And yet the proposal was simply for an Indigenous advisory body, to advise on Indigenous affairs. External to Parliament. Non-binding advice. No veto. Set up in legislation. Guaranteed by the Constitution. There was no proposed change to the Houses of Parliament whatsoever. It was a modest request given the discrimination and dispossession Indigenous people had suffered at the hands of government for so many decades. A request, simply, to be heard in decisions made about them.
Despite its modesty, the proposal got slandered by politicians. And Noel, the model’s chief proponent—who was born a non-citizen, who grew up in the mission at Hopevale under protection policies, whose people had endured racism, violence and dispossession, who came from poverty and got where he is only through his talent, intelligence, ABSTUDY support and sheer hard work—was mocked as ‘Lord Pearson’, a blackfella who was getting too big for his boots. And it was Malcolm Bligh Turnbull, multimillionaire ex-banking magnate, the prime minister of Australia, who did the mocking. Noel was arguing for a constitutional voice for Indigenous people—the most disadvantaged people in the country. Turnbull was preparing to reject the request.
Think about those power dynamics.
Noel was not the bully in this story. Not by a long shot.
I emailed Brennan in response to his letter to Noel, to set up a conciliatory meeting. On 10 July 2015, together with the constitutional conservatives, we attempted an intervention at ACU in Melbourne. Priest or no priest, the meddling had to stop.
Noel and I, together with Indigenous leader Richie Ahmat of the Cape York Land Council, sought to resolve our differences with Brennan and bring him on board with the body proposal. The meeting was hosted by Greg Craven at his ACU chambers in Melbourne. Julian Leeser was also present to show that conservative support for the proposal was indeed possible.
Greg asked Brennan to open with a prayer, to get us into the conciliatory spirit. We all diligently bowed our heads, despite the fact that a Jew (Julian), a Lutheran (Noel) and a non-practising agnostic Hindu (me) were around the table. I peeped at the men through lowered lids—all had their eyes closed as Brennan led the prayer, concluding with a group ‘Amen’.
We had a productive discussion in which we asked for Brennan’s input in refining the proposal and urged him to hold off on trying to kill it while we worked to build the necessary consensus. Ostensibly at least, he agreed to work with us.
Alas, despite our shared prayers, it was not to be. A week or so later he wrote antagonistically about Noel’s advocacy around the Kirribilli meeting. Noel retaliated with a terse phone call and promptly hand-balled any other engagement with Brennan to me to avoid further angry altercations.
‘Who will rid us of this meddling priest?’ I emailed in exasperation. We were at a loss.
At the same time, the political landscape was changing.
There was a sense of impending change in our lobbying trips to Parliament House. We met with Queensland Liberal Mal Brough, among others, in early September 2015. He sat with me and Harold Ludwick, a Cape York man who was a passionate supporter of the reforms. Brough seemed amenable to the proposals and cryptically indicated that he thought the political situation might soon become more favourable for our cause. Abbott was the roadblock, seemed the implication. In retrospect, Brough’s hints make more sense. It seemed he thought Turnbull would provide more effective and progressive leadership.
Later that same month, having squandered his political capital on a series of poor decisions that indicated a disconnect with the electorate—not least of which was that ‘dumbass knighthood’ for Prince Philip, as Noel later described it10—Abbott lost his prime ministership to Turnbull in a leadership spill, with Brough among Turnbull’s supporters. Our potential Nixon was no longer prime minister. Maybe a more progressive prime minister would be better for Indigenous people, we hoped. And perhaps Abbott could be pulled to a better position on the backbench now that he didn’t have his prime ministership to lose. This was how we mused in our more optimistic moments.
In our more pessimistic ones, we dreaded that things had gone from bad to worse, and that Abbott might not let Turnbull achieve anything easily. Noel told me to read John Milton’s Paradise Lost and pay particular attention to the poetic descriptions of Satan and his squad of blood-hungry fiends. That epic poem, Noel surmised, provided an insight into the probable post-defeat mindset of Abbott and his far-right faction:
… Him the almighty power
Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky
With hideous ruin and combustion down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy the omnipotent to arms.
Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded, though immortal; but his doom
Reserved him to more wrath, for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
This was basically going to be Abbott and his far-right posse for the foreseeable future, Noel postulated hilariously. Ever the grand and literary thinker, he was seeking to prompt our creative interrogation of the strategic problem. He would often use biblical or Shakespearean analogies to elucidate vexing political challenges—now it was Milton, and the imagery was not far off.
Condemned to dwell in backbench hell, and harried by fitful dungeon dreams of escaping the inferno and ascending once again to power, Abbott would likely be single-minded about exacting vengeance. He would not, we feared, be thinking about how to conclude his public service by establishing for himself a lasting legacy of honour and dignity by helping to deliver meaningful constitutional recognition of Indigenous peoples—the most disadvantaged, disempowered and dispossessed people in the country. No.
If Milton knew anything about the forces of nature, humanity, the ways of men, and heaven and hell, Abbott would likely be thinking of only one thing: how to make Turnbull pay.
10
The Art of Persuasion
WHILE AUSTRALIAN POLITICAL leaders were knifing each other in the back in their struggles for power, a small army of Indigenous advocates was building, united by the desire to address their powerlessness. Led by the intellectual forces of Noel, Megan Davis and Marcia Langton, they were excellent persuaders: articulate, intelligent and, most of all, passionate—for it was their people they were advocating for. Each saw the immense value in Indigenous peoples having a constitutional voice in their affairs and was prepared to work to make it happen. I would help them prepare, providing material, writing support and offering persuasive tips.
In addition to our positive meetings with Turnbull and Porter prior to the spill, we’d been meeting several other politicians. On these lobbying trips, I would initially accompany Noel and sometimes Marcia. Later, other Indigenous advocates championing the Indigenous body proposal would come with me instead, among them Rachel Perkins; dedicated Cape Yorker Harold Ludwick; and bright young leaders Adam Bray and Nigel Craig. We would also be joined by (King) Nolan Hunter, who ever since our New Zealand trip had been a steadfast supporter of the approach. Sean Gordon began advocating in his own right. And Davis, as always, was using her ever-expanding national and international academic profile and cultural influence to make powerful speeches and write articles in favour of substantive constitutional recognition.
I usually joined Uphold & Recognise on their lobbying trips, too. In 2016, Damien hired an impressive young advocate, David Allinson, a law and philosophy student who demonstrated a passionate interest in Indigenous constitutional recognition from a conservative perspective. With his British accent and affable manner, David proved an energetic addition to the Uphold & Recognise team. Together, our two organisat
ions were making a significant effort at pulling some Coalition members across the line. Others remained immovable. We also tried to persuade conservative commentators.
Prior to the leadership spill, journalist for The Australian Chris Kenny wrote a negative piece arguing that our proposed Indigenous body was too complicated. Noel immediately urged me to go meet with him. In June 2015, Kenny met me near the News Corp building in Sydney. We spoke in hushed tones in the cramped cafe and I laid out the problem: Indigenous people want substantive reform, but too many politicians think this is only about symbolism. There are dual conversations happening, I said, and they are clashing. I took him through the history of Indigenous advocacy and explained the logic of our proposal, why it was a conservative and sensible, noble compromise. Kenny asked me to send him as much material as possible. I did, and even pasted a chronology of the history of Indigenous advocacy into the email.
A week later, Kenny emailed to say he had written a ‘pretty strong endorsement’ of our approach for the Saturday Oz. He had turned from critic to supporter. Kenny thought an institutional voice for Indigenous people was ‘the least we can do’ and felt the proposal aligned with conservative themes of responsibility and equality. He was intelligent and capable of nuanced and empathetic thought, and on this issue, he was prepared to take a moral stand. His writing on the proposed Indigenous advisory body, a Declaration and even the fraught (for his conservative constituency) concept of a treaty was impressive for its nuance and sensitivity.
Kenny suggested I meet with other right-wing commentators Andrew Bolt and Greg Sheridan, and made email introductions. I wouldn’t change their minds, Kenny advised, but I’d likely take the hard edge off their ‘No’ case advocacy. He also introduced me to Chris Merritt, legal affairs editor at The Australian. Over time Merritt, too, became persuaded and wrote compelling legal arguments for the proposed constitutional advisory body.
Damien took to teasing me with the title ‘Queen of Sheba’, after the African monarch said to have beguiled King Solomon with her exotic spices and gifts—implying it was my feminine wiles that made me an effective persuader. I told him to stop being jealous, but suggested he refer to me with that title from now on—which he occasionally did. He and I had begun coediting a collection of essays to drum up right-wing support and propel discussion of the package of reforms. It was to be called The Forgotten People: Liberal and Conservative Approaches to Recognising Indigenous Peoples. Damien was accustomed to writing and publishing books. I was not. He graciously allowed me to coedit the collection with him, and also include an essay of my own.
The book turned out to be an excellent persuasive tool—a way of signing up supporters and getting them on the record. It was also a means for promotion, media and advocacy. Essay contributors would include Chris Kenny, Greg Craven, Anne Twomey, former governor-general Michael Jeffery, Cardinal George Pell, Tim Wilson and Julian Leeser, among others. Kenny, Craven, Twomey, Pell, Leeser, Freeman and I all used our essays to make the case for a constitutional body. Others argued for a Declaration or recognition generally. Australian Christian Lobby right-winger Lyle Shelton even wrote empathetically about frontier violence and the need for national atonement. Working on the book was a revelation. It showed me how much goodwill exists for this cause, even on the right.
Damien asked Nationals senator Bridget McKenzie to contribute an essay. She couldn’t, but remained enthusiastic about the proposals. He also asked Christian Porter to contribute, due to his previously expressed support: Porter agreed. He later withdrew, citing lack of time, but still provided a written endorsement for the book. Damien and I met with Porter on 19 April 2016. At this meeting, Porter indicated even more enthusiasm for the advisory body proposal, describing it as an ‘elegant solution’. We were so encouraged we asked him if he would launch our book in Perth, and we spent the next several months trying to organise a date that worked for him.
The Forgotten People was released in March 2016. Reverend Tim Costello, former head of World Vision, had agreed to launch it in Melbourne in June. Porter had agreed to launch it in Perth. Things were looking up.
Over these years, we met with senior staff and legal advisers in the attorney-general’s office, who informed us that the Indigenous body proposal, something along the lines of Anne’s drafting, was legally sound and their preferred constitutional approach. They had also been engaging productively with Julian, who was championing the merits of the reforms.
Some younger MPs in the Liberal Party began to come quietly on board, particularly up-and-comers like good-willed right-winger Alex Hawke and optimistic progressive Craig Laundy, both from Sydney, as well as the quirky and canny Andrew Laming of Queensland—each indicated they would be willing to support the reforms we were proposing, including an Indigenous constitutional body, over minimalism. They were impressed with our work and encouraged us to keep going. We got the beginnings of good vibes and indications of interest from newcomer conservative Andrew Hastie from Western Australia; and Liberal Tim Wilson, having contributed to our book, was demonstrating increasing enthusiasm about getting actively involved in the debate. Even ex-IPA Victorian senator James Paterson initially seemed to indicate some amenability to the logic of our proposal, while also mischievously suggesting that Australians were not free to candidly discuss the issue due to the supposed free speech restrictions imposed by section 18C of the Racial Discrimination Act (the baseness and dishonesty of Turnbull’s rejection and the ensuing debate, however, has since demonstrated without a doubt that free speech in Australia—even fallacious and bigoted speech—is alive and well). With extraordinary impudence, Paterson seemed to suggest that if Noel came out in support of repealing 18C, then a free discussion could be had and he could think about supporting our constitutional reform proposal. Yeah right, I thought, and Noel agreed. Some older Liberal Party members, including Russell Broadbent of Victoria, also became increasingly supportive but noted that lowly backbenchers couldn’t bring this home alone—it needed a party leader to champion the cause, so they could rally around him. It was sound advice.
In addition to McKenzie, we were finding pockets of significant goodwill among members of the National Party, including (at that stage) Nationals leader Barnaby Joyce, who, in our brief interactions, indicated general enthusiasm about the idea of recognition. This accorded with Noel’s experience in the 1990s that good-hearted country people with significant Aboriginal populations in their electorates could often be persuaded to support fair reform proposals. Even the bombastic Queensland conservative George Christensen shocked us initially with a passionate statement about the need to protect Indigenous culture and heritage, though he eventually landed in opposition to the proposal.
As for crossbenchers, the Greens were supportive, and the Nick Xenophon Team was positive and understood our radical centre approach—they even began adopting the term. A few tense meetings with Pauline Hanson began to build some interesting rapport. On Noel’s instructions, I’d written for him an opinion piece praising her defence of Julian Assange, which was published in the Herald Sun the day Damien, David and I met her for the first time. The olive branch from Noel had an impact. After initial hostility, Hanson in that meeting became drawn in by arguments that respected, rather than repudiated, Australia’s British heritage, and she even told us that she felt Indigenous culture was special and should be celebrated. To our surprise, she said she thought we ‘could bring Australians along’ with these constitutional recognition arguments. Upon saying goodbye, she squeezed my arm and told me I looked ‘beautiful in that blue dress’. Hanson, we discovered, was a striking personality: a strangely alluring mixture of vulnerability and rancour. Could we get her on board?
One of Hanson’s senior advisers was in favour of our approach and began to attend our promotional events with her imprimatur, ‘because it’s important’, we were told. These indications were positive, but a following meeting with Noel and me was not nearly so productive. This time, Hanson’s opposition be
gan to flow fiercely. By this stage her party was in trouble, which may have been a factor, or perhaps persuasion of her worked better with comforting white men by my side, rather than Noel. Were two brown faces a strategic mistake, causing Hanson to feel ‘swamped’, I wondered? We’ll never know. Still, we got close. And it was worth a shot. I still wonder whether Hanson might find it in her heart to support this fair and sensible reform.
The model increasingly won favour among key respected monarchists. Initially, David Flint came on board with the idea of an extra-constitutional Declaration. Later, Damien and I lunched with him at the Australia Club and made the case for the Indigenous body. Flint listened attentively but cautiously. Eventually, however, he descended into public derision, with his own creative variations on the ‘Aboriginal House of Lords’ taunt.
One of our most enthusiastic monarchist supporters turned out to be Kerry Jones, who had succeeded Tony Abbott as executive director of Australians for Constitutional Monarchy and was close to Damien and Julian. She was joined by people like Major General Michael Jeffery, Dame Marie Bashir, and Lloyd Waddy, the first chair of Uphold & Recognise. Monarchists often had a propensity to support the proposals, we found. Many carried immense goodwill towards Indigenous people, and could see how at the very least they deserved a voice in their own affairs—a fact that is perhaps historically unsurprising.
Radical Heart Page 18
