Rod Sawford (Port Adelaide, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Hansard source

At the beginning of February 1988, I was the school principal of one of the most disadvantaged schools in South Australia. The school was located in the federal electorate of Port Adelaide, not far from where I lived as a youngster and where I still live today. To the surprise of many, in 1984 I had left a previous school which I had built up to be one of the best in Australia. But Taperoo meant something. It was where I lived and began my teaching career. When I left it in 1968, I said that I would come back as a principal. I did, and I kept my word. Other than education and sport, federal politics was also a passion. I remember, at the age of 43, my father saying to me, ‘If you don’t change your career by the age of 45, you never will.’

Further promotion in the education department had no appeal for me. The administrators who had led South Australia to international leadership in education were retiring, and they were being replaced by a very unimpressive lot of bureaucrats. At that time I was president of the metropolitan principals’ association in South Australia. It was an active group. I had upset more than a few people with public stances on openness and transparency, early intervention, literacy and numeracy, boys’ education, technical education, teacher education, the dumbing down of mathematics and science, overcrowded curriculum, the lack of competition and physical activity, political correctness and, in particular, the different resourcing of all sectors of education based on tradition and privilege rather than educational rationale.

When I arrived in this place, those areas had been ignored. The House of Representatives education committee changed all that by at least putting them front and centre. But, as the member of Blaxland said, we have not gone too far in 11 years. The repeated threats by sections of the education bureaucracy, when I was a principal, that they would not renew my tenure as a class A principal sooled me on to the possibility of another career. With my wife, Aldona, who is in the chamber tonight, my cousin Ralph and his wife, Oli, the possibility of going into the hotel business was explored. At the time, I was president of the local branch of the ALP and was a candidate in the 1985 state election. Labor had lost the seat of Semaphore in a fit of madness in 1979 to an Independent, and he was entrenched. Although I achieved a swing of 15 per cent, the likelihood of winning the seat in 1989 was still pretty minimal.

The younger generation of leaders in my area was quite impressive. One was Kevin Foley, the current Deputy Premier of South Australia. Another was Joe Cappella, the President of my FEC. I informed them, after standing at the 1989 state election, that I was going to go into a new career, and I prepared them to take over my party and community responsibilities. I never thought there would be an opportunity for me at a federal level. I was a close friend and confidante of Mick Young, the then Leader of the House, Special Minister of State and federal member for Port Adelaide. Among other positions, I was his campaign director. I initiated, developed and administered his scholarship fund, now known as the Mick Young Scholarship Trust. On a personal level, I enjoyed his company professionally, politically and socially.

How unprepared I was when Michael Wright, now a minister in the Rann government, phoned me in early February 1988 to tell me that Mick was going to resign. I was, like most people, shocked. I had suspected that Mick’s health was below par, but that possible knowledge did not prepare me for his phone call inviting my family and me to his house for dinner on the Thursday of that week. To cut a long and personal story short: he said, quite bluntly, ‘It’s you, mate.’ On the morning of 19 February 1988 I won the preselection by 16 votes to nine. Shortly after, I resigned as principal of Taperoo Primary School and began a very public and national campaign as the Labor candidate for Port Adelaide. At the time, the federal Labor government was going pretty rough. In South Australia we had already lost the seat of Adelaide, and predictions were being made that we were going to lose Port Adelaide. I never believed that, but, mind you, the government and Mick himself found ways to unintentionally undermine the campaign.

The national exposure at the time was particularly daunting, but our campaign team, led by Michael Wright and Don Mackay, overcame all the obstacles, and Labor prevailed. In 1990 we returned to a more normal margin and have kept that ever since. I actually predicted the swing against the government. My grandfather, Wattie, had taught me a bit about federal elections when, in 1961, he took £20—a week’s wages—from my dad by saying that Menzies would win by one seat. However, his win was not a prediction; it was based on comparative economic data and has proved to be correct in every Australian federal election since 1964. Since I have been in the federal parliament, I have refined that raw formula to add up what the margin in seats will be by applying a mathematical matrix. Of course, many of my colleagues here in Canberra are disbelieving of, contemptuous of and horrified at my ability to call anything, but I can tell you that I called George Bush by 100,000 votes in 2000, and I called President Chen in Taiwan by 27,000 votes in 2004, and I got them both right.

In 1993, I got a spectacular result and had immense fun. Labor won against the predictions of the polls. Of the Canberra press gallery—that mob who sit up above us—49 out of 51 got it wrong, and the coalition party room contributed greatly to the Sawford family’s financial assets. Alexander Downer took maybe up to six months to pay his $200, but he paid. Hell, it was good! At the beginning of that 1993 campaign I had a call from Paul Keating. I am sure he was surprised at my seemingly over-the-top confidence that we would win and that we would pick up a couple of seats as well. I told him that that afternoon I was going to the Seaton Baptist Church craft workshop. About 500 people used to go there.

Paul gave me a phone number—I think he was in Queensland—and told me to ring him the next day. I have subsequently called this story the Roslyn Pumpa principle. Roslyn Rennie had grown up in the same street as me, but the family moved and I lost contact. I met her, now Roslyn Pumpa, at the craft workshop. She told me in no uncertain terms that she opposed the GST. In fact, the finger was in the chest, the old Port Adelaide way, and she was saying: ‘Wake up in the morning, Rod, wash the teeth, pay the GST. Have breakfast, pay the GST. Get dressed, pay your GST. Go to work, pay your GST.’ That anecdote became, in my opinion, the basis of the communicative genius of Paul Keating when he told that campaign-breaker of a story in a much more dramatic form at the Toyota factory in Melbourne later that week.

I came into this parliament as a member of the Centre Left faction from South Australia. Although a close friend of Mick Young, I was not an original member of that group or any other. However, there is no doubt that, without their support, I would not be standing here today. Senator Michael Beahan was the federal convenor of the group, and I admired his intrinsic decency. I became a fledgling negotiator for the group and had an early opportunity to meet with both the factional leaders and Prime Minister Bob Hawke. However, I did not cover myself in glory. In fact, quite the opposite. After dinner in his dining room—it was that awful Atkins diet—we withdrew to his office. With his feet up on the desk and a big cigar in his mouth, he snarled in his imitable way, ‘Ah, boys, what’s going on?’ For me, at least, there seemed to be a bit of a lengthy and uncomfortable silence, so I fronted up with this doozy of a comment: ‘Bob, when you conceptualised planning for the 1983 federal election, how did you come up with that trinity of recovery, reconciliation and reconstruction?’ He gave me a very severe look, as he can. I thought that he had not heard me, so I stupidly repeated the statement. On either side of me were Senator Barney Cooney and Senator Bruce Childs. Cooney kicked me in the ankle and Childs saved me further embarrassment by changing the subject. After the meeting, Cooney took me aside and said quite emphatically, ‘You bloody dope! That was Hayden, not Hawke.’ It was a most unimpressive beginning indeed!

The 1993 federal election had a big impact on me in more ways than one. My prediction was correct; I won some money and had some fun. A few days after that election I found myself in the intensive care cardiac unit at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, hooked up to more machines than you see at the Adelaide Grand Prix. I had the numbers to be a minister in the Keating government but was told by specialists that I could be an active backbencher or a dead minister. Despite numerous inquiries by the media and others, the staff at the QEH and the patients and families of those in the intensive care unit did not give me away. Mind you, I was a bloody slow learner. I was again in that intensive care cardiac unit a few days after the 1996 election, hooked up to those machines. However, it scared me that time. I gave up smoking and I tried to change my then hopeless lifestyle. I did tell one person, though—Leo McLeay. He never betrayed that confidence and, although an unlikely one, that friendship continues today.

When you have been in this place a long time you soon realise that the average stay is seven years and that any time over that is a bonus. I miss many people who have been and gone: Ross Free, David Beddall, Ted Grace, Kay Denman and Michael Duffy. I could go on for a long time. However, I miss two people in particular who are no longer alive. I refer of course to Senator Peter Cook and the former member for Canning, Jane Gerick. This is not generally a chamber of thinking people. This is not a chamber where you hear many insightful observations. In the press gallery, to the right and above, even fewer are usually found—more is the pity.

Cookie and I looked alike and our identities were often confused. A couple of times overseas I was mistakenly identified as Gareth Evans. One funny incident occurred in Singapore in 1994 when our delegation missed the connecting flight to Australia and went to a late night bar, as you do. Next to us were two Kiwi businessmen who were a bit under the weather. One loudly exclaimed, pointing at me, ‘There’s that bastard Gareth Evans.’ I smiled and waved and raised my glass. The other businessman gave me the one-finger salute. I told Gareth upon my return. He did not see the funny side. Cookie thought it was hilarious.

The late Western Australians Peter Cook and Jane Gerick were different. Cook was a thinker and Gerick was an astute observer. I shared lodgings with Cookie for 10 years. We were both sons of Port Adelaide wharfies and shared a love of Port characters and Port humour—bad jokes. Jane Gerick, at great risk to herself, came walking daily with Leo McLeay, Bob Sercombe, Harry Quick and me. Her astute and acerbic comments were always entertaining. She survived that but not her illness, unfortunately.

Human activity and endeavour ought to reconcile the trinity of ideas, process and task or beliefs, relationships and outcomes. That is why the 1983 Labor election campaign was so successful. With double-digit inflation, interest rates and unemployment, the coalition was doomed. The themed campaign of ‘recovery’, the idea or purpose; ‘reconciliation’, the means or process; and ‘reconstruction’, the task or outcomes, captured the mood of the Australian people and was duly rewarded with the most successful Labor government ever.

Of course, 1996 proved to be the exact opposite. It should not have been. The advice given and taken was flawed and the inevitable tragic loss of seats occurred. I will never forget the ignored warnings and the responses of people who should have known better. There is a reason why the Canberra press gallery got their election predictions so wrong in 1993. As I said earlier, 49 out of 51 went for Hewson and the coalition. Only Laura Tingle and Amanda Buckley got it right, and I am sure that they just wanted to be different. On the Friday before the election, I had lunch with Neal Blewett and Chris Schacht. I was up-beat and on top of the world; they were downcast and gloomy. God, they were poor company! The polls had the coalition 10 points in front. The journalists exhibited their weaknesses: their lack of thinking and analytical skills. They will hate me telling you this, but the media play little or no role in determining winners at the federal level. It all neutralises itself. It is very different at the state level—they are very powerful and they do change things.

I was privileged to be a whip for 10 years in both government and opposition. I am proud that during that time very little was leaked to the media. However, I saw and heard things that horrified me and diminished my belief in a number of people here: lying, opportunism, misrepresentation, jumping to conclusions, egos and rumour-mongering. Some of the worst on both sides were people who used religious belief as a political weapon. These people, though they refuse to admit it, would support a theocracy in Australia. Fortunately, they are outnumbered by people here on both sides who have a greater amount of intrinsic goodness.

It is a great pity that over the last 30 years few Australians have been exposed to an effective education which includes philosophy, ethics, ideas, analysis, pure mathematics and science. Education without those things is a recipe for mediocrity, for victim mentality, for celebrity and image over substance and ideas, for spin and untruths rather than integrity, for diversion and division rather than action, for problems rather than solutions, for description rather than exposition and for synthesis rather than analysis. We have all upgraded our technology; we should upgrade our thinking and observation skills. We have not done so.

In conclusion, I thank my family, friends and staff. Aldona, my wife of 39 years, deserves a medal. She will have to be satisfied with a new kitchen and a holiday, I think. My wonderful children are Luke and Daina. Their partners are Linda and Jason, and my beautiful grandchildren are Alex, Olivia and Joshua. They have been a constant joy to me. Families take a few hits when you are a member of parliament. Mine has been no exception. However, their resilience, dogged positive attitude, patience, loyalty and love are greatly appreciated.

I have lost a few acquaintances over my years in politics—as you do. However, I am grateful that the close friends that I began this journey with—Adam, Ira, Robert, Pam, Pat, Joe, Claude, Jean, Bill, Melva, Margaret, Arthur and Robert—are still with me. Thank you. I have also been blessed with outstanding staff. Pauline Mannix, up there in the gallery, served 39 years with three federal MPs: Fred Birrell, Mick Young and me. Luisa Halacas, Gary Orr, Patrick Hansen and Shaisee Johnston have served me well also.

I have not formally studied philosophy but I have a little background in pure mathematics. They are disciplines I would recommend to any prospective parliamentarian or journalist or political author or failed politician. The paradox of Zeno always fascinated me as a youngster. This, of course, is the classical Greek story of Achilles and the Tortoise. It fooled the ancient Greeks and it still fools people today. Achilles can run 10 times as fast as the tortoise. He gives the shelled creature 100 metres start. After Achilles has run the 100 metres, the tortoise is still 10 metres ahead. Achilles runs the next 10 metres and the tortoise is one metre ahead, and so on ad infinitum. Achilles never catches the tortoise. As with many things, it could never be explained by the ancient Greeks. Instead they called it a paradox, Zeno’s paradox, and waited for later generations of mathematicians to explain the theory of infinite series converging on a limiting value. It is a bit like some people’s explanation of faith.

As I said earlier, this House would be more dynamic, interesting and valuable if it included more thinkers and observers. However, too much in politics is fixated with the cult of image and celebrity, anti-intellectualism, the spread of false beliefs and the avoidance of truths and absolutes. Democracy as we know it allows itself to be threatened far too easily. And it is being challenged. At another level, the current inability of governments to deal with meeting the demand for the supply of basic things—water, power, communication—whilst ignoring any reconciliation with population growth beggars belief.

The politicisation of the federal Public Service, the increasing level of corruption in the state public service and the imbalance between the public and private good diminish this nation. So, too, does the production of two-tiered education and health services. Getting into bed with the rich, the powerful, the famous and the influential whilst abandoning the vulnerable and the dependent will not produce a civilised, relaxed and calm society in which children and the aged are protected and the potential of all individuals is realised. Kevin Rudd has said we need an education revolution. We do. But the revolution needs to cover all aspects of political life, not just education.

Being the federal member of an area in which my family has lived for almost 170 years and representing people I generally love and respect has been an undoubted privilege. On the day of my preselection win I was interviewed by a journalist for the now defunct Adelaide News, Craig Bildstien, in Mick Young’s office. Craig now works for the Advertiser. He asked me what I hoped to achieve. I replied—and I do not know where I got this from—‘I have no high-flying ideas but my aim will be to look after the people of Port Adelaide.’ I trust that I have kept my word.

To the Clerks, in particular Ian Harris and Bernard Wright, and all the parliamentary staff who work in this place—in Hansard, the Parliamentary Library, Transport, Catering and so on—I salute all of you for the courtesy and professional services I have always, without exception, received from all of you.

The forthcoming election will be fascinating, and the closest since 1961. I of course hope to see a Rudd-Gillard government, but, whatever the result, all the very best to the select but imperfect few who occupy the seats in this most important House. The challenges of the future are very difficult. I wish you all the skills—in thinking, observation and technology—in your beings to do the very best by the Australian people. They deserve no less.

To what remains of the tiny band of Independents in the Labor Party, which has incidentally decided every leadership ballot whilst I have been here, I have a simple message: when Labor is again successful at the federal level, the Independents or centre or third force—whatever name you want to give them—will be there again. Hopefully, it will be sooner rather than later. Thank you all for your loyalty and trust in my convenorship for the past 11 years.

Only five people have been here longer than me on this side of the House. One is Kim Beazley. I have not agreed with Kim on a lot of things; however, we did share a valued friendship with Mick Young and a love of Labor. I wish you and Susie all the best for the future. To Warren Snowdon: thank you for allowing me to have the first maiden speech in the new House. Your manoeuvring on that night was wonderful. I appreciated it and I appreciate the friendship since. To Duncan Kerr: I have enjoyed your enigmatic company both here and overseas, and the exchange of tips at particular races at a particular time will always be well remembered. To Harry Jenkins: I hope you become the Speaker, Harry. Those in the Left should do constructive things. I am only joking. To Roger Price, the other Mr Grumpy on our side: remember the tortoise and Achilles story, Roger. Remember the kalamata olives. I am now the tortoise; you are now Achilles. My peaches and my tomatoes will be sweeter, bigger and more colourful than yours! There is one more. Arch Bevis is on a plane on his way to Brisbane, but I have to make a confession and an apology in this House. I nearly killed Arch Bevis on our first trip overseas together. We were very immature, had never been overseas, and I nearly killed him. How did I do that? Well, how could I ever know that a Queenslander could not drink overproof rum?

See yous all! Good luck. It has been nice to know you.

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