Tiberius with a Telephone
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Despite his lack of experience with foreign affairs, McMahon had enough confidence in his abilities to appraise the department’s strengths and weaknesses.12 One of the earliest results of this was his effort to remove Sir James ‘Jim’ Plimsoll.13 Secretary of the Department of External Affairs since 1965, Plimsoll had had a long career, glittering with achievement. He had supported Evatt at United Nations conferences in New York in the late 1940s; had been sent to Korea aged thirty-three to represent Australia on the United Nations Commission for unification and rehabilitation during the Korean War; had served as Australia’s permanent representative at the United Nations in New York (1959–63); and had been Australia’s high commissioner in India (1963–65). Yet his management and administrative skills were lacking, and the reverberations from the advice he had given to Gordon Freeth, on the Soviet navy’s presence in the Indian Ocean, were continuing.14
In this light, McMahon’s decision that Plimsoll should go was understandable. But the ill feeling it aroused within the department was unfortunate, and McMahon’s handling of it was clumsy. On 25 November, before even telling Plimsoll, he telephoned Arthur Tange, the former secretary of the department, now serving as Australia’s high commissioner to India. ‘I’d like to invite you back in Plimsoll’s place,’ McMahon said to him. While Tange believed the department ‘needed attention’, the request placed him in an awkward position. Only a few days before, Gorton had requested he take over the defence department from Harry Bland, who had decided he would retire.15 ‘Oh, oh, oh,’ McMahon exclaimed, as Tange told him this, ‘they kept me in the dark!’16
Denied his first choice, McMahon nonetheless remained interested enough to seek his opinions. After Tange reiterated that he thought the department ‘very sick’ and suggested a meeting,17 McMahon sent him a cable seeking both his concerns and a recommendation for a successor for Plimsoll.18
On the requested recommendation of a successor, Tange was blunt. In a letter written by hand to escape the need for a stenographer, he ruthlessly assessed various officers of the department before landing on the ambassador to the United States, Sir Keith Waller. A former private secretary to Billy Hughes, Waller had decades of experience in the department and internationally. He had served in China, Brazil, the Phillipines, the UK, Thailand, and the USSR. The measure of his excellence was apparent in his appointment as Australia’s ambassador to the United States: he was the first career diplomat to serve in the role. According to Tange, Waller was ‘the only top quality man with indisputable capacity to be a good Sec. of E.A.’19 McMahon took the advice. Waller was his man.20
Removing a permanent head can be fraught; but, luckily for McMahon, Plimsoll had already decided that he should move on. ‘If a Minister and Permanent Head aren’t getting on in a reasonable way,’ he explained later, ‘then the Permanent Head ought to go. There was no personal bitterness between us, but it just wasn’t working out very well and he [McMahon] wanted Waller.’21 Plimsoll did not much like his new minister, anyway. He thought him weak, uncertain, and craven. ‘I found him so disorganised and he could never remember from one minute to another what he’d already decided,’ he said. McMahon’s tendency to intrigue and manipulate, to gossip and meddle, was another factor: ‘I couldn’t stand that,’ Plimsoll said.22 Thus he made it easy. When McMahon snapped at him that he did not care for Plimsoll’s advice on what he could not do, Plimsoll ended it there and then. ‘In that case I wish to resign immediately,’ he told McMahon. ‘This is no good.’23
The deck was shuffled to ensure it all worked and that everyone saved face. Cabinet decided that Plimsoll would be sent to Washington in June as Australia’s ambassador to the United States. Gordon Freeth would become Australia’s ambassador to Japan, replacing the former secretary to the prime minister’s department, Sir Allen Brown.24 And so, early in the New Year, Keith Waller was woken at four o’clock in the morning by a call from Plimsoll. Cabinet had appointed him secretary of the Department of External Affairs. Did he accept? ‘Rather reluctantly I said yes,’ Waller recalled.25 His sorrow was immediate. When Waller informed his wife of the news, he felt moved to supplement it: ‘What a fool I am,’ he said.26
However Waller might have felt, his appointment would be one of the most influential actions of McMahon’s time as minister, both in the effect on the department and its make-up and structure, and in the evolution of Australia’s foreign policy.
AMONG the first dilemmas that McMahon confronted as minister for external affairs had to do with Vietnam.27 US president Richard Nixon’s announcements of American troop withdrawals had added considerable credibility to those calling for Australia to reduce its military commitment in the war-torn country. On 9 December, cabinet discussed a joint submission from McMahon and Fraser about a defence-committee report on Vietnam and the likelihood of America withdrawing further troops. The discussion resulted in a consensus that Australia’s involvement was too heavily reliant on American decisions about its commitment; thus, at cabinet’s request, Gorton wrote to Nixon, seeking an understanding that Australian withdrawals would be planned in tandem with American ones.
Nixon responded the next day through an intermediary. The US president suggested he was willing to have ‘meaningful discussions’ about the Australian and American military presence, but added his hope that any reductions in Australian troop strength would be offset by greater economic aid to South Vietnam. The Australian ministers did not recognise the opening that Nixon had left them to exchange a military commitment for an economic one.
What followed showed yet again the dangers of depending so heavily upon the Americans. On 16 December, at roughly the same time that Gorton announced Australian units would be withdrawn only in consultation with allies and when the military situation in Vietnam permitted, Nixon announced the withdrawal of 50,000 American troops. Gorton was forced to make a statement on radio and television that night reaffirming his statement of the morning. In doing so, he, McMahon, and McEwen had missed an opportunity to reset Australia’s Vietnam policy, leaving it dependent on American developments. The political cost was high. Gorton’s statement seemed inconsistent on an issue he had emphasised during the election campaign; Whitlam’s approach, of not replacing a battalion as it returned from a tour of duty, appeared prescient; overall, it further undermined public confidence in the government’s policy for Vietnam. The matter did not improve. In a January visit to Australia, US vice-president Spiro Agnew was unable to shed any light on his government’s intentions for Vietnam. Of this, McMahon was scathing: he found Agnew ‘naïve’ and ‘certainly unimpressive’ when he spoke with cabinet.28
The need for a new policy was obvious, as was a better understanding of American intentions. But the difficult relationship between Gorton and McMahon impeded that. McMahon thought he was being bypassed, and, early in February, sent Gorton a short, sharply worded letter that sought advice about Australia’s presence in Vietnam and the impact of the United States’ changing policy. ‘It is clear that the whole subject is still very closely held in Washington,’ he wrote:
For us to be fully informed, therefore, it seems to me that we need to give some thought about the next step and whether we should prompt the Americans to say something more.29
It was no use. Gorton had little time for it. He thought McMahon was ‘like a little boy scuttling around — you know, peeking out from a crack in the rocks’.30 A close relationship was not in prospect, for the simple fact that Gorton could not trust McMahon — and with some good reason, as debate over the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty would soon show.
Long in gestation and negotiation, the treaty’s progress towards fruition had become increasingly rapid over the previous five years.31 But Australia’s regard for the treaty was unmistakeably ambivalent and reflective of its continuing, quixotic efforts to possess nuclear weapons.32 Driven by the pro-nuclear Australian Atomic Energy Commission (AAEC) and its chairman, Professor Philip Baxter, vice-chancell
or of the University of New South Wales, those efforts had been initially directed towards acquiring nuclear weapons from abroad. In 1958, Menzies had pressed the British to share nuclear armaments with Australia; three years later, he had gone further, suggesting that Australia:
[…] secure now from the United Kingdom recognition of an obligation to allow Australia the right of access to United Kingdom nuclear weapon ‘know how’ (or preferably … the right to draw on the U.K. nuclear weapons stockpile) in the event of important countries in the general Pacific and Indian Ocean areas acquiring nuclear capability.33
Spurred by the proliferation of nuclear weapons (most notably, China’s acquisition of nuclear capability in 1964), the imminent withdrawal of the British ‘east of the Suez’, and fear of an American retreat from the Asia-Pacific region, in the mid-1960s the government began to redirect its efforts. It aimed to develop nuclear weapons, or, at worst, to preserve its options to do so at a later date. In 1967, Sir Leslie Martin, a scientific advisor to the Department of Defence, confided to the visiting chairman of the US Atomic Energy Commission, Glenn Seaborg, that the Holt government was ‘struggling with the decision of whether to produce a nuclear weapon’, and three months later David Fairbairn, as minister for national development, was restricting exports of Australian uranium on grounds that Australia might need it.34 Gorton’s elevation had spurred efforts further.
As a senator, he had supported Australia’s acquiring nuclear weapons; as prime minister, he was intent on preserving Australia’s options for doing so.35 He had pushed for construction of a nuclear-power reactor at Jervis Bay, was willing to allow the US to use nuclear explosives to blast a deep-water harbour at Cape Keraudren, in Australia’s north-west, and he signed a secret co-operative agreement with the French in June 1969 that would ensure Australian access to nuclear technology.36 Understandably, with these positions, Gorton was opposed to the Non-Proliferation Treaty; as Plimsoll said later, Gorton was ‘very sticky’ on it.37 His opposition was aligned with the AAEC, defence personnel, and a broad coalition of bureaucrats scattered through the departments of Prime Minister, the Cabinet Office, Defence, Trade and Industry, National Development, and Supply — the so-called ‘Bomb Lobby’ — who used every argument they could to undermine the treaty.38 As Lenox Hewitt had written to Gorton in 1968:
Will the Americans come to our aid, under ANZUS, with nuclear weapons in the event of a threat to Australia by Chinese nuclear weaponry? This year; next year; in twenty-four years from now? Will they???39
This was not the view taken by officials in the Department of External Affairs. Aware of the vehemence that underlay international efforts to stem the proliferation of nuclear weapons, guided by knowledge of Australia’s strategic position in relation to threats and allies, and already exercising influence on the treaty’s negotiation, its officials had the intellectual heft to oppose the ‘bomb lobby’ and Baxter, an energetic advocate whom McMahon later recalled pressing ‘strenuously’ for production of weapons-grade plutonium.40 But for a long time the department had been without a champion at cabinet level who could counter Baxter’s opposition to the treaty. While he was minister, Hasluck had thought it should be ratified, but was unwilling to contribute to the department’s policy-making,41 and Gordon Freeth had not held the portfolio long enough to make a mark on the issue.
Thus the tide of events preceding McMahon’s appointment had favoured the sceptics of the treaty. A working group convened by Gorton to recommend whether Australia sign had been loaded from the start. Its final recommendation, that the government hedge its bets by only indicating ‘a willingness to sign the treaty subject to understandings, qualifications, and possible amendments’, was of little surprise.42 An intransigence that was cloaked in seemingly reasonable concerns was the modus operandi of the treaty’s opponents, publicly and in private. During the election campaign, Gorton had emphasised that his government would not sign until it was assured that the treaty would be ‘effective’, provide ‘real protection’, and not endanger Australia’s security.43 As one observer noted later, Gorton’s strategy to resist the treaty was ‘simply not to sign the treaty rather than directly reject it’.44
Gorton’s public and private opposition, and that of a majority of his ministers, could well have seen the battle won. But McMahon’s appointment altered this. He was already a notable opponent of Gorton’s strategy on nuclear weapons and power. As treasurer, he had opposed Fairbairn’s 1966 proposal for a nuclear-power reactor and Gorton’s push for the Jervis Bay reactor. His objections had chiefly been to the immense cost involved,45 but he had also questioned the underlying rationale for both.46
Now, as minister for external affairs, mindful of both the diplomatic pressure that was building internationally for Australia to sign the treaty and the attitude of his department, McMahon saw that continued ambivalence and resistance would result in isolation. He came out in favour of signing the treaty. His department, finally, had a champion: one who was well-versed in how government worked, who was experienced with Australia’s politics — and who would go to extraordinary lengths to have his way.
Without Gorton’s knowledge, McMahon sought to involve the American government in the decision of what Australia would do. He wanted the Americans to change Gorton’s mind. To that end, on 30 January, McMahon met with the US ambassador to Australia, Walter Rice, and discussed his colleagues’ opposition to the Non-Proliferation Treaty. Then, according to Rice:
He [McMahon] suggested that if US were to influence decision a private message from president Nixon to Prime Minister Gorton should be sent immediately — before Wednesday [4 February]. He indicated NPT was a hot political issue within the government. I reminded him that PM had resented what he considered to be application of pressure by us a year or so ago and that Secretary [of State William] Rogers had assured Gorton personally that US would exert no pressure on Australian decision. McMahon felt that letter from anyone other than president himself would be resented.
Rice was not in favour of the idea. He told McMahon that the US would allow Australia to make the decision at its own initiative, and await the outcome. But he was in no doubt about what McMahon was suggesting: that if the US wished to ensure a favourable response, a message from Nixon to Gorton would be ‘the only effective way of producing results’.47 To involve a foreign government, even one as closely allied as America, in a matter soon to come under consideration by cabinet, was an astonishing step — yet Rice’s hesitation did not dissuade McMahon from his efforts to turn Gorton around.
A few days later, McMahon spoke with Gorton about the treaty over the telephone. He followed the call up on 6 February, advising that the window for signing the treaty was closing and that the matter needed to be considered:
In effect we have only three more weeks in which it will still be open to us to take two steps in regard to the treaty — first signature and later ratification. Once the treaty is actually in force it will be only open to us to decide whether or not we should finally accede.48
McMahon was bringing all the pressure he could to induce Gorton to back down. In his subsequent submission to cabinet on 13 February, McMahon argued that continued intransigence would be self-defeating. Japan and West Germany had now signed the treaty. It had garnered sufficient signatures to come into force in March. If Australia signed before the treaty came into force, it would have ‘locus standi’ to reserve ratification until its objections and concerns had been met. But once the treaty was in force, McMahon stressed, ‘the successive steps of signature and ratification are no longer open to us’. Moreover, he went on, a failure to sign could have adverse effects — on the availability of equipment, material, and technical information necessary for Gorton’s prized Jervis Bay reactor, on the attitude of the US, and on continuing stability in the Asia-Pacific region. His submission argued for the pragmatic course, emphasising that ‘the critical problem here is the manner of public presentation’.49
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br /> Gorton was scathing about this reasoning and the submission. On the margins of his copy, he dismissed the arguments: ‘This is just absolute blather,’ he scrawled at one point. ‘Gobbily gook [sic],’ he wrote at another.50 But when cabinet came to consider the submission on 17 February, McMahon had his way.
The debate was held almost entirely along the lines he had set. He made the argument over and over again: the government should sign the treaty now in order to avoid acceding to it later. Australia could sign, could fight its corner on interpretations and concerns, and only once they had been resolved would it consider ratification. Gorton thought signing would be ‘going back’ on the government’s commitments. He thought the treaty was ‘not effective’, was not satisfied with progress safeguarding Australia’s concerns, and did not believe the treaty would help Australia’s safety. He claimed that US president Richard Nixon had admitted he could not ‘see any point in signing’ the treaty. But even Gorton backed down. He was, he said now, ‘not strongly against signing’ the treaty.
McMahon made it easier for him. He did not think that Gorton was going back on commitments, he said. Australia could follow the line adopted by West Germany, signing while reserving the right to not ratify. And to suggestions that ratification was inevitable once the decision was made to sign, McMahon was firm. ‘The decision on ratification remains here at this table,’ he said. ‘And if we don’t sign, there will be questioning overseas as to what this country is up to. The solemn and profound step of ratification is one to be considered when it comes but it is not inevitable.’51 Cabinet agreed. Australia would sign, yes — but this would be ‘[O]n the understanding that signature does not in any sense commit the government to ratification, and on the further understanding that it would not propose to ratify until such time as the difficulties it now has with the Treaty are resolved to its satisfaction’.52