Listen, when I put out that first piece on UniSuper, I thought I’d scraped the bottom of the barrel. The mergers rammed through without a whisper to members, the gagging of their own CEO, the share-lending hypocrisy during COVID chaos, the limp response to Juukan Gorge’s destruction, the cosy ties to PwC’s tax-dodging mess – it was a parade of ethical shortcuts and half-arsed excuses. But hell, the tips kept coming, the dirt kept piling up, and it turns out that barrel had a false bottom. There’s so much more to this so-called guardian of academic retirements that we needed a second instalment just to air it out. UniSuper, with its not-for-profit badge and member-first bluster, keeps proving it’s just another player in the game, chasing returns while the ethical compass spins like a drunk on a merry-go-round. And yes, they’re still holding onto those Cummins Inc. shares – latest filings show around 2,500 shares worth roughly $793,703 as of mid-2025, a sliver of their massive A$135 billion portfolio, but enough to raise the question: is this just another corner of their ecosystem where “ethical” means whatever keeps the money rolling in? Cummins, with its emissions scandals and labour gripes we’ve been hammering at TCAP, fits right in with UniSuper’s pattern of propping up the questionable. Workers’ savings funding corporate dodges? It’s the same old story, and it’s got me raging. Let’s dig into the fresh scandals that show this fund hasn’t learned a damn thing.

The Google Cloud Catastrophe: Deleting Dreams in the Digital Age

Picture this: you’re an academic, you’ve poured decades into lectures and research, trusting UniSuper to safeguard your retirement pot. Then, one day in May 2024, poof – it’s all gone. Not hacked, not stolen, but accidentally wiped out by their cloud provider, Google. Reports detail how a misconfiguration led to the deletion of UniSuper’s entire private cloud account, backups and all, leaving 647,000 members locked out for nearly two weeks. Balances invisible, transactions frozen, panic spreading like wildfire. UniSuper called it “unprecedented,” but critics weren’t buying it. How does a fund managing billions in critical savings bet the farm on cloud tech without ironclad redundancies? Members were left scrambling, some unable to make urgent withdrawals, others staring at error messages while their financial security hung in limbo. Google took the blame, sure, but UniSuper’s reliance on a single setup exposed a glaring IT governance hole. It’s not just incompetence; it’s a betrayal that screams “we’re too big to fail-proof.” And in the aftermath? Apologies, promises of reviews, but no real reckoning for the stress inflicted on everyday savers. This wasn’t a glitch – it was a gut-punch to trust, and UniSuper shrugged it off like yesterday’s news.

The Bullying Boss: When the CIO Plays Tyrant

Fast forward to August 2024, and the rot shifts from tech to the top brass. A former investment manager slaps UniSuper and its Chief Investment Officer, John Pearce, with a lawsuit alleging bullying, harassment, and unfair dismissal. Court filings paint a picture of a toxic workplace: verbal abuse, job threats, unreasonable demands that allegedly pushed the manager out the door. Pearce, the long-time CIO steering the fund’s A$129 billion ship, denies it all, calling the claims baseless. But the suit’s details – if true – expose a culture where power trumps people, where the suits at the helm treat staff like disposable assets. This isn’t some isolated spat; it’s symptomatic of a fund that’s grown fat on members’ money but skimps on internal decency. Critics point out that in an industry preaching ESG values – environmental, social, governance – the “social” bit shouldn’t start and end with glossy reports. Members deserve better than funding a potential bully pulpit. The case is grinding through the courts, but the damage to UniSuper’s rep? Already done. It’s enough to make you spit – your retirement dollars propping up alleged tyrants while the rank-and-file eat shit.

Arms and Alarms: Investing in Controversial Weapons

By February 2024, UniSuper was facing heat from its own ranks over holdings in companies tied to controversial weapons. Members launched a campaign on platforms like Megaphone, demanding divestment from firms like Elbit Systems, an Israeli defence contractor linked to cluster munitions and military tech. Signatures piled up – over 700 strong – arguing these investments clash with the fund’s ethical and ESG commitments. Super funds, including UniSuper, defended the stakes as compliant with international treaties, but that didn’t quiet the outrage. Why pour members’ money into arms manufacturers amid global conflicts, when the fund waves the responsible investing flag? Annual meeting questions hammered the point: does UniSuper plan to dump weapons companies or those complicit in disputed activities? The response? Vague assurances, no bold moves. It’s hypocrisy on steroids – preaching sustainability while banking on boom-makers. For a fund built on university ideals, this stinks of moral cowardice, leaving members wondering if their nest eggs are fuelling the very conflicts academics decry. Bloody hell, if ethics are optional, what’s the point of the not-for-profit label?

Greenwashing Gambit: Sustainable in Name Only

Then comes May 2024, and UniSuper cops a formal complaint to the Australian Securities and Investments Commission (ASIC) from a member accusing the fund of greenwashing. The gripe? Misleading claims about “sustainable” investment options that allegedly harbour fossil fuel ties and other dodgy holdings, despite marketing them as eco-friendly. The complaint, lodged via environmental advocates, spotlights investments like Transurban Group, questioning if UniSuper’s labels deceive savers chasing ethical returns. UniSuper responded with reviews of disclosures, but in a post-Hayne Commission world where trust is paper-thin, this reeks of lazy oversight. ASIC’s crackdown on greenwashing – with penalties hitting other funds millions – puts UniSuper on notice. Critics rage that it’s not just sloppy; it’s predatory, luring members with green promises while the portfolio stays dirty. Your hard-earned cash, meant for a secure future, gets funneled into the same old polluters. It’s a slap in the face to anyone who believed the hype, and UniSuper’s “precautionary” tweaks feel like too little, too late. Outrageous – if they’re going to tout sustainability, bloody well deliver it.

Death and Delays: Botching Benefits for the Bereaved

March 2025 brought a scathing ASIC report on how super funds handle death benefit claims, and UniSuper didn’t escape the spotlight. The review of the industry’s biggest players slammed “insensitive” practices: lost paperwork, excessive delays, paltry compensation for screw-ups. One horror story – an unnamed fund taking over 500 days to pay out to a grieving widow – underscores the human cost, with ASIC noting systemic failures that hit vulnerable families hardest. While not every example pins UniSuper directly, the fund was among the 10 scrutinised, and reports highlight industry-wide issues like misplaced docs and poor communication that members have griped about. Bereaved relatives waiting months for pay-outs, exacerbating grief with financial limbo – it’s unforgivable. ASIC demanded overhauls, and super bosses apologised, vowing fixes. But for UniSuper, with its member-first mantra, this exposes a callous underbelly. Death benefits aren’t perks; they’re lifelines. Botching them? That’s not oversight; it’s indifference that boils the blood. Members’ families deserve dignity, not bureaucratic bullshit.

The Ponzi Whispers: Member Mutterings on Defined Benefits

December 2024 saw online forums erupt with accusations labelling UniSuper’s defined benefit scheme a “ponzi scheme.” Reddit threads dissected the auto-enrolment by universities, questioning if it’s unsuitable for some, reliant on new inflows to pay out retirees. It’s not a formal charge – defined benefits differ from contributions, with risks and rewards – but the whispers reflect deep distrust. Critics argue the structure, tied to employer whims, lacks transparency, leaving members feeling trapped in a system that prioritises the fund over flexibility. UniSuper pushes back with explainers, but the noise persists: is this really member-centric, or just a clever way to lock in funds? In a fund plagued by past governance wars, these gripes amplify the sense that loyalty flows upward, not to the savers. It’s the kind of grassroots fury that simmers until it boils over – and UniSuper ignoring it? Bloody arrogant.

Wake Up, Members – And TCAP Crew, Let’s Turn Up the Heat

So here we are, Part 2 wrapping up, and UniSuper’s still clutching those Cummins shares, a tiny stake but a telling one in their ethical ecosystem. Emissions fudges, labour shortcuts – it all echoes the fund’s own lapses. This isn’t evil; it’s complacency, a not-for-profit that’s forgotten the “not” part. Divest the dinosaurs, demand real accountability, back TCAP’s fight against enablers like UniSuper. Flood their meetings, write your reps, share this far and wide. The system’s bent, but pressure straightens it. For the truth, for the members, for fuck’s sake – make the noise.

Lee Thompson – Founder, The Cummins Accountability Project

Shareholder Spotlight : UniSuper Management Pty Ltd : Super Number of Controversies Forces Part 2