Читать книгу Lazarus Rising - John Howard - Страница 10

As 1973 drew to a close, Australians had begun to feel nervous about Whitlam’s lack of interest in economic matters. They were also troubled by Lionel Murphy’s provocative ‘raid’ on the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation (ASIO), when, accompanied by federal police, he marched unannounced on the agency’s headquarters demanding access to papers. The Attorney General did not usually behave like this. ASIO may not have been everyone’s cup of tea, but it was pledged to protect the national interest. Murphy also tried to radically change the divorce laws by regulation, rather than legislation. Inevitably this was blocked by the Senate. The new Government was beginning to unsettle people.

Ensconced in our unit in Wollstonecraft, Janette and I were blissfully enjoying the early years of married life. Politics remained the main preoccupation. From almost the moment we had met, it was common ground between us that I would go into politics. I wanted it, and Janette wanted it for me. I had standing and respect in Liberal circles, but the challenge was to realise my ambition.

In the second half of 1973, the NSW division of the Liberal Party decided to call nominations for the preselection of candidates for safe seats in the federal parliament. I knew the moment of truth had arrived. It was inevitable that there would be a number of retirements, and possibly serious challenges to other sitting members of long standing. Both John Cramer in Bennelong and Harry Turner in Bradfield announced that they would retire. Naturally, I nominated for Bennelong, where we lived. I knew that I faced a tough battle.

My principal rival was Peter Coleman, the state MLA for the electorate of Fuller, which was entirely enclosed within Bennelong.

Coleman had a lot of support. Cramer backed him quite strongly, regarding me as a bit of an interloper, and because I was metropolitan vice-president of the division, he saw me as the head-office candidate. That was not entirely accurate. Although I had a close association with John Carrick and, as well, had developed a good friendship with Jim Carlton, the new general secretary, both of them had a high regard for Peter Coleman.

The committee to choose a candidate then comprised 50 people. Thirty were from the local branches in Bennelong, broadly according to the membership size of each branch, and the remainder from the membership of the state executive and the state council of the party. The logic of this approach was that a mixture of locals and others, with the locals having a majority, would more often than not produce the right result.

It will sound self-serving but, at that time, I thought this was a very balanced way to choose candidates. Some years ago I became a strong supporter of the branch plebiscite system, in which every financial member of the party in a given electorate, perhaps subject to some minimum membership time, has a vote. I have more to say about this at the conclusion of the book.

I knew virtually all of the 50 people who were to make the choice in Bennelong; some well, others only casually. Apart from Coleman and me, there were 21 other candidates. It was a very strong field. Although not absolutely blue-ribbon, Bennelong at that time was regarded as a safe Liberal seat.

Campaigning for the preselection meant some personal visits — but not too many, because the culture of the party at that time deprecated the hard sell — as well as participating in various branch forums with question-and-answer sessions. I had a good idea how the 20 people from state executive/state council would vote, but was less certain about how the locals would go. Bennelong was exactly composed of the two state electorates: Fuller, held by Coleman, and Lane Cove, held by Ken McCaw, Attorney General in the Askin Government, who pretty well kept out of local party political matters. The branches in Fuller were loyal to Coleman, but those from the Lane Cove end were up for grabs.

There was a bit of drama the day before the preselection. Whitlam had called a referendum to secure Commonwealth power to control both prices and wages. It was an unworkable notion, and despite public concern about inflation, the proposal was doomed to defeat. Liberal workers in Bennelong, including most of the preselectors, manned polling booths in support of the ‘no’ case. John Cramer, as the sitting member, visited all of the booths in his electorate, and lobbied hard for Coleman.

Some of Coleman’s supporters alleged that I had not done enough to keep the polling places in my part of the electorate adequately staffed with volunteers. These were signs that I was seen as a big threat to Coleman, who many observers originally had assumed would walk it in because he was already a local state member. My mood was far from good the night before the fateful day, which had been appointed for Sunday 9 December 1973 at the Menzies Hotel in Sydney. I was very nervous about what had happened during Saturday, and Janette had to keep telling me to concentrate on my speech and forget about other things.

There was a lot at stake for me. This would be my third preselection. I had won the first, for Drummoyne, but had failed to win the seat. I had lost the second, Berowra, but had done better than expected. If I missed out on Bennelong, the view might form that perhaps I wouldn’t end up making it. This was, after all, where Janette and I had made our home. If the Liberals of Bennelong knocked me back, what particular appeal might I have to those in other Sydney electorates? Bradfield was no longer available. Its preselection had been held the previous Friday and had been won by David Connolly, a serving diplomat. A preselection was scheduled for Wentworth within a few days and, although I could have flowed on to it under the party’s rules, that would have looked like an afterthought. The sitting member, Leslie Bury, a former Treasurer, was facing a strong challenge from Bob Ellicott, the Commonwealth Solicitor General, and there wouldn’t have been many spare votes around for a latecomer whose first choice had been another seat.

A lot hung on the Bennelong outcome, and it was a gruelling day. All of the candidates were assembled in front of the preselection committee, and the rules explained. Voting was by secret exhaustive ballot. That meant, in the absence of a tie, preselectors were always asked to write on a ballot paper the name of the candidate they wanted to be the Liberal representative in the electorate concerned.

Each candidate was to address the preselection committee for a maximum of eight minutes and then a period of seven minutes was allowed for questions. With large fields of candidates, such as in Bennelong in 1973, the field was reduced to six (unless of course a candidate had secured an absolute majority), who were invited to address the committee again for a shortened period, with an equally truncated time for questions. After this, the balloting resumed until a candidate was chosen.

The tension during the day was extraordinary. Candidates could not listen in on any of their opponents. There was a candidates’ room, and although we were free to come and go, no fraternising with preselectors was allowed. There was plenty of false bonhomie, but the whole day seemed to go on for an eternity.

I expected to make the final six. The real question was what happened after that. There is no rule of thumb about the type of speech which will appeal to a preselection committee. It depends entirely on the man or woman seeking selection, the character of the electorate and the political circumstances of the time. In my case I decided that, because the best quality I thought I could bring to the Liberals of Bennelong was a political appreciation of the circumstances in which the Liberals found themselves in 1973, I would focus on what was needed for the Liberal Party to win back political support in the Australian community.

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.