Eric Abetz (Tasmania, Liberal Party, Minister for Employment) Share this | Hansard source

by leave—I move:

That the Senate records its deep regret at the death, on 21 October 2014, of the Honourable Edward Gough Whitlam, AC, QC, former Member for Werriwa and Prime Minister of Australia, places on record its appreciation of his long and highly distinguished service to the nation and tenders its profound sympathy to his family in their bereavement.

Australia mourns the loss of her 21st Prime Minister and the last Prime Minister whose life, in part at least, overlapped every other prime minister's life—a claim that no other Australian Prime Minister will be able to make. Of itself, this is an inconsequential fact but nevertheless a reminder of the relative youth of the Commonwealth of Australia and the longevity of our 21st Prime Minister, whose life of service we acknowledge today.

To be endorsed by one's party for public office is an honour. To then be elected by the people as their representative is a greater honour. To be elected by colleagues to a leadership position and ultimately have your party endorsed for national government with you as Prime Minister designate is the ultimate honour. Very few Australians achieve that honour. The Honourable Edward Gough Whitlam, AO, QC, did. It is therefore fitting to pay regard and honour his status as a democratically elected leader of our nation. It is one of the hallmarks of our democracy, our civilisation and indeed our decency as a body politic that on occasions such as this we can part with partisan differences and acknowledge the good in political opponents.

Edward Gough Whitlam had a long life. To use cricketing terminology, he did not quite make a century but his innings was long, it was illustrious and had moments of sparkling success. His passing is also very much the passing of an era—the last Prime Minister of the generation who as adults experienced the Great Depression and the Second World War. Gough Whitlam was born on 11 July 1916 in Kew, Victoria. The name 'Gough', I am told, is derived from the Welsh word meaning 'red'. I understand that had nothing to do with the reason for his naming but, rather, was in honour of a forebear's commanding officer, Viscount Gough.

His father, Fred Whitlam, as a young lawyer moved the family to Sydney from Melbourne and then later to Canberra on his appointment as Commonwealth Crown Solicitor. Young Gough attended Knox Grammar and later Canberra Grammar School. He sat the Leaving Certificate numerous times, which, on the face of it, might suggest an intractable dullness. The opposite, of course, is the truth. His intellectual giftedness had allowed him to pass the Leaving Certificate at an early age, but he could not proceed until his age caught up with his scholastic abilities. He had one sister, Freda, who became a notable teacher, Principal of Presbyterian Ladies' College and later Moderator of the Uniting Church in Australia. His parents were strong followers of the Christian faith.

Gough Whitlam attended Sydney University from the age of 18 and graduated as a Bachelor of Arts with honours in classics. He then studied law, but it is true to say that the classics remained with him throughout his life. He often quoted one of the ancients, be it a Greek or Roman philosopher, in the parliament, party room or an interview, usually to the bewilderment of his audience. Senator Bernardi would be interested to learn that Mr Whitlam excelled in the sport of rowing whilst at university.

In 1942 at university he met and later married a fellow student, Margaret Dovey, a champion swimmer and daughter of a prominent Sydney lawyer who later became a judge. So began a long and happy marriage of mutual intellectual regard and support. Mrs Whitlam became a prominent figure in Australia's public life in her own right. At their 60th wedding anniversary, Mr Whitlam proclaimed, with untypical understatement, that their marriage had been 'very satisfactory', but he did describe her as 'the love of his life'. His passing sees them reunited.

He joined the Sydney University Regiment Army Reserve and, after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, transferred to the Royal Australian Air Force. He trained as a navigator and flew in Lockheed Venturer bombers based out of northern Australia. For a man not widely known for his modesty, Mr Whitlam was quite reticent about his war service and rarely wore his service medals, although he was quietly, and rightly, proud of this part of his life.

While still in uniform, Mr Whitlam finished his law studies and was admitted to the bar in 1947. With a war service loan he built a house at Cronulla, also buying the block of land next door with his prizes from winning the Australian national quiz championships in both 1948 and 1949. It was at this time he joined the local branch of the ALP. He soon stood for local council. Can I admit, try as I might, my mind could not conjure up the picture of Mr Whitlam campaigning on roads, rubbish and stray dogs. Suffice to say he was twice unsuccessful. He later ran for a seat in the New South Wales Legislative Assembly in 1950, which, as he said later, he was grateful to have lost as well. In 1952 the third tier of government beckoned, and he was endorsed for the Werriwa by-election when the sitting member, Bert Lazzarini, died. He significantly increased the Labor majority in the seat, gaining two-thirds of the vote, and went on to defend the seat successfully until he retired from the House in 1978.

From when he entered the House of Representatives to when he left it, Gough Whitlam was the quintessential parliamentarian. His physical height, combined with a commanding voice, a love of language, a sharp wit and some experience in amateur dramatics, all combined to provide the ingredients of a gifted orator. When you mix that cocktail of qualities, you get a formidable political force and, to the coalition, an opponent not to be underestimated.

Mr Whitlam became Deputy Leader of the Opposition in 1960 to Arthur Calwell. Following the 1966 election defeat for Labor, Calwell resigned as Labor leader and, in February 1967, Whitlam was elected Leader of the parliamentary Labor Party. The very next year, he resigned the leadership over the status of a former Father of the Senate, who used to sit where Senator Madigan now sits, who was at the time still a union official who was banned from certain Labor fora. It was a gutsy move, but he was re-elected by the caucus 38 votes to 32.

Mr Whitlam led successful ALP campaigns in the year of 1968 to win by-elections for the seats of Corio and Capricornia. In the October 1969 election campaign, which some say was actually Whitlam's best in terms of prosecution, there was a substantial swing which reduced the coalition's majority to seven.

In 1971 Whitlam went to mainland China on a much publicised visit at a time when many Western countries were grappling with the issue of recognition of Taiwan and the People's Republic of China. This visit preceded President Nixon's bold recognition of China and elevated Mr Whitlam to a degree of prominence on the world stage.

On 2 December 1972, following the celebrated 'It's Time' campaign, Mr Whitlam led the ALP to victory at the House of Representatives election. For many in my generation, the 'It's Time' campaign was the first time politics exploded into our consciousness. It was an energetic and modern campaign. The euphoria around this campaign has not been seen since, although the Kevin 07 campaign would come close—some might say with similar consequences. But the Kevin 07 campaign, built around a personality and a few catchphrases, had, if I might say, nowhere near the substance and impact of Labor's 1972 campaign.

As an aside, there is perhaps a lesson: the euphoria of a campaign does not of necessity translate into stability of government. Its result was a slender nine-seat majority, but this did not deter Mr Whitlam from progressing full steam ahead with his agenda. On 5 December 1972, Mr Whitlam advised the Governor-General, Sir Paul Hasluck, to appoint him and his deputy, Tasmanian Lance Barnard, as a two-man ministry for a week to give time for the caucus to convene to elect the ministry. They divided all the portfolios in half, and Barnard—who was the member for Bass and very well regarded in our home state of Tasmania, Mr President—later joked that Whitlam inadvertently gave him one more portfolio than new Prime Minister allocated to himself. For his part, Mr Whitlam joked that he had appointed one minister too many.

That two-man ministry undertook a blur of administrative decisions—so much so that the morning newspapers began publishing a front-page column headed 'What the government did today'. Among their immediate actions were the recognition of China in place of Taiwan, boosting expenditure on the arts, a ban on racially segregated teams from South Africa, the ending of conscription and, finally, ending Australia's military involvement in Vietnam.

Whitlam's first government charted new directions, making changes to higher education and beginning the architecture for a new health scheme, then called Medibank. However, the 1972 election was only for the House of Representatives and Mr Whitlam had to deal with the lack of a government majority in the Senate. Some things never change, even if governments do. After a number of refusals of bills by the Senate, in 1974 Mr Whitlam surprised his political opponents with advice to the Governor-General that a snap double dissolution be held, the first since 1951. The result saw Labor returned in the House with a reduced majority, but the composition of the Senate still lined up against the government. The provisions of the Constitution were employed for a joint sitting of both houses to consider the bills previously rejected—the only joint sitting we have ever had and one which was televised live, of which we were all reminded with the black-and-white footage being shown in the last few days.

The second Whitlam government faced significant challenges not least economic ones together with a Senate it did not control. Today is not a day to recount in detail the circumstances which led to the 1975 double dissolution other than to say it was an extraordinary and volatile political time. The Khemlani loans affair being the exemplar.

The dismissal of the Whitlam government and the election it precipitated stressed the fabric of Australia's democracy whatever your opinion of the events. Mr Whitlam's call to 'maintain the rage' reverberated and cast a pall over the body politic and Australian society more generally. But, having said that, I acknowledge that one of his many achievements was to help the nation heal the wound in our body politic opened by the events of 1975. He did this by overcoming the personal resentment he must surely have felt, thereby allowing others to do likewise. I believe that his doing so is the reason his life of service to our country is now being celebrated so sincerely by both sides of politics. The healing process included Mr Fraser and Mr Whitlam joining forces publicly on issues media and then later on matters republic. That these two foes could put their bitter differences aside to work for what they perceived to be in the national interest clearly helped the healing process.

After Labor was heavily defeated at the 1975 poll, Whitlam was re-elected as Labor leader, a position he held until after the election in December 1977 when Labor suffered a defeat of similar proportions. In June 1978, he was appointed a Companion of the Order of Australia, a system of honours that he had advised the Queen to create in 1975 and, for years later, he delighted in sending people telegrams when similarly honoured with the comment, 'Welcome to my order.' That was just one of many examples of his mischievous wit.

On 31 July 1978, Mr Whitlam resigned from the House of Representatives, ending 26 years of parliamentary service. After parliament, he and his wife enjoyed Sydney life, especially theatre and Opera, and reconnecting with their children and grandchildren. He became a fellow at ANU and undertook a stint as a visiting fellow at Harvard. In 1983 he was appointed Australian Ambassador to UNESCO, based in Paris. He served a three-year term, relishing the cultural life of the city and the work he was able to do internationally.

On return to Australia, he continued to be involved in public life, chairing the National Gallery of Australia, serving on the Constitutional Commission and chairing the Australia-China Council. He also happily supported his wife in her own busy, rounded public engagements. Mr Whitlam wrote prolifically and maintained a busy schedule of public speeches and a staggering personal correspondence with Australians from all walks of life and friends from across the world well into his 90s. The range of topics on which he corresponded was almost limitless, from current affairs, the arts, the law, languages to—you name it—any subject. His Sydney office groaned with shelves of books to which our Attorney, I understand, is still aspiring. Quite apart from his political life, Mr Whitlam was a voracious reader of history, biography and philosophy.

I had the privilege of personally meeting Mr and Mrs Whitlam on a number of occasions. They were enormously engaging as a couple. My last meeting with Mr Whitlam was a few years ago when we were both waiting for a flight. I always found him charming, and he loved talking about current affairs and the political issues of the day. In these conversations, he applied any political judgement very lightly because, for him, a good chat seem to mean enjoying the art of company and conversation.

On our first meeting, I was surprised to learn how much Mr Whitlam knew about my own personal history. I confess, it made a pleasant change, as I have usually found Labor operatives determined to tell me my fortune as opposed to my history. His interest, his warmth, his charm, the twinkle in his eye and his wit were all on display, and I was clearly the beneficiary of our brief interactions.

A colleague who will remain nameless tells the tale of inviting Mr Whitlam to launch the book this colleague had written after a very successful high-profile court case. In typical Whitlam style, the assembled throng were told that, by the age of 33, Alexander the Great had conquered the world, Jesus Christ had saved it and Malcolm had written a book!

Gough Whitlam's was a long and full life of service to his country—in war, in parliament, as Prime Minister and foreign minister, as an ambassador and as a leader of cultural institutions. I am reminded of the Greek historian Polybius, who said:

Those who know how to win are much more numerous than those who know how to make proper use of their victories.

Short though his victory was, there is no doubt that Mr Whitlam was among the latter.

At times like these when we all reflect on a significant public life, it is important that we remember how the Whitlam family is feeling. In their statement they said simply that they had lost a loving father. It did not matter to them that he was also a famous Australian. As one of his sons said, they had never known any different. He was their dad. So, to them, to Tony Whitlam QC, former member for Grayndler and former judge, to Nick Whitlam, former chief executive of the State Bank of New South Wales, to Stephen Whitlam, a distinguished former diplomat, and to Catherine Dovey, a writer and thinker, and to the grandchildren and extended family, we offer our most sincere condolences and thank them for lending him to our nation.