..
on the highway at speeds so slow that they could be confused with reverse why
break the habit of a lifetime? We were quite young and so the intrepid band
of fisherfolk set off from the west bank of the lake and some considerable time
later reached the east side trout free and sunburnt. We disembarked the boat
and there was the Prime Minister (Sir) Keith Holyoake* leaving a telephone box.
At the time when technology was intermittent and haphazard it was probably because
it was the only working telephone in the township. No security details, no communication
teams or minders obscured the PM and his lakeside cottage. In these more salacious
times we would automatically assume that he was liaising with one of team of
robust, raw-boned New Zealand mistresses redolent of the woolshed and hockey
team perspiration. Or a prize merino.
Being a small country the Prime Minister knew our grandfather so pleasantries
were exchanged, we were introduced and then we got back into the dinghy and
putt-putted slowly back without catching a fish. The only positive thing from
the trip was that I learnt that toe-nail clippers are good for cutting fishing
line.
This positive view of politicians - tall, considerate and possessed of change
for telephone boxes - somehow survived my student days of anti-Vietnam war demonstrations
and general anarchistic leanings. And all anarchists lean severely to the left
and steer simultaneously, but futilely, to all points of the compass. This directional
uncertainty meant that I arrived in the land of Oz and was very soon was immersed
in the Whitlam era and the relatively short-lived artists for Labor movement
that gave me the chance to talk to Margaret Whitlam's chin and Gough's shirtfront.
They were both preternaturally tall and I have no idea what deep and philosophical
bon mots were exchanged as the room was as noisy as a jet engine testing facility.
The metaphorical morning after brought a long-lasting hangover of disillusion
which was not improved by meeting, many years later, John Howard and his cabinet
as part of a large presentation celebrating 100 years of wireless communication
which I somehow ended up organising with Telstra, Optus and News Corp. A great
deal of money was spent, one-off satellite links established, and exotic infrastructure
placed all over this wide brown land. Experts were summoned, medical examinations
were done at a distance and pop music down-loaded from the USA. A triumph of
the times in terms of then contemporary technology. What was immediately obvious
was the complete lack of interest by the assembled politicians exemplified by
John Howard, whose legs didn't touch the floor grinning inanely like either
Tweedle-Dum or Tweedle-Dee and talking to the then Attorney General Philip Ruddock
- one of the few people whom I thought so odious that if they he were hanging
by his fingers on a cliff-edge, I would happily jump on them.
So, obviously, my view of politicians has been on steep downward spiral for
many years and the latest series of governments, here and overseas have done
nothing to improve my opinion.
If you think about what people want from society it is not all that complicated.
In no particular order it could be a good accessible public health system; a
comprehensive, free education system; an accessible legal system that impartially
and fairly dispenses justice and allows freedom from arbitrary arrest and persecution.
People want safe food, good transport and a clean environment. You can add others
to this rather short list like being able to find employment, good drainage
and necessities.
Too easy? Well if we say that it is paid for by people according to their ability
it would seem so.
So if politicians have a purpose it would be to get this in place as expeditiously
as possible, and then - apart from some minor tweaking here and there - leave
well enough alone. What do politicians want? Just power and then remaining in
power. Once upon a time we can imagine government being the result of a sense,
perhaps, of noblesse oblige or a higher moral or ethical calling to better the
lot of one's fellow men. Now it is just another job with its own career trajectory
or even worse the need to inflict outlandish flat earth policies on an unsuspecting
world.
In Australia this may seem like low comedy but in other countries like North
Korea, Saudi Arabia or the Sudan it is tragedy of the most awful kind.
*An addendum from the editor (that's me) re' the Holyoake encounter Dick mentions,
which I'd actually forgotten. My first band, The Chants, or Chants R&B as
we were known by then, was at the Christchurch airport in late 1966 having made
the decision to move its operation to Melbourne. We'd been confined to the one
venue in Christchurch (The Stagedoor) for nearly two years and so it was only
when we announced that we were leaving for good that we got an inkling of just
how popular we were. To our surprise there was quite a crowd of fans, maybe
as many as a couple of hundred mostly semi-hysterical girls at the airport to
send us off.
Anyway, we were raucously on the move through the terminal when we met the prime
minister and his entourage coming the other way. The two groups came to a standstill.
The right honourable Keith Holyoake looked at me and my band and the excited
throng of young fans and said, 'Hullo girls' and marched off.