It was a peacetime activity with seemingly little risk: survey the waters around Samoa ahead of the Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting (CHOGM). Yet, the October 2024 mission would eventually sail into a crisis for the Royal New Zealand Navy.
On October 5th, the Navy’s HMNZS MANAWANUI – a hydrographic vessel with a team of 75 Naval officials, foreign military representatives and civilian scientists onboard – ran aground on a reef near the Island of Upolu. Everyone evacuated, but the vessel soon took on water, caught fire and sank. It was the first vessel loss for the Royal New Zealand Navy since WWII.
While there were no fatalities, the event sparked global interest. Audiences wondered what happened, how everyone survived and whether the Navy considered the incident an ‘embarrassment.’ A wave of armchair experts also spurred conspiracy theories and laid blame on the captain’s gender.
How did the New Zealand government respond to these interests?
They adopted a proactive stance – pushing out press statements and convening a series of press conferences. The Navy immediately centred the narrative on people: commending the crew, praising response partners, and continually reminding the public that everyone onboard had been saved. The press conferences were well choreographed and the spokespeople – Defence Minister, Judith Collins and Rear Admiral, Garin Golding – utilised a clear, concise and direct style of communication. Overall, the first few days were picture perfect: Those in charge sifted through the chaos to highlight the most important facts and offer connection, reassurance and leadership in a time of concern.
But incident response is not limited to just a few days. And there were enormous reputational challenges still at play: The Navy had lost a 100-million-dollar asset that was going to be difficult to replace; the local people of Samoa were still staring down a potential environmental catastrophe; and the public – especially in New Zealand – wanted to know how a Naval vessel had been wrecked on a reef during peacetime. To make matters worse, the incident had occurred in a foreign country, whose people had a less-than-ideal opinion of the New Zealand government.
As time progressed, criticism strengthened and cracks emerged in the government’s strategy.
Observations of environmental impact began to diverge. By the end of October, the New Zealand government reported a “trickling” release of diesel, while the local community complained about constant petroleum fumes and described scores of fish and other marine life coated in oil. When questioned about the cause of the discrepancies, Collins could only muster a simple: “I don’t know.” Samoans began to lose trust – questioning whether they would even receive compensation. As one resident articulated to the New Zealand Herald: “We really don’t know where we are between the two governments, our government hasn’t relayed much information.”
The New Zealand public also had serious questions about the competency and capacity of their Navy. But when it was confirmed the MANAWANUI would not be replaced, scepticism only grew – fuelling another reputational fire: Could the New Zealand Navy be ill-equipped for twenty first century needs?
The final report of the Court of Inquiry in April 2025 didn’t help matters. It was a scathing review of Naval operations. The grounding was determined to have come from “a series of human errors”. Insufficient crew training, qualifications and experience were cited to have contributed to these human errors. On top of that, the vessel suffered from mission-level time pressures and deficiencies in risk management culture and crewing availability.
Beyond reiterating some commitments about future improvements, Garin Golding was forced to admit the Navy’s reputation had “taken a hit”. Collins meanwhile stated: “We’re not a country that is going to shy away from the truth.” Their candidness, while bold and honest, was also an admission: trust was wavering and there were few concrete actions that they could point toward to inspire optimism.
There was also, however, one bright spot in the final report: It underscored the heroism and leadership of those involved in the MANAWANUI’s abandonment process. In particular, it highlighted the swift decision making of the captain and the teamwork of crew members and Samoan residents to get people ashore. From the start, this theme continues to be one of the defining elements of the MANAWANUI story.
So, what are the key communication lessons from the MANWANUI saga?
- Setting priorities is vital – communication agendas are limited, and people’s attention spans are finite. The New Zealand government struck the right tone early on. Their focus on people set in course the central narrative of the MANAWANUI story: The Captain saved lives.
- There is currency in being transparent. The direct and concise style of communication that Garin Golding and Judith Collins maintained signalled a willingness to be transparent. It also showed a commitment to avoiding a PR game and helped Garin and Collins to guide media attention away from speculation.
- Stories evolve and so too should messaging and communications. The Navy’s response could have benefited from an evolution in their key messaging to keep pace with the concerns of the press and public.
As the news cycle wore on, environmental fears in Samoa, along with financial and operational concerns about the New Zealand Navy, took hold as dominant narratives alongside the praise for “the heroes that saved lives.” Each of these sub-themes to the MANAWANUI saga is now contributing to define the New Zealand Navy’s reputation – whether for good or bad.
