The House on Capital Hill: Parliament, Politics and Power in the National Capital
Edited by Julian Disney and J.R. Nethercote
ANU/Federation Press, 1996. 245 pp. Paperback
Reviewed by Tony Smith
This book produces both theory and personal stories. Unlike some political texts, it does not hide the resultant conflict but allows the blood to show.
Michelle Grattan notes that parliament is not one but several interlocking institutions. Besides the Senate and House of Representatives with their elected members and personal staffs, there is the Executive Wing, which houses ministers and links people with Public Service departments, and the press gallery and the permanent employees of the parliament. Despite the few seconds of television footage the average day produces, there is a cast of thousands.
This collection of first-hand impressions treats the parliament as a "site" in both the old geographical sense and a newer sense of context and discourse. So, you learn there are 34,000 light fittings, but also that some actors in the political drama prefer political illumination while others think of the building as ideal for mushrooms.
In some respects, the book is an odd mixture. Although it seems reasonably comprehensive by virtue of the range of writers, there is no overall balance; perhaps this is inevitable because the views are all by insiders. There are politicians (including Kerin, Sinclair and Chaney), staff (understandably less famous) and media (Steketee and Grattan).
Although all speak from personal experience, some use anecdote and the first person, while others seem to have examined a range of basic texts to anticipate what readers usually want to know. So, while each makes some worthwhile contribution, side by side they demonstrate their incompleteness.
The best chapters manage to provide personal information but place it into a broader theoretical context which demonstrates relevance and importance. John Kerin gives a very individual account of life as a minister without trying to pontificate. He seems balanced, cursing Labor's NSW right for a "pragmatic, rugby league style winner-take-all modus operandi" and employers who "desire Saudi Arabian tax rates, Japanese interest rates, Antarctic inflation rates, Mali's wage rates and Panamanian political processes".
The contributions of the other politicians promise more than they deliver. Ian Sinclair's overview of changes in the ministry would make an entertaining dinner speech, but not much more. Fred Chaney shows why he was never politically cunning enough to make it in Canberra, and his hint that a negative assessment of his ability by a certain newspaper editor caused his demise should be further explored by some determined investigator. John Langmore's reference to economic rationalism as economic fundamentalism begs deeper analysis.
The book's real contribution is to gather together the faceless ones behind the scenes. These politically appointed minders describe their intermediary roles between the world and the decision makers, between ministers and the bureaucracy, between ministers and pressure groups, between members and constituents and between leaders and media.
The networks between the various minders are barely sketched, but this is an invaluable start to producing a proper map of Canberra's power trails. Like Fred Daly's Political Discovery Tour, it fills an important niche, and is far more valid than self-justificatory autobiographies like Hawke's or hagiographic biographies like Edwards' of Keating.