Lazarus Rising

by John Howard

  Some government MPs saw this as breaching agreed changes to our asylum-seeker policy, and when it was apparent that it would be voted down in the Senate, I scrapped the bill.

  In retrospect, the claim could be made that we had tried too hard to placate the Indonesians, but there was a lot at stake. The success of our border protection policy from late 2001 onwards had depended, in part, on Indonesia’s willingness both to discourage people-smuggling from its shores and also accept the return of boats intercepted by Australian naval vessels. We did not want that disturbed.

  It was clear from a positive meeting that SBY and I had at Batam in June that the relationship remained in good fettle. It would, nonetheless, always be a complicated one which needed constant attention.

  Closer to home the Anzac relationship needed revitalisation; Australians must stop taking it for granted, and the regular pattern of testy relations between Australian and New Zealand PMs should not return. Fraser and Muldoon did not get on, Hawke and Lange sparred regularly and the relationship between Bolger and Keating ended in acrimony over airline policy.

  Starting with Jim Bolger, for a brief period with Jenny Shipley and then for eight years with Helen Clark, I tried in a balanced way to change some of that.

  Helen Clark never forgot the courtesy I displayed to her when she visited Canberra in 1996, when she was Opposition leader with an approval rating below 10 per cent. It paid dividends later. Despite our considerable differences on political philosophy, we were able to work together in close and constructive harmony. On more than one occasion, we were each able to help the other out of a difficult situation. If there had been less personal trust between us, this cooperation would not have occurred.

  Kevin Rudd also worked closely with his New Zealand counterparts. I hope that this continues. It makes enormous sense. We are two closely linked nations with a rich and entwined history in a remote part of the world. We should make a point of getting on with each other. That is what our respective peoples expect of their leaders.

  After the crucial meeting with President Jiang Zemin of China in November 1996, I accepted his invitation to visit China, and this took place over Easter of 1997. It was thus the situation that I had visited Japan, Indonesia and China before undertaking a visit to either the United States or Britain, although Bill Clinton had paid a prearranged visit to Australia in November 1996. My travel schedule had not been deliberately planned that way, nor was it entirely accidental. The assumption was that I was a pro-American Anglophile. I didn’t mind that description, because it was largely true, but I put relations with our Asian neighbours front and centre of our foreign policy.

  In July 1997 I went to Washington, saw Bill Clinton and did the usual rounds of both Washington and New York. Then I went on to London and called on the only recently elected Tony Blair. He had defeated John Major just two months earlier and I am not sure that he was really ready for a visit from a centre-right Commonwealth Prime Minister. For two people who as time went by were to become quite close in the common struggle against terrorism, our first meeting was a little strained. He himself would say later that he found me rather understated. For my part, I wondered what his core beliefs were. He was certainly enjoying a wave of popularity. By coincidence, we both ended up on the floor of the London Stock Exchange at the same time. He received a delirious reception.

  We had a slightly difficult discussion about climate change. Coincidentally, on the way over on a Qantas flight, I had watched the British film Brassed Off. It told the story of a band from a mining town in Yorkshire winning a national competition in London’s Albert Hall. When accepting the award, the band leader launched a tirade against the Thatcher Government’s policy of closing down uneconomic coal mines. When I saw Tony Blair he remarked, with pride, that Britain would easily meet the targets contemplated by Kyoto because of the closure of so many coal mines. Naturally he didn’t acknowledge that many of the pit closures had been vehemently opposed by the Labour Party, as well as the trade union movement.

  This exchange intensified my belief that the Kyoto agreement had been Eurocentric. Adopting a starting point for measurement of emissions of 1990 was accommodating for the Europeans. Not only did it capture the benefits of pit closures in the United Kingdom, it also embraced the emissions reductions benefits of the extensive de-industrialisation of Eastern Europe, following the collapse of the Soviet bloc from 1989 onwards.

  Just three months later, I returned to the United Kingdom to attend the Edinburgh CHOGM. This found Tony Blair and me working together quite collaboratively, and I regarded this meeting as the beginning of an association, indeed friendship, between the two of us which has lasted to this day. He chaired the meeting with flair and style. I met Nelson Mandela for the first time at the Edinburgh CHOGM. He had a magnetic personality and it was impossible not to respect the personal generosity of a man who could be so forgiving towards people who had kept him in captivity for 27 years.

  Membership of the Commonwealth is a legacy phenomenon for Australia. Yet it does bring us an association with nations, especially in Africa, with whom we might otherwise have little relationship. The Commonwealth link can mean quite a good deal when certain bilateral issues arise. To me it always had two facets. Firstly there was the almost separate historical association with Britain, New Zealand and Canada. This could loosely be described as the ‘old Commonwealth’. The other considerable merit in the organisation was the African connection.

  In my time as Prime Minister, the Commonwealth’s greatest challenge and one on which, I am sorry to say, it failed absolutely was that of Zimbabwe. To be fair to other members of the Commonwealth, the real Zimbabwean story has been the failure of Southern African countries to impose any discipline on Robert Mugabe.

  It is a measure of the failure of the international political system that this man remains President of his sad, economically devastated nation. His personal avarice and contempt for any semblance of justice and democracy has brought forth worldwide condemnation. Yet he is still there. The reason that he is still there is a legacy of the white-versus-black struggle in Southern Africa. Mugabe had been a brother-in-arms in the struggle against apartheid, and gratitude towards him was understandable. But when that gratitude translated into a complete refusal to acknowledge the terrible damage he had inflicted on his overwhelmingly black population, it lost both reason and moral justification.

  Pressure against Mugabe reached a point of controversy at the CHOGM in Coolum in Queensland early in 2002. Commonwealth and other observers reported extensive electoral fraud and abuse in the recent elections in Zimbabwe. Mugabe’s party had corrupted the electoral process. Intimidation and cheating had been widespread.

  There had been a hands-off approach to him from leaders of most Southern African countries, and this took Zimbabwe into stalemate territory. The Commonwealth could not move without the active involvement of Southern African countries, especially the most powerful one, South Africa.

  The Coolum CHOGM established a troika to handle the Zimbabwean issue, with me as chairman. President Obasanjo of Nigeria and Thabo Mbeki of South Africa were the other two members. We met in London in March 2002 and, in a straightforward way, agreed that Zimbabwe must be suspended from the Commonwealth. That sent a public rebuke, without that rebuke really meaning anything. The practical consequences of suspension were simply that Zimbabwe could not attend meetings of the group’s heads of government or other bodies. Given the other preoccupations of Robert Mugabe, this was hardly going to trouble his scorers.

  The London outcome, seen as something of a mini-triumph for the Commonwealth, had merely bought time. The more important task was to apply pressure on Mugabe to hold a fair and fraud-free ballot. It was clear to me after the London meeting that there were three positions within the Commonwealth on Zimbabwe, represented by the three members of the troika.

  I spoke for countries such as Britain, New Zealand, Canada and the Caribbean states. Obasanjo spoke for northern and East Af
rican opinion. He was troubled by what had happened in Zimbabwe but was wary of putting too much pressure on Mbeki.

  For his part, Mbeki gave all sorts of soothing reassurances about ‘talking to Robert’ or ‘understanding Robert’s position’. When the crunch came, he would simply declare Mugabe a no-go zone. Agreeing on a suspension had been easy. Reaching a consensus on the next step proved to be impossible.

  It was decided in London that both Mbeki and Obasanjo, particularly the former, would talk to Mugabe and it was intended that we would meet again. Months went by, and it was obvious that not much had been done to take the matter forward. I suggested another meeting, and this was set for Abuja, the Nigerian capital, on 23 September.

  After refuelling at the beautiful Seychelles Islands, my aircraft continued on its journey to the Nigerian capital. I then received a message from President Mbeki, informing me that he had decided that he would not attend the Abuja meeting, that it was a complete waste of time and that, in effect, he and others should be left alone to continue their discussions with Mugabe.

  This was an astonishing communication. I immediately instructed our High Commissioner in Pretoria to convey in the appropriate terms my displeasure at what the South African President was proposing to do. He was to tell the South Africans that his non-attendance would be insulting, as I was already on my way. He ran the risk of doing real damage to the relationship between Australia and South Africa. It was a strong, but justified, response. Mbeki turned up at the Abuja meeting.

  Mbeki’s approach was dispiriting. As the most prominent Southern African leader, he had the power to bring about change in Zimbabwe. If he had pressured Mugabe to go, or accept arrangements for a proper ballot, either of those outcomes could have been achieved. The moral authority of the South African President demanding reasonable standards would have put the issue beyond doubt. Yet this did not happen. The troika never met again, and Mugabe continued in office. His nation continued its downward spiral, with the bleak achievement of an inflation rate of 100,000 per cent in February 2008. Many white farmers had their properties stolen, violence increased and Mugabe’s security forces continued to suppress political opponents.

  I was not alone in my concerns. Helen Clark was equally vitriolic in her condemnation of Mugabe. She exhibited the same frustration, along with Tony Blair, at the attitude of the Southern African countries.

  Incredibly enough, come the CHOGM in Abuja in December 2003, the issue was no further advanced. Zimbabwe had become an even more tragic, failed state. The chairman of this CHOGM, Obasanjo of Nigeria, formed a small group to discuss Zimbabwe, chaired by P.J. Patterson, the Prime Minister of Jamaica. It included Mbeki and Jean Chrétien, the Canadian Prime Minister, and me. Within a few minutes of the meeting starting, Mbeki and I had a heated exchange. Attitudes had not altered, Zimbabwe was still forbidden territory, and Mugabe would not experience any pressure from the Commonwealth to mend his behaviour.

  A power-sharing arrangement has now been instituted in Zimbabwe with Mugabe’s long-time opponent Morgan Tsvangirai serving as Prime Minister. Tsvangirai, who has suffered several family tragedies, has displayed immense courage. Another figure in that government deserving of praise is David Coltart, its only white member.

  Although power-sharing has led to some improvement, it is very much a second-best solution resulting from the unwillingness of neighbouring countries to stand up to Mugabe, who still controls the security apparatus. Zimbabwe was just about the most demoralising foreign affairs issue that I touched in my time as Prime Minister.

  The intervention in East Timor illustrated our capacity to play a larger role for good in our immediate region. That was later manifested in the Australian-led Regional Assistance Mission (RAMSI) of July 2003, which restored law and order and delivered better governance to the Solomon Islands. RAMSI, which involved several Pacific Island states as well as Australia, New Zealand and Papua New Guinea, was the culmination of a paradigm shift in Australian policy towards those states. From a refusal to intervene and an aid policy attaching few strings, Australia in 2003 began to insist on reduced corruption, better economic management and improved criminal justice as conditions of ongoing aid, as well as of any police and military intervention which might be requested.

  Led by Australia, RAMSI showed not only the Solomon Islands but also other small island countries that their neighbours cared about their future. Named in pidgin ‘Operation Helpen Fren’, the intervention force began arriving in Honiara on 25 July 2003. It was immensely popular in both Australia and the Solomons. Australians felt that this part of the world was our responsibility.

  Nick Warner, a highly experienced DFAT officer, headed the mission. He had something of the derring-do about him. One of his more difficult jobs would be in Iraq, where he was at the forefront of attempts to prise back Douglas Wood, a freewheeling Australian businessman taken hostage by terrorists. Amazingly, and only with vital help from the Americans and the Iraqis, he pulled it off. Warner did a first-class job in the Solomon Islands. My Government later made him Secretary of the Department of Defence. Still later, the Rudd Government appointed him Director-General of the Australian Secret Intelligence Service (ASIS). I am sure that he is in his element there.

  I received an extremely friendly welcome from the local people, when I went to Honiara on 25 August to see our troops, police and departmental officials, as well as members of the Solomon Islands Government. Hundreds lined the streets to cheer, with children holding up a banner reading, ‘Thank you Uncle Howard’. The biggest problem that Warner encountered was from the local politicians.

  Solomon Islanders loved RAMSI, because the army and police quickly restored law and order, brought the gangs to heel, and helped deliver a proper criminal justice system. When, however, the implications for many members of the Islands’ legislature of RAMSI’s insistence on better governance began to be felt, there was resistance. Regrettably, corruption was widespread. It was often just a question of degree. Sir Allen Kemakeza’ s government had originally invited us in; there were successive changes of government, including an interregnum under Manasseh Sogavare, who was anti-Australian and also wanted RAMSI gutted. Fortunately, later PMs backed RAMSI.

  Remembrance of wartime friendships was deepest in Australia for the ‘fuzzy-wuzzy angels’, of New Guinea, who gave such vital help to Australian soldiers in their struggle against the Japanese. There was a special bond, as well as the obligation of a former colonial power, but they constantly rubbed against corruption and governance issues through my entire prime ministership, culminating in my strained relations with Michael Somare over the Julian Moti Affair. Moti faced an outstanding arrest warrant in Australia, and a Defence board of inquiry in Port Moresby found that Somare had acted improperly regarding the use of a military aircraft to fly Moti to the Solomon Islands, where the PM, Sogavare, wished to make him Attorney General. Long years in power frequently result in abuse of the trappings of office. As developing countries go, Papua New Guinea has more to work with than most and should be doing better. The remedy lies within.

  Speaking at the launch of the Lowy Institute on 31 March 2005, I said, ‘Australia has no greater friend in Asia than Japan.’ The ties we now have with our one-time enemy are a tribute to the people of both countries. It has been a genuinely productive relationship for Australia.

  The most impressive of the five Japanese PMs with whom I dealt was Junichiro Koizumi, who held the post between April 2001 and September 2006; that was a long time by Japanese standards. Quite different from most Japanese prime ministers, he was flamboyant, reform-minded and determined that he, and not the bureaucrats, would govern Japan. This was quite a task; the power of the bureaucrats in Tokyo is legendary. Koizumi also wanted to break the grip of entrenched interests on the dominant Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), which maintained a stranglehold on Japanese politics until its heavy defeat in August 2009. The scale of that defeat demonstrated just how right Koizumi had been in his push for change within
the party.

  In supporting privatisation of the Japanese Post Office, he challenged the orthodoxy of the LDP. Campaigning on this issue, he won the 2005 election, bringing into parliament a clutch of new MPs, dubbed ‘Koizumi’s children’. They shared his ideas on economic reform. During my congratulatory phone call, he said that he would need to retire in two years, because that was what the rules of the LDP required. I told him that having just won an election with an increased majority, he was powerful enough to change those rules and should do so. He gave me the impression that he would not do this.

  As I expected, Koizumi did retire in September 2006. He was replaced by Shinzo Abe. A quiet, thoughtful man, he lasted just under a year in the job and hosted my last visit to Tokyo as Prime Minister. There was an unexpected glitch involving an Australian citizen, formerly of the Dutch East Indies (now Indonesia). She had given evidence to a congressional hearing in the United States of being abused by Japanese soldiers as part of the shameful ‘comfort women’ deeds in World War II. Responding to a question, Abe gave a somewhat ambiguous answer, which showed the continuing problem many Japanese have about the past.

  Unless resolved, this issue would cloud our forthcoming meeting. After a message to Abe’s office, he stated publicly how much he condemned the behaviour in question. I was thus able to welcome his comments, when speaking to the media, before my formal talks with the Japanese Prime Minister.

  Abe and his wife attended the APEC meeting in Sydney in September 2007. He joined George Bush and me, together with our respective Foreign Ministers, at a full-scale meeting of the Trilateral Security Dialogue during the APEC meeting period. Only days after his return from that meeting, Abe was replaced by Yasuo Fukuda, the 71-year-old Finance Minister, in the role of prime minister.