When I became the subject of a complaint to the Health and Disability Commissioner, I expected at least one basic safeguard:
That the people investigating me would understand how counselling actually works.
They didn’t.
Instead, I found myself being assessed — and ultimately condemned — by a process that showed little to no understanding of:
- What counsellors are ethically trained to do
- What counsellors are bound by in terms of privacy laws and ethical obligations around disclosure
- And how our work is guided by relational, context-sensitive ethics — not black-and-white checklists or prescriptive procedures
The process didn’t account for any of that.
And it’s important to be clear:
An HDC investigation is not a legal process.
There is no sworn testimony.
There is no impartial tribunal.
There is no burden of proof.
There is no courtroom.
There is no judge.
It is an administrative process, governed by internal standards, discretionary interpretation, and a team of non-clinical staff who — in my case — passed judgment on professional decisions they did not appear qualified to assess.
And yet, despite the fact that this process operates entirely outside the legal system, the consequences for me were as severe as if I’d been convicted in court.
What followed wasn’t just unfair.
It was professionally negligent.
It was structurally flawed.
And it was deeply harmful — not just to me, but to the integrity of the profession I’ve spent my life serving.
The HDC didn’t just misunderstand the nature of my work.
They misrepresented my ethical obligations as evidence of wrongdoing.
- My commitment to protecting client confidentiality was reframed as obstruction.
- My silence — rooted in legal caution and ethical duty — was treated as non-cooperation.
- My decision not to breach privacy laws without a court order was interpreted not as professionalism, but as evasiveness.
And all of these interpretations were made not through a clinical lens,
not in consultation with professional peers,
but through an administrative framework — one that was ill-equipped to judge the very thing it was tasked with evaluating.
This is how good practitioners get hurt.
This is how ethics get twisted.
And this is how trust in the system begins to collapse — not because of malice, but because of misunderstanding masked as authority.
When Protecting Client Privacy Is Reframed as Refusal
The ethical dilemma at the heart of my case wasn’t complicated — but it was crucial.
When the HDC requested session notes, the situation placed the practitioner in an ethical and legal bind. Under New Zealand’s Privacy Act and Health Information Privacy Code, releasing such records without legal compulsion — especially when they contain references to third parties — is a serious breach of confidentiality. Adhering to this obligation is not optional; it is foundational to the integrity of the counselling profession and the safety of therapeutic spaces.
It’s not defiance.
It’s not avoidance.
It’s duty.
It’s one of the few absolutes in our field — and one that sits at the very centre of what allows clients to speak openly and honestly in therapy.
But the HDC saw it differently.
Despite being provided with a clear rationale, they chose to interpret my refusal to hand over documentation as a red flag. Not an ethical boundary. Not a legal concern. But a lack of cooperation.
They didn’t ask for clarification.
They didn’t seek peer input.
They didn’t investigate further to understand the nuance.
They simply reframed my ethical stance as a professional failing — as if silence must mean guilt.
This is a catastrophic misunderstanding.
Because in doing so, they sent a chilling message to the entire profession:
- That protecting client privacy can be used against you
- That upholding your ethical training makes you vulnerable
- And that integrity may be misread as misconduct by those who don’t understand the work
This is not accountability.
It’s institutional misinterpretation — and it’s dangerous.
A System That Operates Without Understanding
What happened in my case wasn’t just a miscommunication.
It was a systemic failure — a warning sign of a wider issue.
The HDC didn’t seek clarification.
They didn’t consult with experienced peers in the counselling profession.
They didn’t ask:
- “Was this practitioner protecting not just the complainant’s privacy, but also the privacy of third parties or other clients?”
- “Has this counsellor shown a pattern of ethical behaviour and client care over time?”
- “Is this practitioner complying with their professional training and scope of practice in refusing to release documentation without a legal order?”
- “Could the silence reflect caution, integrity, or trauma from prior dealings with the system — rather than wrongdoing?”
- “What harm might have been caused if the practitioner had disclosed confidential notes without proper legal backing?”
- “Have we consulted with any registered or practising counsellors to assess this in context?”
- “Would a peer, under similar circumstances, have made the same decision?”
Instead, they relied on administrative staff — not clinicians — to make determinations about clinical and ethical conduct.
No qualified counselling peer ever reviewed my actions.
No independent professional was brought in to offer context or insight.
And yet the outcome was treated as authoritative — enough to justify a public naming.
This isn’t just unfair.
It’s reckless.
Because when administrative processes attempt to regulate complex therapeutic work without including the voices of people trained in that work, two things happen:
- Context is erased
- Integrity becomes a liability
Counsellors are not GPs.
We’re not lawyers.
We’re not therapists working within transactional, check-box frameworks.
We work in the relational space — where context, trust, and confidentiality are not just features of the work — they are the foundation of it.
When those realities are excluded from the decision-making process, you don’t get justice. You get distortion.
When Ethics Become a Risk
What happened to me isn’t just about me.
It’s about every counsellor in New Zealand who now sees what can happen when ethical integrity is reframed as guilt.
Because once you see how easily professional obligations — like protecting privacy — can be interpreted as “refusal to cooperate,” it changes the way you practise.
You stop writing fully.
You second-guess your clinical notes.
You document less — not because you’re hiding anything, but because you’re afraid of what someone outside the profession might make of it.
You censor yourself.
You hesitate before making hard calls.
You weigh up not only what’s right for the client, but what’s safest for your career.
And slowly, you stop being the counsellor you trained to be.
Not because you’ve abandoned ethics — but because the system punishes you for following them.
That’s the chilling part.
This isn’t just about false complaints anymore.
It’s about how easily counsellor ethics can be weaponised against us when:
- The investigating body has no clinical or peer-reviewed insight
- Legal privacy obligations are ignored
- And no one gives us the benefit of context, nuance, or even a conversation
It sends a terrifying message to every good practitioner:
“If you protect your client’s privacy, you might be next.”
That’s not regulation.
That’s intimidation by misunderstanding.
And it’s silencing the very people the public trusts to do this work with care.
What Must Change: Protecting the Ethical Backbone of Counselling
If the Health and Disability Commissioner wants to truly regulate with integrity, it cannot continue to exclude clinical insight, legal nuance, and ethical complexity from its decision-making.
The process must change.
At minimum, the following reforms are essential:
🔹 1. Peer-Based Ethical Review Panels Must Be Introduced
No complaint involving clinical judgment or ethical nuance should ever be decided solely by administrators, case managers, or legal generalists.
Qualified, independent, practising counsellors must be consulted when interpreting professional decisions — especially those involving privacy and client care.
🔹 2. Privacy Protections Must Be Respected and Legally Understood
When a practitioner declines to share notes based on privacy law, this must not be reinterpreted as “non-cooperation.”
The law in New Zealand is clear: under the Privacy Act 2020 and the Health Information Privacy Code 2020, counsellors are not required — and in many situations are not permitted — to release private session notes without a court order or legal compulsion.
This is especially true when disclosure could breach the confidentiality of third parties referenced in those notes.
This is not a loophole — it is a legal safeguard.
- Rule 6 of the Health Information Privacy Code permits health professionals to withhold information if releasing it would involve an unwarranted disclosure of another person’s affairs.
- In counselling contexts, session notes often reference not just the client, but other individuals — meaning that disclosing such records could violate their rights under privacy law.
- Professional guidance in New Zealand, including from regulatory boards like the Psychologists Board, explicitly advises practitioners to wait for a court order if a client contests disclosure — or if there’s potential harm in releasing the information.
In my case, I followed this law exactly as I was trained and ethically bound to do.
My refusal to hand over notes to the HDC was not an act of defiance.
It was a decision grounded in legal precedent, ethical responsibility, and a sincere commitment to protecting all parties involved — including the complainant.
To reinterpret that duty of care as “obstruction” or “non-cooperation” is not only deeply misleading — it’s an act of institutional ignorance that undermines the very privacy rights the HDC exists to protect.
🔹 3. No One Should Be Ambushed by the System That’s Supposed to Protect Them
No mental health professional should ever be blindsided by the threat of public naming — especially not as a result of decisions made in good faith, within ethical boundaries, and in line with legal obligations.
And yet, that’s exactly what happens under the current HDC process.
There is no structured warning system.
There is no clear pathway for defending yourself with dignity and support.
There is no impartial advocacy to help you navigate what’s coming.
You’re simply notified — often by email — that your name may be published, and unless you comply with their demands, your reputation could be destroyed.
This is not how a just or compassionate system functions.
A counsellor under investigation is not a criminal.
They are not on trial.
They are not automatically guilty.
And yet they are treated as if they are — with no access to the procedural safeguards that would exist in a legal setting.
Instead, they are:
- Left to interpret vague emails alone
- Given no formal introduction to their rights
- Expected to navigate ethically complex territory without legal guidance
- Provided no psychological safety measures or wellbeing check-ins
- And issued no formal indication of how their refusal to breach privacy law may be weaponised against them
This is not regulation.
This is administrative ambush — and it violates the very standards of transparency, empathy, and respect that practitioners are expected to uphold in their own work.
🔹 The System Must Provide, at Minimum:
- Clear and early guidance on rights:
Every practitioner under HDC review must be clearly told what their rights are, what the process involves, and what possible outcomes (including public exposure) they are facing — in plain language, not legalese. - Independent legal support pathways:
The HDC must offer practitioners access to legal or ethical consultation from neutral third parties — not just internal “options,” but real, external legal advice that helps them navigate difficult decisions. - Psychological safety measures:
Being under complaint is traumatising. There must be mental health supports available to practitioners under investigation — whether counselling, peer debriefing, or emotional advocacy — because these processes leave people permanently damaged. - Fair warning before reputational action is taken:
No name should ever be released publicly unless the practitioner has had a full, fair opportunity to respond, present evidence, and have their decisions reviewed by qualified peers.
This should never be a surprise.
It should never be a threat.
And it should never be used as leverage.
Accountability and support are not mutually exclusive.
You can regulate mental health professionals without destroying them in the process.
But that requires a system designed with fairness — not fear — at its core.
🔹 4. The System Must Stop Punishing Integrity
When counsellors protect confidentiality, that is not a breach of trust — it is the definition of trust.
When professionals act with care, caution, and legal restraint, they must not be left vulnerable to interpretation by people who have never done this work.
Because if we keep punishing the ethical ones — the ones who pause before acting, who put privacy first, who honour complexity — then we’re dismantling the very fabric of safe, relational mental health care in New Zealand.
To every counsellor reading this: you are not crazy for feeling afraid.
You’re not weak for being cautious.
You’re operating in a system that, right now, can turn your professionalism into a liability.
And that must change — before we lose more of the good ones.
For those unfamiliar with the background of my situation, I’ve shared the full story in this detailed statement:
👉 Neil Oliver Counsellor – The Truth Behind the HDC Complaint