the insurance companies? And perhaps, just as importantly, how effective are the protections available to an ordinary customer who believes an insurer has treated them unfairly?
The Insurance & Financial Services Ombudsman Scheme provides an important independent service, but it operates within the law and the terms of insurance contracts. It cannot simply order an insurer to pay because a customer has experienced an unexpected financial catastrophe, and when that process ends, the remaining legal avenues may be financially impractical.
So where does that leave the ordinary person? Holding a policy. Holding a repair bill, and wondering what happened to the peace of mind they thought they’d been buying.
The insurer sells certainty. The customer discovers uncertainty…and the customer pays for both.
That, to me, is the central absurdity of this entire experience. For 22 years, I paid insurance premiums in the reasonable expectation that I was protecting my property against unforeseen misfortune. When misfortune finally arrived, the argument became one of legal definitions, evidential standards and whether the failure of a 60-year-old engineered wastewater system met the precise contractual requirements for cover. I understand the legal reasoning. I understand the insurer’s position. I even understand why the Ombudsman reached the conclusion it did, but understanding something doesn’t necessarily make it feel fair.
The system was constructed by the New Zealand Government in 1965, when the building was a maternity hospital. It performed its intended function for almost 60 years. It then stopped working during a period of unusually wet weather and significant hydrological activity. Nobody can now establish precisely how the groundwater beneath the property changed during that period, and because I cannot demonstrate the required sudden physical loss or damage, the claim has been declined…Case closed…Except, of course, for the $45,000 problem. That remains very much open.
A modest proposal…
Perhaps we should introduce a new form of insurance policy. We could call it Peace of Mind Insurance. Under this revolutionary arrangement, the insurer would clearly explain what is covered, what isn’t covered, and what evidence might reasonably be required to establish a claim. When a longstanding customer suffers a substantial and unforeseen loss, the insurer would undertake a thorough investigation before deciding whether to pay. Where the evidence is genuinely inconclusive, both parties would have a fair opportunity to understand the reasons for the decision and the realistic options available. And where a dispute arises, the customer would have access to a resolution process that doesn’t ultimately depend upon possessing a small fortune.
Radical stuff, I know! It might even catch on. Until then, I’ll continue contemplating the extraordinary irony of this shitty situation.
A septic system built by the New Zealand Government in 1965 gave almost 60 years of dependable service. An insurance relationship lasting 22 years, and costing approximately $110,000, has left me facing a $45,000 bill with no assistance. The multinational insurance industry continues to generate enormous profits, and I’m left wondering whether the only thing more thoroughly processed than the contents of my septic tank is my insurance claim.
The insurer sells certainty. The customer discovers uncertainty…and the customer pays for both.
From Sunny Karamea, where the birds are singing, the Tasman Sea is sparkling, the insurance industry is prospering…and shit is still hitting the fan!
The author provided IAG Ltd, the Insurance & Financial Services Ombudsman Scheme and NZI Insurance company an opportunity to give its version of events, they declined. However, in the email communication subsequently received, an officer of the Customer Complaint Division of IAG was not responsive to the content of this article.
Dear XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I am writing to invite both NZI/IAG and the Insurance & Financial Services Ombudsman Scheme to comment on an article I have prepared for publication in The Rongolian Star, entitled “Insurance Company Profits by Taking the PISS!”
I have attached the complete 11-page draft article, including its illustrations and graphs, for your consideration.
The article concerns my experience with an insurance claim arising from the failure of the wastewater disposal system at the former Karamea Maternity Hospital, and the subsequent dispute resolution process.
It is written in my usual Off the Top of My Head style, combining personal experience, satire, humour and social commentary. While the language is occasionally colourful and the illustrations deliberately provocative, the underlying issues are serious.
Before publishing, I want to give both organisations a fair opportunity to review the material, correct any factual inaccuracies and explain their respective positions.
As outlined in the article, the property was constructed by the New Zealand Government in 1965 as a maternity hospital. Its wastewater disposal system operated reliably for almost 60 years before ceasing to function satisfactorily in October 2025, following an exceptionally wet winter and spring.
The estimated replacement cost is approximately $45,000.
I have maintained insurance on the property since 2004, paying an estimated $110,000 in premiums over that period, without previously making a claim.
NZI/IAG declined the claim on the basis that I had not established a sudden and accidental loss covered by the policy. The IFSO Scheme subsequently upheld that position, and Karen confirmed in her correspondence of 15 October 2026 that the complaint process had concluded.
I acknowledge the legal reasoning: the initial burden rests with the insured to establish a covered loss. I also accept that an abrupt loss of function does not necessarily establish sudden physical damage.
However, my continuing concern is the practical difficulty of proving the timing and mechanism of an underground failure when the necessary historical groundwater monitoring information simply does not exist.
The West Coast Regional Council’s hydrological evidence does not establish that groundwater beneath the property rose suddenly. Equally, it does not establish that groundwater conditions changed gradually. The available information is insufficient to determine precisely what occurred.
I am not suggesting that this uncertainty automatically entitles me to insurance cover. Rather, I question whether the investigation and evidential expectations were reasonable in the circumstances, and whether the resulting outcome reflects the protection that a longstanding policyholder might reasonably believe they had purchased.
The article also examines the financial disparity between a policyholder facing a substantial uninsured repair bill and a major multinational insurance group, along with the practical accessibility of legal remedies following an unsuccessful complaint.
I would particularly welcome your responses to the following questions:
I appreciate that the insurer and the IFSO Scheme have distinct responsibilities, and I invite each organisation to address only those questions relevant to its role.
I also recognise that the IFSO process has concluded. This is not another request to reopen the complaint, but an opportunity to provide comment for a proposed publication examining my experience and the wider questions it raises.
I acknowledge the confidentiality obligations referred to in Karen’s correspondence of 15 October. I have sought to present my own account of events rather than reproduce confidential IFSO communications. If the Scheme considers that any specific passage of the draft raises a confidentiality concern, I would appreciate that passage being identified, together with the relevant basis for the concern, so I can consider it before publication.
Likewise, if either organisation considers that the article’s financial information, illustrations or descriptions of its conduct require correction or clarification, please identify the relevant material and provide the supporting information.
I would welcome a written statement from each organisation explaining its position. Please indicate whether your response may be quoted and attributed in the published article.
I propose to allow seven calendar days from receipt of this email for responses. If additional time is reasonably required, please let me know within that period.
I will consider all comments in good faith and make appropriate factual corrections before publication. I believe readers deserve to hear the perspectives of both the policyholder and the organisations involved.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Kind Regards,
Paul Murray
Director, Iltamara Ltd
Writer and Publisher, The Rongolian Star
Karamea, West Coast, New Zealand
Attachment:Rongo RS Article DRAFT Insurance Company Profits by Taking the PISS.pdf (11 pages)
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