ArticleThe day Gough Whitlam died I walked up the steps of Old Parliament House – where his historic dismissal was announced – to attend a tear-filled Labor party vigil. Labor MPs, Senators, advisers and a who’s who of party luminaries sipped beer and wine, shared war stories, and toasted the man who famously led Labor back to Government after two decades in the political wilderness.
I remember being struck by the depth of sadness on display that night. Though when I speak to others about Whitlam, I’m equally surprised by the contempt.
“What you see depends largely on where you stand” wrote author CS Lewis. Whitlam probably remains our most divisive Prime Minister. To some he was the messiah. To others – as Monty Python would have it – he was just a naughty boy.
His sacking – 50 years ago today – marked Australia’s greatest political crisis. It also demonstrated something important about our national character: For most Australians most of the time, stability, respect and civility eat ideology for breakfast.
Whitlam rode to power in 1972 promising change. Big reforms quickly followed: universal healthcare, a new national anthem, free university education – to name a few. An ideological castle was being built. But cracks began to show.
Public debt ballooned. Unemployment crept up. Inflation hit 17%. A sex scandal, oil crisis, and dealings with a dodgy foreign financier didn’t help. Ominously for Whitlam, the country felt unstable.
Then came the crisis. In 1975 Opposition Leader Malcolm Fraser refused to pass the government’s budget bill. Whitlam refused to call an election. And the Governor General Sir John Kerr – reportedly nervous that Whitlam might fire him first (which was a possibility) – sacked Whitlam (and initially, secretly) installed Fraser as caretaker Prime Minister, and triggered an election.
It was a royal mess. An elected government had been replaced by an appointed government. Debates continue to rage over who was most at fault. But one way or another stability had been trashed at the hands of ambition and self-importance. As it turned out the Australian people were about to send a message.
Before the dismissal Labor led the Coalition in published opinion polls and 70% of Australians wanted Whitlam’s budget passed. However just weeks later Fraser won one of the biggest electoral victories in history. Regardless of their political views, Australians’ desire for stability and civility had been offended. And they held Whitlam responsible for creating the conditions that led to the crisis.
After he was sacked, Whitlam asked the country to maintain their rage. But the people weren’t enraged. They were fed-up. They wanted a steady hand at the tiller. They still do.
Today Australia’s two most popular political leaders are Liberal National Queensland Premier David Crisafulli, and Labor’s South Australian Premier Peter Malinauskas. Both reject culture wars and govern largely from the centre. In Canberra, Anthony Albanese’s cautious centrist approach seems to be working too.
Meta CEO, Mark Zuckerberg famously encouraged his team to ‘move fast and break things.’ By contrast, from an earlier age St. Thomas Aquinas said that temperance and respect for others is the foundation of social order. When made to choose, Australians tend to side with the old theologian, not the new billionaire.
In the aftermath of Whitlam’s dismissal, glimpses of civility and stability re-emerged. Even in the moments after being sacked, Whitlam reportedly shook Kerr’s hand before he left the room. Across the country there was anger and confusion, but no street violence, no mobs, and no social unrest.
That evening, a young Coalition MP feeling uneasy about what had happened skipped the celebratory drinks that some of his colleagues organised. Across the aisle, a young Labor MP and a thoughtful union official noted this moment as an opportunity for the political maturing of their party. That day all three men – John Howard, Bob Hawke and Paul Keating – grasped the national affinity for steadfastness. The lesson would serve them well.
Whitlam and Fraser went on to reconcile and become friends. They ate together, laughed together, and campaigned together for press freedom and constitutional reform. When Whitlam died, Fraser declared him a great Australian and a good friend.
The angry fringes of our public square lead with ideological fury, trying to pit people against each other. However, the loudest voices rarely reflect our national voice. We don’t care for drama. Keep it respectful. Keep it stable. Keep it civil. We’re open to reform, but not at any cost.
As I left the Whitlam drinks at Old Parliament House that day, I thought about a fundamental pillar of democracy – how ideas can bring people together. The voices of polarisation understand this truth. So must the voices of civility. After all, a devotion to stability and respect is a principle in itself – and thankfully, a deeply Australian one.
Max Jeganathan is a Senior Research Fellow at the Centre for Public Christianity (CPX). He served as a political and social policy adviser in the Rudd and Gillard Labor governments and is undertaking a PhD in law on human dignity.