Listen up, because this one’s got me spitting mad. UniSuper Management Pty Ltd, that gleaming tower of Australian superannuation promise, the so-called guardian of your retirement nest egg for over 650,000 university staff and academics. They’re meant to be the good guys – industry fund, not-for-profit ethos, fighting the good fight against the bloodsucking banks. But peel back the annual reports, and what do you find? A bucket full of fuck-ups, half-arsed apologies, and a cosy seat at the table with the world’s ethical basket cases. And now, they’ve got their fingers deep in Cummins Inc., propping up a controversial corporate behemoth that’s been dodging accountability long before TCAP kicked off its crusade. Yeah, you read that right: UniSuper holds a stake in Cummins – 11,468 shares worth about $3.6 million as of early September 2025, a piddling 0.025% of their $15 billion portfolio, but enough to make you wonder who’s really minding the store. This isn’t some outlier; it’s the cherry on a shit sundae of ethical lapses that stretches back decades. TCAP’s been hammering Cummins for a year – emissions scandals, labour dodges, greenwashing bollocks – and here’s UniSuper, quietly feathering their nest with shares in the same rotten ecosystem. Workers’ money funding worker exploitation? It’s enough to make you puke.

The 2011 Merger: Steamrolling Members Like They’re Roadkill

Picture this: it’s 2011, the global financial crisis has just shat the bed, and UniSuper’s defined benefit division is staring down a $1.48 billion shortfall. Not a crisis, they say – just numbers on a page, because who needs full payouts when you can merge the lot and call it progress? But here’s the kicker: they rammed through the merger without so much as a polite knock on the door for their members. No real consultation, no vote that mattered, just a top-down dictate that left retirees sweating bullets over their futures.

The ABC blew the lid off it, exposing how UniSuper ignored the very people whose cash they were juggling. Government stepped in, forcing a rethink on member engagement, but by then the damage was done. Critics screamed conflict of interest – universities auto-enrolling staff, UniSuper cosying up to the bosses. It wasn’t fraud, sure, but it was a blatant middle finger to transparency. And the board? They shrugged it off like a bad hangover. This set the tone: UniSuper’s idea of “member-first” means members last, always.

2016: Gagging the CEO and Dodging the Royal Commission Bullet

Fast-forward to 2016, and the air’s thick with the stench of banking scandals. Australia’s gearing up for a royal commission into the financial crooks, but UniSuper’s CEO Kevin O’Sullivan pipes up: “Nah, we don’t need it.” Ballsy? Or just tone-deaf? The National Tertiary Education Union lost their shit, demanding the board muzzle him. And muzzle they did – chairman Chris Cuffe slapped a gag order faster than you can say “conflict of interest.”

It wasn’t just O’Sullivan’s lone wolf act. The elected member committee was getting grief from university managements for not playing ball, stirring up governance wars that made the whole fund look like a dysfunctional family reunion. Unions baying for blood, executives ducking for cover – it was a circus of self-preservation. UniSuper bent to the pressure, but the rot was clear: when push comes to shove, loyalty’s to the suits, not the savers. And in a year when the whole system’s under the microscope, that’s not oversight; that’s complicity.

2020’s Share Lending Recall: Hypocrisy on Steroids

Then COVID hits, markets go feral, and UniSuper decides to play market cop. They yank back loaned shares from short-sellers mid-panic, forcing funds to eat massive losses covering positions. Didn’t hold back on the criticism: called UniSuper out for investing in “grotesque frauds” while preaching responsibility. Ouch.

The recall lasted months, only reinstated in 2021 after the dust settled. But the hypocrisy burned – a super fund built on ethical high ground, screwing over investors to protect their own arse? It reeked of the very opportunism they claim to despise. Short-sellers were the villains du jour, sure, but UniSuper’s move screamed self-interest over stability. Members’ returns took the hit in the chaos, and no one’s saying sorry. Just another day in the fund’s hall of dodgy decisions.

Juukan Gorge: Watching Rio Tinto Blast History to Bits

2020 wasn’t done kicking UniSuper in the teeth. As a major shareholder in Rio Tinto, they sat there – mouths agape, presumably – as the mining giant dynamited 46,000-year-old Indigenous rock shelters at Juukan Gorge. Sacred sites, obliterated for a few extra tonnes of iron ore. UniSuper issued a limp “we’re saddened” statement, demanded accountability, and later griped that Rio’s executive slaps on the wrist weren’t enough.

They joined the chorus of super funds pushing for heritage reforms, but let’s be real: where was the divestment threat? No share dump, no real teeth. Just words while the bulldozers rolled. For a fund waving the ESG flag, this was a gut-wrenching fail – profiting from cultural vandalism, then tut-tutting from the sidelines. It’s the kind of moral cowardice that makes you question every “responsible investment” claim they peddle.

2023’s PwC Fiasco: Bedfellows with Tax-Dodging Scum

By 2023, the scandals were piling up like unpaid bills. PwC gets caught leaking confidential government tax plans to their corporate mates – a betrayal that makes Watergate look like a parking ticket. UniSuper’s response? Suspend new work with the firm, citing “reputational risk.” Precautionary, they called it. But here’s the rub: they were still in bed with PwC when the shit hit the fan, paying for advice from a crew knee-deep in ethical sewage.

No direct blame on UniSuper, but it spotlights the vendor blind spot. Billions in member funds, and they’re outsourcing to proven liars? It’s lazy, it’s risky, and it screams “we’ll fix it after the fact.” In a post-Hayne world, where trust’s thinner than a politician’s promise, this was another brick in the wall of UniSuper’s credibility collapse.

Wake Up, Members – And TCAP Faithful

So what’s the play? Divest from the dinosaurs, demand real governance, and back TCAP’s push to hold Cummins – and its enablers – to the fire. UniSuper’s not evil incarnate, but they’re close enough: a fund that’s forgotten its roots, chasing returns over righteousness. Your retirement shouldn’t bankroll this bollocks. Write your MP, flood their AGM with questions, and keep sharing TCAP’s dispatches. The system’s rigged, but it cracks under pressure. Let’s make some noise – for the members, for the truth, for fuck’s sake, for once.

Lee Thompson – Founder, The Cummins Accountability Project

Shareholder Spotlight : UniSuper Management Pty Ltd – Name Chosen By Sarcastic Person