Lazarus Rising

Quite a lot of new, youngish business and professional people had joined branches in Bennelong, especially in the Lane Cove and Longueville areas. They were already angry with the economic policies of the Whitlam Government, and wanted a road map for a return to Liberal government. That was the pitch I took. The mood amongst many Liberal supporters was that while, in a very short period of time, the economy had begun to deteriorate, they were not at all sure that the Liberal Party had either the policies or the political strategy to offer an effective alternative. I intended to tell the preselectors of Bennelong what those policies and that strategy should be. Australia needed to stop spending recklessly, get on top of inflation, understand how the world economy had changed and stop insulting our traditional friends, such as the United States.

As I expected, I made the final six and was called to make my second speech and answer more questions. During my second appearance I sensed an interest in what I was saying beyond what I had experienced earlier in the day. It could have been imagination, but I nonetheless felt that. When the final six had made their speeches and answered further questions, the balloting recommenced, and finally Jim Carlton, who was returning officer, came to the candidates’ room and said that there was a result and that all of the candidates should join the preselectors for the announcement of the winner.

Back in the meeting room, Carlton was asked to declare the ballot. I shall never forget this moment. He announced that the ballot had been properly conducted and that ‘Mr J.W. Howard has been chosen as the candidate for Bennelong.’ In the final ballot I had defeated Coleman by 28 to 20. Two members of the committee had not turned up. At least one of them, I felt, would have been a certain supporter of mine. It’s as well he wasn’t needed.

It is impossible to exaggerate the significance of this moment in the life of someone who had dedicated his career to the profession of representative politics. I had achieved something that I had wanted for most of my adult life. I now knew that, all things being equal, I would be a member of the House of Representatives after the next federal election. I also knew that if I worked hard and was available to, and regularly communicated with, the Liberal Party branches in Bennelong, I would remain in parliament for a long time.

There was absolutely no doubt about my intention, or indeed ability, to both work hard and look after my Liberal Party branches. Already Janette and I had immersed ourselves in the activities of the Liberal Party in Bennelong. We had made, even at this early stage, some new and close friendships, particularly with people who had come into the party in reaction to the policies of the Whitlam Government.

As soon as I could decently escape the aftermath of the ballot result I rang Janette, who was overjoyed with the result. She came into the Menzies Hotel to collect me, and we invited plenty of people to the unit at Wollstonecraft for a celebration. It was a day that I would never forget, for the simple reason that it had launched me on a parliamentary career, which would be as secure as any in that uncertain profession could be. To say this is to put into context the real significance, in a parliamentary system, of winning the endorsement of one’s party for a seat in parliament. I have never forgotten my Liberal Party roots. I would never have been a member of parliament without the Liberal Party, nor a minister, and certainly not prime minister.

The evening of 9 December 1973 had been a high point, career-wise. The next day that experience was trumped by Janette informing me that she was pregnant. That was fantastic news. She had known for a few days, but had held back from telling me until after the preselection. It was one of many examples, throughout our life together, of the care and sensitivity she displayed towards my political career.

In the space of a few days my life had been irrevocably changed. We were thrilled at the prospect of having children. They have been not only the joy but, equally, the great success of our lives. To watch one’s children grow to adulthood, to see their professional and other achievements, but most preciously of all maintain a close and loving relationship with each of them, and also observe their obvious affection for each other, is the most rewarding experience imaginable. For me it dwarfs anything I may have realised in public life. I don’t say that lightly; I am proud of what I did in politics, but I am even prouder of what my family represents.

The Bennelong branches were very accepting of the result. Peter Coleman was most friendly; we both realised that we would need to work closely together looking after our common constituents. Eight years later, and after he had lost his state seat to the Neville Wran juggernaut of 1978, Peter entered federal parliament as the member for Wentworth. His daughter Tanya married Peter Costello in 1982. I continued working in my practice, expecting it to be some two years before my partners and I would need to work out arrangements once I entered parliament.

Janette and I indulged in some desultory house hunting, feeling that much as we liked our unit, we should have a house for our children to grow up in. Nine months later we bought a Federation-era house in a nearby street in Wollstonecraft. It needed a lot of work, but was by far the best investment we ever made. It was renovated and extended through the years, with a whole storey being added in the early 1980s. It was the house in which our children were raised; it remained vacant for almost 12 years whilst I was Prime Minister, and it was the home to which Janette and I returned after the election loss in November 2007. Incredibly, by the time we bought the house, in October 1974, I had already been a member of parliament for five months.

Despite Whitlam winning government in 1972, the Coalition, the DLP and independents controlled the Senate. As a result, many of the Whitlam Government’s initiatives in sensitive areas were blocked by the Senate. There were constant allegations that the Coalition was behaving in a negative fashion, although most of those who made those allegations ignored the frequent declarations made by both Gough Whitlam and Lionel Murphy, in earlier years, that it was the role of the Senate to oppose government legislation with which it disagreed.

Despite being aware, from closely following events in Canberra, that a lot of government legislation had been blocked, it came as a surprise to me when the opposition threatened to block supply in April 1974.

The catalyst had been Whitlam’s appointment of the DLP senator and former Queensland Premier Vince Gair as Australian Ambassador to Ireland. This appointment was designed to ensure there would be a sixth Senate vacancy from Queensland in the half-Senate election which Whitlam had called for 18 May 1974. If six vacancies were being filled from Queensland, there was a chance that the ALP could win control of the Senate. But Whitlam would be outsmarted in this ploy by the Premier of Queensland, Joh Bjelke-Petersen, who advised the Queensland Governor to issue the writs for the five Senate vacancies from that state normally up for election, separately from the vacancy caused by Gair’s appointment to Ireland. This meant that the Gair vacancy would be treated as a casual one; under the Constitution, casual Senate vacancies are filled by state parliaments.

There was plenty of Coalition outrage over the Gair Affair, and a lot of Liberal supporters wanted an early poll, but in the broader community, although there was growing disillusionment with the Whitlam Government, there was still a fundamental sense that the Government should be given a fair go. After all, Vince Gair had not been the first politically expedient diplomatic appointment. To my mind, the most reprehensible feature of the whole affair was Gair’s betrayal of his own party, the DLP, by doing the political bidding of the ALP for personal advancement. He was deservedly expelled from the DLP. It was the beginning of the end for the party. Its remaining senators would lose their seats in the coming election.

Whitlam responded to the Coalition threat by seeking and obtaining from the Governor-General, Sir Paul Hasluck, a double dissolution based on previous Senate rejection of several government bills. The election was to be on the same date, 18 May, originally chosen for a quiet half-Senate poll. In a double dissolution election, every Senate seat is vacant, so the original shenanigans about the Gair vacancy became academic.

Personally, I was pleased at the prospect of an early election. Within the space of a week, I went from being an endorsed Liberal candidate for an election still at least 18 months away to being someone who should start campaigning immediately. At long last I could get my teeth into the real business of winning a seat in parliament.

Naturally I campaigned entirely in Bennelong. My campaign was opened at St Mark’s Anglican Church hall in Hunters Hill by Andrew Peacock, shadow minister for Foreign Affairs. He was destined in the years ahead to play a major role in my political life. The local campaign attracted plenty of helpers.

Local branches of the ALP voted to install the left-wing legal activist Jim Staples as their Bennelong candidate. The Labor Party head office, however, would not have a bar of Staples, so they imposed the writer, and Whitlam confidant, Richard Hall as the ALP candidate.

Although I had nervous moments, particularly on the night of the election before the first results came in, deep down I expected to win Bennelong. I was far from sure, however, about the overall result. Whitlam campaigned extremely well, and was able to exploit the claim that his government had not been given a fair go. On the face of it this was a good argument. There had been a Coalition Government for 23 years, yet after less than 18 months the newly elected Labor Government had been forced to go back to the people by the non-Labor majority in the Senate.

One of the problems the Coalition had was that it had not really completed serious policy work when the election was called. This made it easier for Whitlam to claim that we were not ready for government. Much play was made of an intensive policy weekend which produced the Coalition’s manifesto ‘The Way Ahead'. Policy written in the pressure cooker of a weekend, in the shadow of an election which has already been called, is unlikely to be well thought through.

For my campaign we had established an office in Lane Cove Plaza. Although she was five months pregnant, Janette worked very hard and thoroughly enjoyed the campaign. She is a meticulous organiser and kept me and many others up to the mark with campaign tasks. I treated it as a marginal seat campaign.

Bennelong had scores of active community groups, particularly in areas of nature conservation. It also had, in 1974, an active Women’s Electoral Lobby, which played a particularly prominent role in the campaign with candidates’ forums, questionnaires and the like. The convener of the Bennelong WEL was Janelle Kidman, mother of Nicole. She, her husband, Antony, and children lived in the electorate at Longueville. They were strong Labor supporters.

They were cordial to me but I had no doubt that the majority of WEL’s members were sympathetic to Labor’s social agenda. The main WEL meeting was held at the Lane Cove Town Hall, attended by hundreds of people. I was asked my opinion about abortion; not surprisingly my rather conservative response caused an audible intake of breath from most of those in the audience. I hadn’t tried to sugar-coat the reply; that wins no one’s respect. On sensitive social issues it is always desirable to be direct and clear.

On polling day, 18 May 1974, it rained heavily all day, and must have been a nightmare for the booth workers. There were a record number of candidates for the Senate, and as a consequence the large how-to-vote papers became very sodden and cumbersome. It was a long day as I worked my way around each of the 34 polling booths in the electorate.

I went home to our unit in Wollstonecraft for dinner at 7 pm. I didn’t eat a lot, as I was very nervous. Janette’s parents came over for dinner and drove up to the campaign office with us. I had arranged for my mother to come to the office with one of my brothers. Wal and Stan had worked on polling booths during the day. We all waited in the campaign rooms, the arrangement being that as soon as a booth count had been completed, a scrutineer would ring through the result.

The first result was rung through at about 8.38 pm, and it was from the Congregational hall in Lane Cove. They were good figures, showing a lift in the Liberal vote of about 6 per cent. Figures then came in rapidly, and it became very apparent that not only had I won, but I had increased the majority won by Cramer in 1972. I had no reason to get delusions of grandeur, but it had been a good outcome. Nonetheless, Bennelong was not as blue-ribbon as Bradfield or North Sydney. The two-party-preferred Liberal vote was only 53–54 per cent. I would need to work hard. Having, at the age of 34, achieved my longstanding ambition to be a member of the national parliament, I had every intention of doing just that.

There had been a small swing against the Labor Government nationwide, its majority falling from nine to five seats. The Senate count took six weeks to complete, with the ALP picking up an extra three seats in the upper house. The initial reaction had been that Snedden had fought a good campaign and there was little doubt that he would be re-elected unopposed as leader. Nevertheless there remained, amongst many, real doubts about him as leader in the longer term. I shared those doubts. Even then I was attracted to Malcolm Fraser as a possible leader of the party. It was a tough judgement to make, but to me Bill Snedden seemed out of his depth as leader against Whitlam. There was too much bluster and not enough substance. He did not have strong philosophical positions on anything. I barely knew Fraser, but he seemed to have policy substance and clear attitudes on certain foreign policy issues.

Ironically, given his later change of heart on the issue, I had first been drawn to Fraser several years earlier when he had strongly and effectively argued the case for Australia’s involvement in Vietnam. He did a much better job than any other minister, or either Holt or Gorton. Fraser had presence and seemed to possess that streak of toughness and ruthlessness needed in a political leader. Although economic policy would dominate so much of my political thinking and action in the years ahead, at the time I entered parliament, foreign affairs was uppermost in my mind. It seemed that Malcolm Fraser’s attitudes on this subject were very close to mine.

After the election I remained a partner in my firm. There was no conflict of interest and I wanted to retain as much contact with the law as possible, feeling that this added to my usefulness as a member of parliament. Naturally I was not able to do as much work.

John Cramer had maintained his electorate office in the Commonwealth Bank building in Martin Place. So I decided, for the time being, to follow suit. Many of my federal colleagues from New South Wales, such as John Carrick and Bob Cotton, also had their offices there. It is a stylish old building and was used for cabinet, ministerial and parliamentary purposes up until the mid-1980s, when the Hawke Government finally agreed to the repeated urgings of the bank and shifted the last of the cabinet and ministerial facilities to the current Commonwealth Parliamentary Office in 70 Phillip Street, where they remain to this day.

7 THE HONOURABLE MEMBER FOR BENNELONG (#ulink_47be9cd8-bd36-5dc5-9d28-0fd56cc4cc7a)

When I took my seat in federal parliament in 1974, Islamic extremism was unknown to the world. International politics was still shaped by the Cold War; the Berlin Wall stood as a metaphor for all that divided East and West. Australian politics reflected that mindset; our nation was still in the slipstream of the fierce and divisive debate regarding our involvement in the Vietnam War.

There was still a serious constituency within Australia for the state having a larger share of the economic pie. In his budget speech on 17 September 1974, the Treasurer, Frank Crean, said, ‘The relatively subdued conditions in prospect in the private sector provide the first real opportunity we have had to transfer resources to the public sector.’

(#litres_trial_promo) He saw the private sector’s adversity as the public sector’s opportunity. Thirty-five years later, another Labor Treasurer would justify spending a large budget surplus in the name of shoring up, not replacing, the private sector.

The new parliament, to which I had been elected as the member for Bennelong, assembled for the first time on 9 July 1974. It was an unforgettable day for me. The sheer awe of entering the House of Representatives for the first time as an elected member is a feeling which has stayed with me ever since. Although I was a member of parliament for more than 33 years, I never lost my sense of respect, indeed a nervous edge, at being in that House of Representatives chamber.

As a new boy I soaked it all up. With Janette, by then heavily pregnant, I drove to Canberra for the opening ceremonies. My brother Bob sat in the public gallery with Janette to watch the swearing-in ceremony. The older hands were immensely courteous to the new members. David Fairbairn and his wife, Ruth, took Janette and me to lunch, making us feel very much at home. David had a distinguished war record in the Royal Australian Air Force: he had been awarded a Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC); and was an old-school gentleman. That evening there was a formal reception in Kings Hall in Parliament House, a building richly steeped in Australian history.

There was a party meeting at which the new members were welcomed. Bill Snedden and Phillip Lynch were re-elected unopposed as leader and deputy leader, but not before some jousting over whether or not the ballots should then proceed, given that the Senate count had not been completed, and the final composition of the parliamentary party not determined. This suggested to me that, even at this very early stage after an election, there was some unease within the parliamentary party about the direction in which it was heading.

After the week of the swearing-in, we next assembled at the historic joint sitting of the two houses of parliament, on 18 July, to consider and pass the legislation blocked by the Senate in the previous parliament, and on which the double dissolution of 18 May 1974 had been granted. It was historic because on the two previous occasions when a double dissolution had been granted, the Government had either been defeated at the polls (1914) or had won control of the Senate (1951), in which latter event no joint sitting was needed, as it had the numbers in both houses to pass the bills on which the double dissolution had been granted.

The Constitutional provisions covering double dissolutions had been inserted to provide a mechanism to resolve deadlocks between the two houses. They therefore allow a joint sitting of the two houses when a government has been returned at a double-dissolution election, but without a majority in the Senate. That was Whitlam’s position in 1974.

In the course of that week, I got to know many of my new parliamentary colleagues, and found that I was to share an office in a remote part of the house with my fellow NSW MPs David Connolly from Bradfield and Alan Cadman from Mitchell. They had also been elected for the first time at the 1974 poll.

The room was very crowded. At that time I smoked cigarettes, and so did Alan Cadman. It must have been stifling for David Connolly, a non-smoker, but he displayed considerable forbearance.

Unquestionably the larger New Parliament House has given excellent office facilities to the ordinary member and senator. Everyone now has some staff, and working conditions are a world away from what they were in the old building. Something has, however, been lost in the process. There is far less camaraderie. In the old building not only did the average member and senator have to share a room with one or two other colleagues, but this very fact resulted in many of the members and senators spending a lot more time in the party room. It functioned as a common room. It was immediately adjacent to a side entrance to the parliamentary chamber, and a frequent occurrence, after a division had occurred, was for members to wander into the party room to talk, make telephone calls or read newspapers. I know that this sounds faintly nostalgic, but it does have a real impact on the atmosphere of a parliament. It can dramatically change the group dynamic of a political party, especially during times of internal crisis.

Several long-serving members, such as Jim Forbes, Bert Kelly and Duke Bonnett, went out of their way to make new members welcome. We spent some relaxed time in the parliamentary bar, listening to the veterans. Jim and Duke were veterans of war as well. Jim Forbes had won a Military Cross in World War II, and Duke had served in the airborne units, or paras. They were generous with their time and friendship, teaching me a great deal about both good political representation and human nature.

During my very first days in parliament, Malcolm Fraser, shadow minister for industrial relations, saw to it that I joined him and several other colleagues for afternoon tea. He wasn’t overtly touting for support, but had taken the trouble to demonstrate an interest in new members. I already had a good view of his abilities and I listened keenly to what he had to say. He argued that the Coalition had to produce policy alternatives, not just oppose the Government.

For a brand-new member, the joint sitting was an amazing experience. All members and senators were seated in the House of Representatives chamber; there were special rules of procedure for the sitting, which was fully televised. Bill Snedden wisely used it as a forum to continue his general attack on the Government’s handling of the economy. Economic conditions were deteriorating quite rapidly, and further debate on the substance of the bills which had been blocked in the previous parliament was largely academic. Those bills were going to be passed at the joint sitting. I was placed at the joint sitting with John Carrick and Margaret Guilfoyle from the Senate, and one of my fellow new members, Alan Cadman. John and Margaret were very helpful.

Being a new member who was yet to make his maiden speech, I naturally did not participate in any of the debates at the joint sitting. I was pleased about this, as it was, uniquely, an opportunity to listen to speakers from both sides, and for the first time make my own assessments of their respective abilities. I was tremendously impressed with Kim Beazley (father of the subsequent Opposition leader), the Labor Education Minister, who was a very powerful orator.

I joined several parliamentary and party committees and became secretary of the opposition’s education committee. The shadow minister for education was Jim Killen, and our main line of attack against Labor was its ambiguous policy towards helping independent schools. After the joint sitting, parliament resumed a more normal pattern, and I had my first opportunity of witnessing Whitlam’s performance at question time. He was a fine parliamentarian, much better than Snedden. With his sharp wit and rhetorical flourishes he was superior to anyone on our side. That, of course, was not enough. The economic situation was worsening, and already the Labor caucus was behaving in a completely undisciplined fashion.

Frank Crean was Treasurer at the time and had an unenviable task. The economy was sliding rapidly and he had a Prime Minister who would never back him on really major issues and was himself often responsible for unjustified increases in government spending. On top of this the Labor caucus reserved the right to overrule the cabinet on the detail of economic policy. This was precisely what happened to a statement announcing certain economic measures, deemed necessary by the Government, which Frank Crean had planned to make on 23 July 1974.

Most of those measures were rejected by the Labor caucus immediately before the statement was due to be delivered. It was too late to alter the statement, so Frank Crean was left with the highly embarrassing predicament of delivering a statement full of rhetoric about the Government’s determination to take control of a difficult situation, but without any announcements of substance to support it. It was hard not to feel sorry for him.

After this incident, it was obvious that Frank Crean’s days as Treasurer were numbered. Crean was no great believer in fiscal restraint, but he did have some idea of how difficult the Government’s challenge had become, due to changed international and domestic economic conditions. Inflation had become a big problem and unemployment had begun to rise. By contrast, Gough Whitlam not only failed or was unwilling to acknowledge the new realities, but appeared hurt by them, as if such diversions had no right to interfere with his grand plan for Australia.