Lazarus Rising

by John Howard

  None of these considerations in any way inhibited John Elliott and his backers, either inside or outside parliament. They saw him as the answer. I was regarded as shop-soiled and ‘too political’. I may have had good policy ideas, most of which Elliott agreed with, but I had no ‘charisma’. Andrew Peacock, on the other hand, had urbane communication skills but was seen as a policy lightweight. Elliott was the natural alternative, as he could boast both success and high profile. Whenever he made speeches they attracted enormous publicity and plainly stated slogans gained wide coverage. The fact that he appeared to have a lot of money also did not escape attention. Ironically, given the outcome of the election, the Liberal Party had ended the 1987 campaign with a surplus. During the last two weeks of the campaign our fortunes had improved sharply, and applying the age-old insurance principle, a number of business donors had come good right at the end when, regrettably, their donations could not be prudently spent. So John Elliott began his presidency of the Liberal Party by investing heavily in staff recruitment and other activities designed to build the organisation. This endeared him to many at Menzies House, the Canberra headquarters of the party.

  In the public’s eye the Howard–Peacock rivalry was replaced by the Elliott–Howard rivalry. Elliott and I had a difficult, and quite public, standoff at the federal council meeting in April 1988. Miraculously this difficulty was overshadowed by the emphatic victory achieved by Bill Taylor, the Liberal candidate in Groom, on the Saturday of the federal council meeting.

  In July of 1988 I visited Israel, Italy and Britain. In London I saw the British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, who had reached the zenith of her power and influence among centre-right adherents around the world. There was great value in the visit for me. I returned to Australia via the west in order to address the state conference of the WA division of the Liberal Party at Esperance. It was here that I made the first of my ‘One Australia’ speeches.

  For some time I had been ruminating about the policy of multiculturalism. Inaugurated by Whitlam, embellished by Fraser, continued by Hawke, it was a policy with which I had never felt comfortable. Leaving aside for a moment the separate issue of the White Australia policy, Australia’s post-World War II immigration policy had been built on the principle of assimilation. We would draw people from many countries, but when they came here they would become Australians. They would be assimilated into the host culture; they were then called New Australians.

  That was a term with which I had grown up, and which I had always imagined accurately described the process. They were to become Australians and were new to our country; hence the term seemed to me to make good sense. I never believed that people who used the term did so in a patronising or offensive fashion. As time passed, however, and subsequent generations were born in Australia to those original ‘New’ Australians, the term was no longer appropriate.

  Sensing the political power of individual ethnic groups, Whitlam embraced multiculturalism. There was to be more emphasis under the policy of multiculturalism on the individual characteristics of different ethnic groups. Assimilation was discarded as a term, it being described as too patronising and Anglo-Celtic-centric. It was one of those areas where nuance and degrees of emphasis mattered a lot. If multiculturalism simply meant that there should be a greater emphasis on honouring the culture and land of one’s birth, then nobody could possibly object. By contrast, if it meant entrenching differences of culture without acknowledging the mainstream character of the host culture, then more difficult considerations were raised.

  My view was that Australia should emphasise the common characteristics of the Australian identity. We should emphasise our unifying points rather than our areas of difference. I extended this thinking to our approach to Indigenous policy issues, where I disagreed with Bob Hawke’s flirtation with the notion of a treaty. These were considerations I had in mind when I gave my speech in Esperance.

  At the time of my Esperance speech, there was separate debate in Australia about the pace of Asian immigration. Clearly there were some people totally, and wrongly, opposed to any migration from Asia. There were others who were simply concerned about the speed of change in particular localities. My response to several questions on this issue, during two radio interviews, was to state simply that if it were in the interests of social cohesion to slow the pace of Asian immigration a little then that should occur.

  The initial reaction of the public was supportive of what they saw, not as a racial outburst, but a commonsense remark about the rapidity of change. That had been my intention. I should have realised that my political opponents, and critics elsewhere, would seize on the comments and use them to attack me, as introducing racial considerations into debate on Australia’s migration program. Bob Hawke exploited the situation very cleverly by introducing a motion into the parliament declaring that considerations of race should never be used as a criterion to determine flows of immigration to Australia.

  When this motion was discussed in our party room, some, including Ian Macphee and others, argued that we should simply support Hawke’s resolution and the matter would then disappear. I argued against this, believing that, if we were to do this, it would be seen as a repudiation of my earlier statements. I had got myself into a bind and was certain to be damaged regardless of how the matter was handled. In the final analysis the party resolved to vote against the resolution. Four of our number, including Philip Ruddock, crossed the floor to support the resolution.

  The whole issue had done me considerable damage. It had divided the Liberal Party and diverted attention from the original issue of substance I had introduced during my speech in Western Australia, namely the real doubts I had about multiculturalism. It was a case of having antagonised everybody. Those who supported multiculturalism disagreed strongly with me. Those who may have agreed with my views on multiculturalism lost track of the debate as the Asian-immigration issue intruded, and those who might have agreed, on careful analysis, with what I had said about the pace of Asian immigration, felt that having raised the issue I had then gone quiet on it. I had been wrong to make the original statements on the pace of Asian immigration.

  My handling of the issue lost me the support of some press columnists such as the Australian’s Greg Sheridan, with whom I had had a good relationship and who over the years had voiced support for many of my positions on other matters. The whole episode weakened my leadership authority within the Liberal Party.

  In December 1988 I launched Future Directions, a policy and philosophical manifesto to which Graham Wynn of the Liberal secretariat made a major contribution. In time it would be seen as the document which foretold much of the philosophical direction of the government I would lead from 1996. Its themes were consistent and its policy content strong. It was a classic statement of the economic liberalism and social conservatism which would guide my years as Prime Minister. It depicted the traditional family in front of a white picket fence. There was much initial derision towards the manifesto, but a great deal of that receded as its thrust struck a real chord with middle Australia. I had tapped into something with a subliminal appeal to traditional Australian notions of stability and security in their family and national life.

  Months later, and after I had been removed as Liberal leader in May 1989, Rod Cameron of Australian National Opinion Polls (ANOP), the long-time ALP pollster, and a real professional in his business, told me that Future Directions had really begun to bite, that I was ‘onto something’ and that, by implication, the Labor Party was mightily relieved that I had been removed. The value of this document was not only in what it said but also its easy identification with its author. No political leader can convincingly advocate a policy or a set of values unless he or she genuinely believes in them. I believed in every element of Future Directions. It told Australians that I was very much a conviction politician.

  Although the Hawke Government remained in a strong political position, my own leadership appeared more secure in the early part of
1989. Unbeknown to me, John Elliott had quietly put his leadership hopes on hold at the end of the previous year, and the coming together of his supporters and those who wanted Peacock to replace me had begun.

  Emboldened by the strong reception received by Future Directions, I became more assertive on a range of issues. I persuaded the NSW division not to field a Liberal candidate against the National Party for the Gwydir by-election made necessary by the retirement of Ralph Hunt. The by-election brought into parliament John Anderson, who was to become my longest-serving deputy prime minister. His maiden speech was that of a person with very strong values and a deep and practical Christianity, who would apply what he believed to the daily business of politics. I liked him from the start. John remains one of the most genuinely decent people I have met in public life.

  Disunity between the Liberal and National parties had been such a negative for us at the 1987 election that I felt it essential, where possible, to overcompensate when it came to the two parties working together. I therefore set myself the task of achieving a joint Senate ticket between the Liberal and National parties in Victoria, feeling that if it could be brought about, thus emulating the situation in New South Wales, it would not only achieve the beneficial outcome of removing the need for three-cornered contests involving sitting members of each party, it would also be a symbol of unity.

  Having directly lobbied the Victorian executive, and with the enthusiastic backing of Michael Kroger, the new and most effective Victorian president, I carried the day with the Liberals, many of whom had been reluctant, and, with Ian Sinclair’s assistance, the leadership of the parliamentary National Party and organisation also came on board.

  Jeff Kennett, the Liberal Opposition leader in Victoria, was sceptical, but in the end the push I started produced not only a joint Senate ticket but also a rebirth of the state coalition in Victoria. The formal consummation of these new arrangements took place after I had been removed as leader, but the decisive votes had been taken by the party’s governing bodies in Victoria while I was still at the helm.

  A difficult and sensitive policy then emerged — deregulation of the domestic wheat market. At that time a single desk operated, both in relation to wheat sales abroad and also sales on the domestic market. The Government indicated that it wished to deregulate the domestic wheat market, and the Coalition was required to form a view. Unless the Coalition adopted the same position as the Government, it would reflect poorly on our economic credentials. Once again it would look as if the Labor Party were more market oriented than, in particular, the Liberals. I made it very clear to both Ian Sinclair and Bruce Lloyd, the two National Party leaders, that I wanted a change in policy, knowing full well that the overwhelming bulk of the joint party room, who were Liberals, would support my position. I suspected that privately several Nationals were also on side. Ian Sinclair knew the pressure this would put on the National Party, and Bruce Lloyd was explosive in his response. To him it represented a fundamental repudiation of something the National Party had always stood for. It was a challenge to the McEwenite orderly marketing tradition still very much in the ascendancy amongst Nationals.

  The Coalition decided to support deregulation of the domestic market while reaffirming the maintenance of the single desk for export sales. The Coalition held together, but only just. Despite his deep personal feelings, Bruce Lloyd pulled back from the brink of resigning as deputy leader of his party. At heart he was a good Coalition man.

  On both the issue of the joint Senate ticket and wheat marketing policy I had achieved results. There was no dramatic change in the polls, although the Coalition remained reasonably competitive. There was, however, growing confidence in opposition ranks. We had tackled and resolved difficult issues. Parties paralysed by leadership doubts don’t normally do that.

  It was through Michael Kroger that I first met Peter Costello. They had been friends since university days and were close allies within the Victorian division. Early in 1989 Michael led a push to strengthen the federal representation from Victoria in the parliament by encouraging challenges against sitting MPs who were not perceived as performing well. One of those readily within his sights was Roger Shipton, MP for Higgins, who had followed John Gorton in the seat after the latter’s departure from the Liberal Party in 1975. Shipton was a hardworking member, but not likely to make it to senior office in government or opposition. When John Elliott had been hankering after a seat, Higgins was always the one mentioned.

  Elliott had never publicly declared an intention of standing for Higgins, so when his parliamentary ambitions went on ice in late 1988, nothing was said. It remained the case, however, that Shipton was still highly vulnerable to a challenge. This created a perfect opening for Costello. He was young, very articulate, and with a well-developed reputation for political toughness. His career at the Bar had been successful, with his appearance on behalf of Fred Stauder in the Dollar Sweets case an industrial relations landmark, winning much praise. Costello had Kroger’s strong support. He lived very close to Higgins. Not surprisingly, he nominated against Shipton for the seat.

  Interest in Higgins was as nothing compared with the stoush which was developing in the nearby seat of Goldstein, held by Ian Macphee. He had been challenged by David Kemp, former close advisor to Malcolm Fraser when he was PM and also until very recently director of the Victorian division of the Liberal Party. Kemp was close to Kroger, but it was an oversimplification to describe his nomination as a Kroger-inspired head office push to throw out Macphee.

  The Canberra press gallery virtually demanded that I intervene in Goldstein to save Macphee. Being a ‘small l’ Liberal, he was one of their favourites. This was all about stopping the dark reactionary forces of Michael Kroger taking over the Liberal Party in Victoria, although nothing of the kind was occurring. As it happened, one of the key Liberals of local influence in Goldstein, who had encouraged Kemp to stand, was Sir John ‘Bill’ Anderson, a veteran of World War II and former president of the Victorian division. A party grandee, Anderson was also a man who Malcolm Fraser greatly respected, although they disagreed about the Goldstein preselection. The former PM strongly backed Macphee.

  Given the pressure I was under over Goldstein, not only from the press but also from a growing number of MPs, who always feel nervous and experience an extra charge of collegiality when one of their number is under challenge — after all, I could be next — I decided to do some research of my own. I rang Anderson and was politely but bluntly told to stay out of Goldstein. According to him there was a lot of unhappiness with Macphee within Goldstein branches and influential locals had invited Kemp’s nomination; there would be deep grassroots resentment if I poked my nose into the preselection. He confirmed what Kroger had told me all along.

  Kroger and I had built a solid relationship. He had been a huge help in my drive for a joint Senate ticket, kept me informed of what was going on in Victoria and strongly supported my leadership. He had lifted the morale of the party in his state. It is a lasting loss for the party that he has never entered parliament. He would have gone a very long way.

  Events were moving to a weekend of preselections, commencing with the Higgins ballot on 5 May, which Costello won easily. Kroger rang me that evening, simply saying, ‘Peter Howard Costello’, which was the future Treasurer’s full name. The next day saw the drama of Goldstein, with media coverage at absurd levels. Kemp won comfortably, it clearly being the case that local Liberals wanted someone else. Then on Sunday, Julian Beale, who held the seat of Deakin, defeated Ken Aldred for the safer electorate of Bruce. There had been a redistribution which had touched both seats. Aldred later defeated Macphee for the nomination in Deakin, despite the latter’s endorsement by Andrew Peacock, by then the freshly reminted Opposition leader.

  These preselections, especially the one in Goldstein, were an important backdrop to the sudden leadership change which occurred the following Tuesday, 9 May. Although each was a good outcome in its own right, the combined impact p
layed into the hands of my critics. When an MP loses his or her preselection, it is so easy for remarks such as ‘the boss could have done more to help you’, to gain currency. Peacock knew what buttons to push, and he pushed them. In the ABC Four Corners program which I mention shortly, John Moore cited my handling of the Victorian preselections (meaning Goldstein) as delivering the final impetus to the push to get rid of me as leader.

  The coup against me had been well planned to take place at a routine party meeting. I did not know about it until confronted by Andrew Peacock, Fred Chaney and Austin Lewis (leader and deputy Senate leader respectively) in my office the night before, and was therefore denied any chance to organise in my own defence. Peacock won convincingly by a vote of 44 to 27. I was devastated, as I felt that I had really begun to turn the corner with strong leadership on hard issues. I was angry with Chaney for not having warned me of what was coming. He was entitled to switch support to Peacock but, given our past friendship, should not have been part of the ambush. I felt that it was the end of my dream to be PM. At a subsequent news conference I replied, ‘Like Lazarus with a triple bypass’, to a question about my returning to the leadership. The best lines are never scripted.

  The post-coup atmosphere in the party turned ugly after the hubristic performance of Peacock’s numbers men on a Four Corners program when four of them, Wilson Tuckey, Chris Puplick, John Moore and Peter Shack, boasted about how clever and secretive they had been in planning and executing the plot to remove me as leader. That program alienated many traditional Liberal people, who felt that the change in leadership had been conducted in the ‘wrong’ way. There was a protocol to all of these things, and plotting in secret was not meant to be part of an open process of deciding just who could better lead the party.