Kevin Rudd (Griffith, Australian Labor Party, Leader of the Opposition) Share this | Hansard source

I second the condolence motion and support the remarks of the Prime Minister. On behalf of the Australian Labor Party, I extend our deepest sympathy to Lady Cotton and Sir Robert’s family. Sir Robert Carrington Cotton, or Bob Cotton, as he was better known, was a distinguished Australian who served his country in almost every way possible. He served with the Royal Australian Air Force during the Second World War. He served his community as a councillor, he served his state as a senator and he served his nation as a minister and as Consul-General to New York and later as Ambassador to the United States.

Sir Robert was a founding member of the Liberal Party of Australia and was a New South Wales state president of that party and federal vice-president. He had a significant influence on his party and was very well regarded by all of his party’s members. He was a loyal and faithful servant of the Liberal Party and, whilst I lead Australia’s other great political party, I respect his deep commitment to the cause which the other side of politics in this country represents.

Sir Robert believed profoundly in Australia’s potential as a nation and in the potential of all Australians. He said in his first speech in the Senate:

I am a tremendous believer in the human resources of Australia. I have felt for some years that in peacetime we have never managed to obtain from the Australian people those qualities of initiative, leadership, character, ingenuity and resources which so characterise them in times of war. Faced with a challenge, the Australian people can rise to nearly any height. Their capacity is superb. In my humble view, the Australian people represent the greatest resource we have, as yet not fully utilised.

Sir Robert was also a great believer in Australia’s place in the world and, as noted before, he served with distinction in the United States. As the Prime Minister has noted, Sir Robert had many friends across the political divide. He stood unsuccessfully against Ben Chifley for the federal seat of Macquarie—and, if you look at the period that we are talking about, 1949, it took some considerable political guts to stand against Ben Chifley. Although he lost the seat, he was a friend of Chifley’s, having known him locally while he was a councillor and president of the neighbouring Oberon Shire.

He entered the Senate in 1965, during the Menzies government, and was later a minister in the Gorton, McMahon and Fraser governments. He held several portfolios, including civil aviation, industry and commerce. He left the ministry in 1977, and in the following year he was appointed as Consul-General to New York, a post in which he served until 1981. He became a close and warm friend of the United States, Australia’s most important ally. Prime Minister Fraser later appointed him as Ambassador to the United States, a position in which he stayed into the early years of the Hawke government.

On his return, Sir Robert held many distinguished positions with Australian companies and also made an important contribution to other areas of national public life, such as the National Gallery. For 70 years he was devoted to the art of photography and had his work exhibited both here and in the United States. He was knighted in 1978 and was awarded an Order of Australia in 1993. He will be fondly remembered by all of his parliamentary colleagues. On behalf of the federal parliamentary Labor Party, I offer my condolences to his family.

I turn now to Jim Killen. Almost unique among the politicians of our age, Jim Killen earned the almost universal affection of his political adversaries. It was not just respect but genuine affection, and that is a hard to thing to achieve in this hard business in which the Prime Minister and I are engaged—the business of politics. It is as if he is a passing reminder now of a kinder, gentler age in Australian politics. We all know that Prime Minister Menzies and Ben Chifley were tough adversaries, but that did not prevent them, from time to time on a cold winter’s evening here in Canberra after a day in question time, from sharing the odd glass of scotch with one another. We should not be too misty eyed about the past—the differences were great then; the differences are great now—and Jim Killen was part and parcel also of the politics of 1975, which included the dismissal, one of the most divisive events in modern Australian politics. But there was always something about Jim Killen that set him apart from the viciousness of it all and, as we honour him in this condolence motion, we should reflect on what it was about him that made him different.

The Liberal Party, of course, will honour him as one of their own, as they should, because his achievements have been considerable. For the Labor Party, Jim Killen was liked not just by Gough, not just by Fred Daly, not just by Clem Jones in my hometown of Brisbane, but by virtually all of us on this side of politics. Jim Killen was first and foremost a parliamentarian. He loved the parliament and he loved it with a passion. Parliament was in every sinew and fibre of his being. He loved the old parliament down at the end of the hill. He once described this new parliament up here as ‘the carbuncle on the hill’. He loved the Westminster tradition because of its continuity, taking us back to Runnymede and taking us forward to whatever challenges we face in the future. He loved its traditions, he loved its forms and he loved its language—and not purely for sentimental reasons; he was a classic Burkean conservative. He would always ask the question: why change things if they are working just fine?

Tom Burns, the then Deputy Premier of Queensland, was telling me about when he became Leader of the Opposition in Queensland after the 1974 state election, when Labor in that parliament was reduced to a cricket team and was despondent. Labor attended the opening of the state parliament that year, and Tom Burns was despondent; this had not been our finest hour. The one person to offer him a word of encouragement and advice was Jim Killen, who walked up to Tom and said, ‘Tom, your job is as leader of Her Majesty’s loyal opposition. You are integral to the functioning of this parliament. Your position is one of respect. Go to it; you’ve got a job to perform today.’ That says something about Jim, when, on occasions, your political opponents happen to be going through a lean season.

So whatever side of politics we are from in this place—whether we are progressives, whether we are conservatives, whether we are Liberal, whether we are Labor—when we think of Jim Killen, we think of someone whose career was life itself. His passion for the parliament did something to raise the esteem of the parliament in the minds and the imagination of the Australian people—something which we do not often do ourselves but which he in his life and career succeeded in doing. Of course, in parliament we also saw his wit and his infectious sense of humour. He was often able to deliver a blow effectively while removing from that blow the personal barb. Ian Bartlett wrote recently that Menzies was impressed with Killen’s parliamentary style and asked Killen how he had got it. Killen, recalling his days as a jackaroo, replied that he had crafted his parliamentary oratory by talking to sheep. Menzies, without missing a beat, replied, ‘Now I understand; the audience has not changed.’

Jim Killen’s and Fred Daly’s friendship is, of course, a matter of renown. They became ambassadors for good humour in the old parliament. At one time Jim and Fred organised for eight aspiring Liberal backbenchers with ministerial ambitions to report to Malcolm Fraser’s office immediately, as Mr Fraser was working on a reshuffle. All competitors arrived at the same time to discuss their place in the reshuffle for an appointment which did not exist. Pandemonium ensued and Killen and Daly laughed and laughed heartily. When Daly retired from politics in 1975, Killen sent him a telegram, which he reproduced in his memoirs. It said:

I learnt with very great regret of your decision to retire. Parliament will certainly be dull without you. Whether I survive politically or not, I will always recall with immense pleasure 20 years of vigorous conflict. If you arrive in heaven before me, plead vigorously on my behalf. I fear I will need your intervention. Regards.

Daly responded:

Many thanks for the telegram. Expect to resume career in heaven as leader of the house and, in political terms, expect to have the numbers to elevate you to archangel status without any left wing. Sorry for delay in replying but no staff means I have to think for myself for the first time. Cheerio, Fred.

Lawrie Daly, Fred’s son, recalled that in 1976, when Jim Killen became Minister for Defence, Daly applied for the position of press secretary, saying his pension was too low and he needed a new job. At the time, Daly had an old english sheepdog. As those people who lived in Canberra at the time might recall, he was named Sir John, after another person of national renown. The dog was quite well known around Canberra at the time and it was decided that the dog should also apply for the job of Jim Killen’s press secretary. Jim Killen agreed to interview both and both were allowed to enter parliament to apply. Killen said that he would be delighted to employ the dog but not Daly, as the dog had stronger literacy skills. A photo was duly taken of Killen, Daly and Sir John signing his employment papers. That photo took pride of place in Jim Killen’s office. Unfortunately, such friendships from both sides of the House are a little fewer and far further between these days and we are probably the worse for it.

In his first speech in this place, Jim Killen said that he would be guided by plain good intentions, and indeed he was, and that is how we on the Labor side experienced him. Jim Killen was a parliamentarian and a man of infectious good humour, but beneath all of that he was a man of deep humanity. I spoke last night to Lady Benise at her Brisbane home and talked with her about how we in the Labor Party best remember him.

Jim Killen was a person of great humanity and humility, a man who loved the company of all people, whatever their background and whatever their circumstances. It was not just your classic: ‘Hail fellow, well met.’ Jim was genuine in engaging people. I saw this in our local community in the southern suburbs of Brisbane. He engaged each person as an individual, and that is the core reason we in the Labor Party could never blast him out of office, because he was fair dinkum.

Jim Killen loved his family and his friends, and his friends and his family loved him. He reflected this in the poetry he loved to quote and the poetry he often read. In his own memoires, he quotes Hilaire Belloc:

From quiet homes and first beginning,

Out to the undiscovered ends

There’s nothing worth the wear of winning

But laughter and the love of friends.

Jim Killen was a great parliamentarian, a man of infectious good humour and above all a man of great humanity. We are all, in this place, the poorer for his passing. On behalf of the federal parliamentary Labor Party, my condolences are extended to Lady Benise and the members of Sir James’s family.

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