by John Howard
There was an additional, and sharper, political and indeed cultural reason why I was glad the referendum had been defeated. Although it had been toned down during the referendum campaign, the underlying theme of so much of the republican drive was that republicans were better Australians than monarchists.
Malcolm Turnbull, who had led the republican campaign, made the oft-repeated comment on referendum night that whatever else I might be remembered for I would certainly be remembered as ‘the Prime Minister who broke this nation’s heart’.1 That comment didn’t bother me then, and hasn’t at any time since.
A year or two after the referendum, Lynton Crosby, the federal director of the Liberal Party, told me that Malcolm Turnbull wanted to rejoin the Liberal Party and become an active member. He would not, however, seek to do this if I had any objection. Apparently Malcolm was a little sensitive then as to what he had said on the night of the referendum. I told Lynton that I had absolutely no problem with Turnbull coming back. In fact I would welcome it.
There were many staunch Liberals who were also republican. I did not want support or opposition to a republic to be a criterion for Liberal Party membership.
Although there had always been many ‘eventual republicans’ in Australia, there was no support of any consequence for a change from within the political mainstream until November 1975. Whitlam’s dismissal turned many latent Labor republicans into more active ones, even though the events of November 1975 demonstrated that the Governor-General was effectively Australia’s Head of State.
Despite November 1975 illustrating that the prerogative powers of the crown were fully vested in the Governor-General, it was a fine legal argument. The political reality was that the dismissal of Gough Whitlam had produced an emotional reaction amongst many Labor people against the constitutional monarchy, because Whitlam had been sacked by the Queen’s man.
Malcolm Fraser joined the republican cause in the lead-up to the referendum although he gave no inkling of any such tendency during his prime ministership. Whilst he was at the Lodge he was every bit the perfect constitutional monarchist. He was the last Australian prime minister to accept membership of the Privy Council. The Queen also made him a Companion of Honour. Such things were entirely appropriate at the time.
Bob Hawke was an ‘eventual republican’ but he understood the affection of the Australian people for the Queen. When prime minister he did not push the issue. On national identity matters, he understood the mood of Australians much better than did his successor. When his Government officially made ‘Advance Australia Fair’ our national anthem in April 1984, he specifically rejected any link between that decision and a change to the Australian flag.
Hawke’s view was that things should stay as they were for so long as the Queen remained on the throne. He campaigned for the republic in 1999, and I am sure that he voted yes. I doubt that he was much perturbed by the outcome.
Paul Keating, of course, took a completely different approach. Strangely though, I was never able to find much evidence that Keating was particularly vocal on the subject before he became prime minister. I don’t suggest that his support for a republic or for a change in the Australian flag were anything other than genuinely held views. Nonetheless, it was politically advantageous, within his own party, for him to take the positions which he did on these issues.
He had narrowly wrested the leadership from Hawke, and much bad blood remained amongst party followers. He was very much a one-dimensional person whose sole preoccupation had been the economy, during his years as Treasurer. The republican issue provided a diversion from some of the economic challenges at the time. Moreover, his stance was appealing to many Labor intellectuals, academics and inner-urban elites, who were so influential in Labor Party branches.
In the 1996 election campaign I had promised that, if elected, the Coalition would hold a constitutional convention to consider the republican issue. If that convention produced a consensus for a particular republican model, then that model would be put to a referendum.
On 4 February 1997 I announced arrangements for the constitutional convention to be held in Old Parliament House in February 1998. It was to comprise 152 delegates, of which half would be elected and the other half appointed. The appointed delegates were to include leaders and senior people of both the Government and opposition in the federal parliament as well as representatives of state governments and oppositions. For the remaining appointed delegates, I was keen to have a mixture of people, both background-wise and with regard to their likely views on the issue.
Having appointed delegates meant that, amongst other things, young Australians as well as Indigenous Australians would be assured of a genuine say at the convention. The younger delegates made an impressive contribution. One of them, Julian Leeser, produced one of the best lines of the convention when he described the republican push as the ‘the zenith of a generation who value style over substance, to whom touchy-feely, kumbaya motherhood notions are more important than results’.2 Julian later became the Executive Director of the Menzies Research Centre.
The ballot for the elected delegates, conducted by the Australian Electoral Commission (AEC), was a first, because it was a postal ballot involving a general franchise. It was voluntary, and the participation rate was 45.3 per cent. The Australian Republican Movement (ARM), led by Malcolm Turnbull, and Australians for a Constitutional Monarchy (ACM), led by David Flint and Lloyd Waddy, ran teams in each state. The direct-election republicans (those who wanted the President chosen by a popular vote of all Australians), who played such a crucial role in muddying the waters amongst those who wanted a republic, did well in the ballot. Amongst their number elected were Ted Mack, Clem Jones and Tim Costello. Mack had been the Independent federal MP for North Sydney, Jones was a Queensland Labor identity who had served as Brisbane’s Lord Mayor, and Costello was a prominent Baptist minister and brother of the Treasurer. Later, when it had been decided that a direct-election model would not be submitted to the people, these three people went their different ways. Tim Costello threw in his lot with the other republicans; Mack and Jones campaigned for a no vote. Predictably ARM candidates polled the most votes, followed by candidates of the ACM. The republicans were the early frontrunners.
Polls continued to show majority support for a change, although it was never overwhelming. With the exception of prominent talkback radio hosts such as Alan Jones, most of the media was energetically campaigning for change. Fairfax and News Limited papers as well as the ABC were strongly pro-republican.
Supporting a republic was the fashionable attitude to have. Although it was a system of government up for adjudication, not attitudes to either the Queen or members of her family, the personal conduct of some members of the royal family over preceding years — which had provided much media fodder — was something that played into the public mood.
My opposition to a republic was well known. Liberal MPs were to have a free vote on the issue, and I was sure that the National Party would adopt a similar stance. Kim Beazley pretended that the parliamentary Labor Party would allow a free vote. It was hard to see much evidence of that in practice. They all seemed to be spruiking the republican cause. In any event, the ALP’s platform had been amended in 1991 to incorporate a commitment to an Australian republic.
One brave Labor soul on the subject had been Graeme Campbell, by then the Independent member for Kalgoorlie. Campbell had lost his ALP endorsement before the 1996 election but had won despite this. Prior to that election he had, amongst other things, dissented from Keating’s pro-republican push. Campbell’s sacking by the Labor Party (not over the republic) was politically inept and cost the party his seat. It was a stark illustration of the straitjacket Keating’s cultural agenda had imposed on his own party.
At a very senior level the Liberal Party was quite divided. In the republican camp there were to be three of the four members of the leadership group: Peter Costello, Robert Hill and Richard Alston. Peter Reith was a direct-electi
on republican. In time he became a vocal opponent of the proposition put to the people that the Head of State should be chosen by a two-thirds majority of the Commonwealth parliament. Alexander Downer was the most prominent anti-republican outside the leadership group. As the debate progressed, Nick Minchin and Tony Abbott became both articulate and well-recognised advocates of the status quo.
In the early ’90s Peter Costello had opposed a republic. I am sure that his change of heart was quite genuine, but it had potential political advantage for him. By the time of the convention, republicanism was a lot more fashionable than being a supporter of the monarchy. If the republican proposition had been carried in 1999, my position as Prime Minister would have been weakened. Although there was a free vote for Liberal parliamentarians, the reality would have been that on a fundamental constitutional issue the Liberal Prime Minister of the day would have been seen as out of step with public opinion.
To the intense disappointment of our critics, differences at the top of the Liberal Party caused no acrimony. We were determined not to allow our conflicting opinions on the republic to damage in any way the unity of the Government. Throughout the campaign Costello and I continued our close working relationship as Prime Minister and Treasurer. The Australian people quite respected the fact that the Liberal Party could be mature and disciplined enough to allow its two most senior figures to have different views but still preserve the cohesion of the Government.
Those senior liberals, both in parliament and the party organisation, who wanted a republic, knew that, in the final analysis, my personal opposition to a republic would carry a lot of weight in the electorate. Some tried to persuade me to change my position.
Tony Staley, the federal president of the Liberal Party, saw me at Kirribilli House in the middle of 1999 to discuss a range of subjects. During our discussion he put the proposition to me that, at some point, there would be a republic in Australia. His argument was that the Liberal Party would win the verdict of history if it were to preside over Australia becoming a republic at the centenary of Federation on 1 January 2001. He argued that I could win a special place in Australian history if I were to support a change to a republic for the centenary.
I understood fully what Tony was getting at. He was one of those Liberals who believed in a republic, and because of that belief saw benefit in the Liberal Party being associated with it. He also knew that the prospects of the republican cause succeeding were not very bright whilst the Liberal Prime Minister of the day remained in the other camp. I told Staley that I could not possibly change my position as I didn’t believe in a republic.
The constitutional convention, held at the Old Parliament House on 2 and 13 February 1998, was a special experience. It was quite unlike any other political gathering in the lifetime experience of those attending.
The debates in the old parliamentary chamber were cordial and the contributions generally of a very high quality. Behind the scenes there was plenty of rancour, especially between the ARM and those who wanted a directly elected president. There was quite a chasm within Labor ranks on this latter issue. State Labor leaders such as Peter Beattie of Queensland and Geoff Gallop of Western Australia were direct-election people. By contrast, Bob Carr was a minimalist republican who barracked for the ARM position.
The majority of prominent Liberal MPs who participated either supported the minimalist approach to a republic or the so-called McGarvie model. Peter Costello and Jeff Kennett both supported the McGarvie model. When the litmus-test vote for or against a republic, in principle, was taken, only Richard Court, Liberal Premier of Western Australia, and Rob Borbidge, National Party Premier of Queensland, amongst Coalition state and territory government or opposition leaders supported the monarchy.
The McGarvie model was named after its author, the former Victorian Governor Richard McGarvie. Its essence was that the republican Head of State would be chosen by a panel of former judges or vice-regal identities. The selection process would be seen as above politics. A minimum of change would be involved. It attracted a lot of support in Liberal ranks; David Kemp, as well as Costello and Kennett, backed it.
It was attractive to some conservative but minimalist republicans. It may have been appealing, academically, but would have fallen at the first hurdle with public opinion. People would have regarded the selection process as elitist. Australians who wanted a republic either desired their elected representatives to choose the Head of State or, increasingly, directly vote for that person. They would have had no truck with a system which handed that power over to a group of people they had either never heard of or long since forgotten.
I had deliberately appointed two prominent churchmen as delegates: Archbishop (now Cardinal) George Pell and Archbishop Peter Hollingworth. Pell came out strongly for a republic, and in the process of calling for firm leadership from the Liberal Party on the issue was probably having a bit of a dig at me. Hollingworth did not in the end take sides. I have long admired Pell. In an age of temporising, moral equivalence and political correctness, the bluntness of his adherence to what he sees as proper Catholic values is refreshing.
There was a brief but lively clash between Geoffrey Blainey and Neville Wran. Blainey had observed that some people had criticised the Governor-General, Sir William Deane, for ‘combining the twin roles of Governor-General and shadow minister for social welfare’.3 Neville Wran overreacted by calling Blainey’s comments a ‘shameful attack’ on Deane. It was a touch rich coming from Wran, given the ferocity of Labor attacks on Governors-General, both before and since.
Those who earned the greatest credit for having stuck to principle were the representatives of Australians for a Constitutional Monarchy (ACM). Led by Lloyd Waddy and David Flint, they refused to compromise their stance. They argued that they had been elected to defend the place of the constitutional monarchy, and that was what they intended to do without playing games. They didn’t have an easy brief, as most of the press ridiculed their position throughout the convention, salivating at any embarrassment for the monarchist cause.
Opening the Convention I said:
Never before has this historic chamber received such a wonderfully diverse group of Australians. Our moment in history is privileged. Our responsibility is great. Our common bond is Australia’s future. It is a vastly different gathering from one of a hundred years ago. There were no Indigenous Australians at the convention of 1898; it was an all-male gathering; the names were overwhelmingly Anglo-Celtic; and I am sure that no delegate was aged under 25.
I endeavoured to crystallise the central issue of the debate and to put my own position very simply, in the following terms:
In my view, the only argument of substance in favour of an Australian republic is that the symbolism of Australia sharing its legal Head of State with a number of other nations is no longer appropriate. As a matter of law, Elizabeth II is Queen of Australia. As a matter of undisputed constitutional convention, the Governor-General has become Australia’s effective Head of State. Ultimately, it will be for the Australian people alone in their wisdom to resolve this theoretical conflict between our history and present-day constitutional reality — to decide whether removing the symbolism which many see as inappropriate in the present arrangement counts more than the stability and inherent strength of the existing order.
I oppose Australia becoming a republic, because I do not believe that the alternatives so far canvassed will deliver a better system of government than the one we have at present.
I told the delegates that if a consensus behind a particular republican proposal came out of the convention, that proposal would be put to the Australian people in time for an Australian republic, if it won public support, to be inaugurated on 1 January 2001 — the centenary of Federation. I hoped the convention would speak with sufficient clarity to remove the need for a plebiscite, presenting a range of republican alternatives. I made it clear that on all issues of substance, members of the Liberal Party would have a free vote. In every
way, therefore, I had kept faith with the promise I had made before the 1996 election. Much as I personally opposed a republic, I laid down a course of action which could ultimately produce an Australian republic by 1 January 2001.
Once the convention was under way, it was quickly apparent that although a majority of delegates supported a republic, there was deep division in their ranks and Turnbull and his cohorts would need to make concessions to those who wanted the president to be directly elected, if they were to remain within the republican camp.
So a hybrid was devised, deliberately designed by the ARM to enlist the support of direct-election republicans. In the process it fell, not between two stools but, indeed, amongst several. Under this compromise, a committee of 32 people, comprised of 16 nominated by the prime minister and 16 from state and territory parliaments, were to propose a shortlist of candidates for the presidency to the prime minister. He or she was, in turn, to place a candidate before the parliament.
There was no obligation on the prime minister to nominate someone from the shortlist. It was a completely artificial public-consultation process, having only the illusion of public involvement. In practice it would have diminished the pool of people currently available for appointment as Governor-General. Many prominent citizens would not have involved themselves in the shortlisting process through fear of public knowledge of their rejection.