Lazarus Rising
I didn’t win the preselection; it went to a local resident, Dr Harry Edwards, who was a professor of economics at Macquarie University. It became apparent prior to the ballot that many local branch members wanted somebody strongly identified with the electorate. I did, however, poll much better than anyone expected. I finished third behind Edwards and the local state member, Jim Cameron.
This surprised a lot of people, particularly given the high profile of other aspirants, such as the Commonwealth Solicitor General, Bob Ellicott QC, and Dr Peter Baume, a highly respected consultant physician. They both won seats in parliament at the 1974 federal election. The outcome boosted my stocks in the party. Incidentally, my brother Wal was precluded by party rules from sitting on the preselection committee. The Liberal Party in New South Wales, to its credit, is a lot stricter about family influences than is the Labor Party.
My morale-boosting performance in Berowra was followed by an unexpected request to assist the Prime Minister, Bill McMahon, in the two months immediately prior to the 1972 election. By that time I was metropolitan vice-president of the party in New South Wales. I was asked to go full-time onto his staff, to assist with liaison between his office and the party organisation as well as provide some campaign advice and help out with speechwriting. After some arm-twisting by my two partners (one of them kept saying, ‘John, it’s time'), I secured the necessary leave from my practice and hurled myself into what turned out to be the final weeks of 23 years of Coalition Government in Australia.
I travelled around Australia with McMahon and, despite some hilarious and erratic moments, took from the experience a healthy respect for the dignified manner in which he accepted defeat on 2 December 1972. Janette and I were both with him at his home in Drumalbyn Road, Bellevue Hill, and he showed a lot of grace under pressure. Later, we drowned our sorrows with those great Liberal stalwarts John and Sue Atwill, at their nearby Woollahra home. Whitlam, despite the length of time the Coalition had been in office and the skill of Labor’s advertising campaign, won by only nine seats. As was the case in 2007, the swing in Western Australia was to the Coalition and not to Labor.
Having spent so long in the wilderness, it was natural that Whitlam and his colleagues would luxuriate in the very experience of being in government. Yet shrewder political heads would have detected warning signs in the narrowness of his victory. It was not the clear rejection of the Coalition that the Fraser defeat represented in 1983, and it was narrower than Kevin Rudd’s victory in 2007. And on the other side, of course, it was nothing like the thumping victories achieved by the Coalition in 1975 and 1996. The truth is, despite all the hype and mythmaking of a generation, the Australian public barely thought that it was time in 1972.
The obverse of this was that a narrow defeat for the Coalition left it with a false sense of complacency about the need for fundamental policy reassessment. Both the ALP and the Coalition went to the watershed election of 1972 on the assumption that the good economic times would continue to roll on. In his Blacktown policy speech, Gough Whitlam declared that Labor would fund its vast public sector expansion from ‘the huge and automatic increase in Commonwealth revenue'.2 He fantasised about annual growth rates of 6 or 7 per cent a year, displaying fearful ignorance of the economic task ahead. When the economic upheaval flowing from the quadrupling of oil prices and the collapse of the old Bretton Woods-inspired fixed exchange system hit Australia, the responses of the ALP Government would massively aggravate rather than mitigate their effects. Labor would be hounded from office in 1975, with its economic reputation in tatters.
The early 1970s were a period of huge global economic change and turmoil, yet the two major political parties in Australia contrived in their different ways to ignore this. Whitlam had no coherent economic plan for government; that is why he proved completely unable to handle economic adversity when it confronted him.
Most in the Coalition felt that having only just lost, there was no need for a full policy appraisal. There were plenty of reviews, but there was no fundamental examination of such things as the heavy regulation of the Australian economy, our high tariffs or our increasingly out-of-date taxation system. As for any questioning of centralised wage fixation, that was not even thought to be a problem.
Like most people, I assumed that Whitlam would govern uninterrupted for three years. There was no perception of what lay ahead, or what Labor had in store for the Australian people.
The story of the disintegration of the Whitlam Government has been told in much detail many times. Labor inherited a strong economy, with low unemployment and apparently good prospects for growth. Whitlam assumed that the benign economic conditions, which he had seen as the natural order of things in Australia, would simply go on. From the start he was uninterested in economic issues and paid little attention to mounting inflationary pressures. By October 1973 when OPEC countries quadrupled the price of oil, with all the inflationary consequences that entailed, inflation in Australia already stood at 10 per cent — well above what it had been less than 12 months earlier. Worldwide inflation became the big problem, and national governments were required to manage their economies with imagination and flexibility and take hard decisions which courted short-term unpopularity, not lazily assume that the good times would always be there.
Whitlam found economics irksome, far less exciting than the foreign excursions and progressive social posturing that he had been elected to champion. This disconnection between the needs of the nation and the disposition of its leader was to prove very damaging to the former and fatal to the latter. Although the chaos of 1975 is seen as basic to Labor’s annihilation at the end of that year, the Government’s fate was really sealed in 1973 when, in the face of a clear need for a fresh policy direction, Whitlam ploughed on regardless.
He never once confronted the Australian people with the reality of the times and, therefore, the need for a different approach. He may well have been surprised with the response he would have received.
Australians are pragmatic, worldly people who respond well to governments which ask of them difficult things, provided they are taken into the confidence of the Government, and the nature of the national interest is laid out.
If Whitlam had told the people very directly in 1973 that the altered world circumstances meant that many parts of his electoral platform must either be put to one side or at least deferred, the popularity he still then enjoyed as the first Labor prime minister in a generation would have carried the day.
When the people decide to change their government, they cut the new man a lot of slack. They are slow to admit to themselves that they may have made a mistake. As a consequence, the public will accept a change in the direction of a fresh government early in its new term, provided a proper explanation is given. Gough Whitlam seemed oblivious to these political realities. He received an early warning from the electorate that they were not all that enchanted with the beginnings of his Government when Labor suffered a swing of 7 per cent against it in the Parramatta by-election held in September 1973. The seat was won by Philip Ruddock. He became a close and trusted colleague in my Government. Philip was an excellent Immigration Minister and Attorney General. In March of 2010 he became the third-longest-serving member of the House of Representatives since Federation.
The swing in the by-election was much larger than might have been expected for a newly elected government after less than 12 months in office. A lot of this was due to growing unease about the economy; some to the already apparent erraticism in the new Government’s style; and, as a local issue, Gough Whitlam’s arrogant declaration that the people of western Sydney would have the city’s second airport at Galston (which was close to the Parramatta electorate) didn’t help matters for Labor.
The by-election should have been a real warning for Whitlam, but it wasn’t. If anything, he pushed even harder on the accelerator. It gave Bill Snedden, the Opposition leader, a huge boost, perhaps engendering some of the false optimism which led the opposition to threaten the blocking of supply some months later.
The Liberal Party of late 1973 was static, policy-wise. Its personnel were beginning to change, but only gradually and not at the top. Certainly McMahon had gone from the leadership, but not from parliament. Nigel Bowen had gone to the Bench, but other big names from government days, such as Snedden, Lynch, Fraser, Peacock and Chipp remained, as did the National Country Party trio of Doug Anthony, Ian Sinclair and Peter Nixon. In fact, given the length of time the Coalition had been in power prior to 1972, there was remarkably little turnover. That was because those occupying senior positions were still relatively young themselves. Those on the backbench tended to be older, and it was there that generational change would begin in 1974.
Meanwhile, Janette and I had scraped together enough money to buy a home unit near Wollstonecraft station, in Sydney. It is the suburb in which we lived until I became Prime Minister, and the suburb to which we returned after the end of my parliamentary career. One of our happy recollections of living at the unit was to wake up on Sunday mornings to the sound of tennis being played on the grass court in a large home next door. That home was owned by the L’Estrange family. Dr Jim L’Estrange was one of Sydney’s most respected paediatricians. He was highly regarded in the Catholic Church, which conferred on him the honour of a papal knighthood. One of his sons, Michael, would become one of my closest advisors as PM.
6 A SAFE SEAT
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.