BJELKE-PETERSEN: You can presume anything you like …
While the Great Barrier Reef remained Australia’s most precious natural heritage, other environmental concerns were unfolding during the 1970s, not only in the continent’s coastal and inland waterways but also in our cities and industrial centres, in tandem with ballooning consumerism and population growth.
As technology produced more potent substances, problems associated with safe disposal of industrial toxic waste were becoming increasingly acute, and had given rise to an entire industry in itself, proliferating in every state. The oversight of hazardous waste material, often dumped out of sight on land and sea, had been neglected for years by lax government agencies.
Compounding the problem, in most states there were dwindling numbers of outlets where toxic waste could be disposed of with relative safety. Warnings from environmentalist groups, highlighting fears that seepage could contaminate precious underground water resources, had induced some local councils in most states to prohibit municipal refuse tips from accepting liquid or substance waste, especially if tainted with deadly cyanide, arsenic, mercury, pesticides or viral contaminants.
Many factories had to stockpile their toxic waste, but sooner or later they ran out of storage space. Some firms illicitly emptied hazardous liquids into bushland and creeks or down roadside drains, where it usually ended up in the sewerage system — and was eventually pumped into the ocean, posing health risks to recreational beaches and coastal fishing.
Other companies got hazardous waste accepted covertly in return for bribes at council effluent works. This practice had become recurrent among some, if not most, waste-disposal firms throughout Australia, according to a whistle-blower who contacted Four Corners during our initial research. He had recently worked for a Sydney waste disposal merchant and disclosed he had proof of illegally dumped toxic wastes, backed up by documentation, possibly incriminating, which he’d compiled over several months. And he was willing to spill the beans to Four Corners.
It was against this background that Four Corners in 1972 embarked on what was to become one of the most disquieting environmental reports screened on ABC TV, revealing evidence of corruption in the waste-disposal industry in New South Wales and other states, with significant implications for public health and safety. I was joined on the assignment by producer Gordon Bick. A first step was to interview our key informant, who divulged on camera detailed files on toxic waste consignments and locations where they were accepted for illegal dumping, mostly at municipal effluent works in exchange for kickbacks to council staff.
REID: On each occasion these loads were dumped illicitly, did money pass hands?
INFORMANT: On each occasion, yes.
REID: In the form of a direct bribe?
INFORMANT: A direct bribe, yes.
REID: How often would this occur?
INFORMANT: Every second day, if not every day.
The illicit dumpers often operated under cover of darkness and offenders usually had to be caught red-handed before they could be prosecuted. We filmed a park ranger inspecting a woodland reserve where a road-tanker driver had illicitly dumped hazardous liquid waste — a rare case in which the offender was eventually traced — only to be fined a mere $120, a penalty the ranger regarded as woefully inadequate. Asked what would happen to the site we’d filmed, the ranger pointed out several dying trees and shrubs. ‘Nothing will grow again here,’ he said. ‘The whole area is dead.’ He went on to say the liquid chemical residue would seep into a nearby creek and end up in Sydney Harbour, harming foreshore vegetation and fish life. ‘It’ll kill anything it touches.’ Some chemicals, he added, could mix with others, forming a deadly toxic combination.
We decided to gauge for ourselves the effect that millions of litres of hazardous waste was having on the city’s marine environment and iconic beaches. From a helicopter our film crew took aerials of the Bondi ocean outfall, one of several outlets continuously discharging vast volumes of sewage and diluted chemicals. Starkly visible from the air was a huge multi-hued stain, the size of several sports ovals, discolouring the ocean surface and exposed to changing winds and currents which could spread the effluence to nearby surfing beaches.
But to gain a more graphic impression we needed closer, on-ground visuals. There was only one way: get camera access and interiors of Bondi’s sewerage system.
‘Sure to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience,’ our Executive Producer said dryly. ‘Challenging and character-building. Don’t forget nose pegs.’
Clad in oilskins, a cinematographer, sound recordist and myself as reporter – producer soon found ourselves drifting in a rickety punt among a murky labyrinth of dripping tunnels deep below central Sydney’s busy streets. The sewer, Australia’s oldest, originally built in 1889, showed its age. Our guide was cheerfully upbeat. ‘Bit pongy down here, but you’ll soon get used to it,’ he said. ‘And in case you’re wondering, this is where that old saying “up shit creek without a paddle” originated.’
One of the more bizarre methods of effluent treatment we filmed was the disposal of human hair. Masses of accumulated hair strands from Sydney’s countless bathrooms were sifted and drained in tanks before being compressed into massive chunks, wrapped in hessian, like outsized wool bales, and trucked to a suburban landfill.
Our main breakthrough came with a tip-off that enabled us to get our film crew aboard a barge crammed with a load of drums containing thousands of litres of chemical tar waste. The barge left Sydney Harbour quietly at dawn, towed by a tug out to sea where the drums — more than 160 of them, some rusty and leaking — were heaved overboard. Several of the drums failed to sink and were left floating while the barge wallowed in a slick of self-made pollution, filmed from aloft by a second camera crew in a helicopter.
The dumping operation was carried out on behalf of the former British corporation ICI (Imperial Chemical Industries), which had been disposing of substances off the coast for well over a year.
Later we learned that dumping of industrial wastes was occurring around the continent, mostly in coastal waters, involving some of Australia’s biggest, most respected industrial corporations; not only ICI, but also the Ford Motor Company, Shell and General Motors Holden. Some of the more lethal substances dumped were cyanide, pesticides, hydrocarbons and lead sludge. But it wasn’t only industrial wastes that were disposed of under the waves. A number of nations, Australia included, had for years used the ocean to get rid of military hardware and other munitions. Shortly before Four Corners began its investigation, the Federal Department of Supply had dumped 23,000 tons (about 21,000 tonnes) of explosives off the Queensland coast.
Australia was then considering ways to curb such dumping by means of an international convention. Some nations had endorsed the treaty, but not Australia, which environmentalists accused of procrastination. I asked the then Minister for Shipping, Peter Nixon, if the federal government was dragging its heels on the issue.
NIXON: We’ve been active. Don’t let me mislead you on that, we’ve been active, but —
REID: But it still goes on?
NIXON: We’ve done our best … New forces have emerged [bringing] greater awareness of possible damage to the ecology of dumping at sea. These factors have brought a new consciousness on the part of government to study the problem.
A few days later, Mr Nixon’s department disclosed that the federal government had in fact recently sanctioned companies dumping substantial amounts of chemical wastes, including cyanide and pesticide poisons, into coastal waters.
The Four Corners program was the first in-depth report on a major Australian environmental issue screened on national television. Afterwards, in a jaw-dropping turnaround, the government promptly foreshadowed uniform federal and state measures to curb further ocean dumping, moves that were to bolster Four Corners’ reputation in the making as a pioneer of environmental reporting on ABC TV.
Since then, the expanding use worldwide of chemicals for economical
and social development has also posed human health as well as environmental hazards, according to a 2010 United Nations report citing Australia as one of the world’s largest generators of municipal waste per head of population. Noting that the absence of major environmental disasters in Australia, similar in magnitude to those overseas, had been due more to good luck ‘than good management’, the report points out that the accumulation in many countries of waste substances laced with toxic chemicals were now capable of affecting human brain development and behaviour. ‘Some chemicals build up in body tissues over years. Adult human beings today carry up to 500 measureable chemicals in their bodies.’
Be that as it may, the storage and movement of hazardous wastes in recent decades have spawned multi-billion dollar waste-disposal trade worldwide, giving rise to links with organised crime in various countries, including Australia, where bikie gangs have been reportedly involved in hazardous waste dumping and other environmental offences.
Human beings have been fouling their nests since civilisation began, to the detriment of their own and future generations. As one major Sydney waste merchant, who preferred to remain nameless, put it, ‘Everyone, everywhere, every day generates waste in some form or other. It’s our job to get rid of it — at a price. Sure, some shonky operators try to muscle in on the trade, but I don’t reckon we’ll ever go bust. After all, it’s an unending biz.’
Whether hazardous waste disposal companies, like the mining industry, will evermore be laughing all the way to the banks is anyone’s guess. But chances are the ravages of their legacy in terms of human and environmental harm could remain with us for generations to come. Can we afford to ignore it?
During a dynamic period of stand-out programs during the 1970s and ’80s, Four Corners attained record audience ratings, and struck it rich with a swag of journalism and TV industry awards (as documented by Rob Pullan in his book Four Corners: 25 Years, ABC, Sydney, 1986).
As one of Four Corners’ longest serving producers, often I’ve been asked what the program’s more memorable stories have actually achieved in terms of positive outcomes. To me the question is somewhat akin to the personal dilemma faced by some aid workers in the aftermath of a disaster, as they and the caravan of media teams move on to another calamity. In the long run, what have they achieved? Ultimately, they — like us — have no control over the outcome, but can only do the job before them as best they can. What I felt counted most — before considering subsequent audience or critical reaction — was the initial gauging of what we considered each story’s ABI — accuracy, balance and impartiality (or sense of fairness) — which underpins sound journalism. Another criterion, of course, was how well a story stood the test of time.
When this is applied to Four Corners itself — a program with the staying power to score half a century not out and become a worthy runner-up to BBC-TV’s prestigious Panorama as the world’s longest running investigative current affairs program — the outcome, I guess, is about as good as it gets.
3
‘GIRL TAKES OVER’
by Caroline Jones
‘GIRL WILL TAKE OVER 4 CORNERS’ was the banner headline in the Melbourne Listener In-TV on Remembrance Day 1972: ‘The ABC this week named a girl in her early 30s for one of its top on-camera jobs — new compere on ABV2’s prestige program Four Corners.’
Allan Martin, the executive producer who had invited me to come to Four Corners, was quoted as saying: ‘I agree that this is a very big post for a girl, but you must remember that Carolyn [sic] has not just suddenly “arrived”. She is a competent and experienced TV professional who has served in Canberra for TDT [This Day Tonight] during her six years with the ABC.’
The Melbourne Sun announced: ‘Carolyn [sic] Jones, the attractive ash blonde who has landed the compere’s job on ABV2’s Four Corners, would be one of the few women in the world to get such a position … In US television, current affairs top jobs are basically reserved for the men. It’s something of a breakthrough for women’s lib in Australia.’
A one-day publicity trip to Melbourne produced a full page in the Listener In-TV, revealing little more than my painful inexperience at being in the media spotlight. I allowed myself to be photographed perched on a high stool, in a mini-skirt, applying lipstick and answering questions from a reporter much smarter than me. The headline read (again, in blaring upper case): ‘CAROLINE DOESN’T KNOW HER VITAL STATISTICS, “I’M JUST SKINNY”’. The reporter observed, ‘She smells very feminine’, and ended with the punchline, ‘A lot of lady is Four Corners’ new lady.’
My new colleagues were kind enough to offer no comment but must have wondered if this was the sort of attention the program needed, especially when a columnist at the Daily Telegraph in Sydney felt moved to confess, ‘The Jones girl does not particularly appeal to me — as a sex symbol.’
The sexist language, unacceptable today, was not unusual then. But I felt embarrassed and miscast. My pride was in being a reporter. I was unprepared to become a public figure. It was not part of our ABC training and I had to learn the hard way, and with no professional advice, how to deal with media attention.
Feeling I had been gullible, next I took an unwise turn to over-vigilance. When the controversial new Cleo magazine did a lengthy article about my appointment, I rang the editor, Ita Buttrose, to take issue with one of the photographs, in which a smaller nose than mine appeared to have been superimposed on my face. Looking at it today, I don’t know why I complained; it’s a pleasant enough image. Perhaps they thought they were doing me a favour.
We had a mild altercation but I soon forgot about it and we have enjoyed a warm and respectful association over the years. In 1991, very graciously, she put a flattering photo of me on the cover of her own magazine, ITA. So I was astonished when, in 2011, the highly rating ABC television drama Paper Giants featured my insignificant phone call in 1972 as one of the trials Ita had had to endure as Cleo’s editor. Such is the hothouse atmosphere of the media, in which many a trivial storm rages in a teacup.
It was left to Matt White in the Daily Mirror eventually to elevate the tone of commentary about a woman presenting Four Corners for the first time, when he wrote: ‘For some strange reason a current affairs program seems to take a good deal of its character from the personality of its anchor man. Four Corners is luckier than most in its anchor woman, Miss Caroline Jones, with her air of quiet distinction and dignity.’ (He even spelt my name right.)
While I endorsed Mr White’s scepticism about the undue influence attributed to current affairs presenters, it was a fact of television life. And we could hardly avoid it, Four Corners having made its first presenter, Michael Charlton, a household name. Now, overawed to be seated in ‘his’ chair, I tried to channel some of his authority, if not his voice. Fortunately the day had passed when presenters were expected to adopt an English Home Counties accent.
My transition from the nightly TDT, where I had worked as a reporter from 1968 to 1972, to the weekly Four Corners was challenging. In his book Those Fabulous TV Years, Brian Davies describes the TDT production unit as a cross between an undergraduate review, an anarchist camp and an Oxbridge ‘High Table’. He wasn’t wrong, and I had enjoyed every exciting minute of it.
I remember hectic drives through Sydney afternoon peak-hour traffic to get our film to the lab for processing; pelting in my mini-skirt, well-suited to the purpose, along the corridors of Gore Hill to the announcers’ booth to record commentary; the aroma of Bill Peach’s cigar (smoking had not yet been banned on ABC premises) and the reassuring sound of his laughter as tension grew towards the 7.30pm deadline; playing hilarious, boisterous games of corridor cricket during the rare spaces in our 11-hour days; sharing a work cubicle with Iain Finlay and Bob Connolly (later to become a noted documentary-maker); and riding with Bill Peach on a TDT float through the city — with a regrettably laddered black stocking on public display — pinching myself to believe that I was really part of it all.
At high school, I h
ad been a sprinter, not a distance runner, and while the frantic daily turnaround of TDT suited my temperament, I had to adapt to the greater depth and patience required to produce reports for Four Corners. But I was so ready to take that step.
Towards the end of my five years with TDT, I had gained a lesson in the real power of television after producing some revealing programs about several unscrupulous inner-city Sydney landlords and the suffering of their tenants. The reports, edited by Dusan Werner, created controversy, but my cameraman, Ray Byrnes, and I were disturbed that our reportage resulted in reprisals against those tenants who had been brave enough to speak to us on camera. Some were evicted. For several weeks we kept in touch with them to check on their welfare, but the demands of daily television soon directed us to new assignments, and we could not continue our concern in any effective way.
For these reports I was given a Logie Award for contribution to television journalism in 1972 but the prize was bittersweet. With it came the realisation that exposing problems did not necessarily solve them, and that media attention could hurt innocent people. Ever since, I have been uneasy about receiving awards. As I began work on Four Corners, I resolved to calculate more carefully any risk to vulnerable people against the news value of an exposé.
I was at Four Corners from November 1972 to the end of 1981. The new Whitlam government ushered in a decade of change and Four Corners was questioning the status quo in many areas. John Penlington, Peter Reid and Frank Bennett had led the way in exposing the squalid living conditions and deprivation in Aboriginal communities. For many Australians, this was their first insight into a shameful inequity which Four Corners would continue to reveal, up to the present day.
The program was also characterised by its determined challenge to vested interests, bringing it occasionally into conflict with an ABC hierarchy still getting used to finding itself out of step with the political establishment of the day. Peter Reid’s investigations pioneered environmental reporting in Australia, demonstrating that some of the biggest, most respected industrial firms were serious polluters. Who could forget the dramatic sequence in his 1972 report, ‘Where Have All the Poisons Gone?’, filmed by David Brill and Richard Baillie-Mace, with sound by Bob Sloss, in which drum after drum of toxic waste was rolled into the ocean from a barge towed out to sea? In 1977, Paul Lyneham’s report on Utah Development Company of America’s mining bonanza in Queensland’s Bowen Basin revealed that not only rich coking coal but also $3 million clear profit were going offshore each week. I introduced the report by saying, ‘If Australia Proprietary Limited was a company listed on the stock exchange, we’d be considered as having been taken over.’ It would appear that little has changed in 35 years.
The Stories That Changed Australia: 50 Years of Four Corners Page 4