Kevin Andrews (Menzies, Liberal Party, Minister for Social Services) Share this | Hansard source

It is commonly said that this House is the crucible of Australian democracy—a place where public policy is tested and refined before being put into practical effect. It is a place that is also adversarial by definition—a place where contending ideas and political philosophies jostle for dominance and dominion. It is here at these dispatch boxes in the front line of that battle for ideas where, from time to time, appears an issue that transcends the hurly-burly and the cut and thrust of day-to-day political discourse. This is precisely such an occasion. We are here today to mark the passing of Edward Gough Whitlam—a man whose eminence in and service to our nation's political life is beyond dispute. It is not that I agreed with all or, perhaps, even most of what Gough Whitlam's political philosophy was about, but, that disagreement notwithstanding, there is no denying that Gough Whitlam dominated the public policy arena of his day.

When Gough assumed the role of federal Labor leader in 1967, he assumed the helm of a political party that was at its lowest ebb. In opposition since 1949, Labor had been riven by disunion and demoralised by serial failures at the ballot box. Yet, over the space of just four short years, he was able to reorganise the Australian Labor Party, leading a revivified and reinvigorated party to victory in 1972. He adopted a strategy designed to expand Labor's appeal beyond the traditional blue-collar vote, taking deliberate measures to woo middle-class voters to the ranks of the ALP. He recognised the social and demographic changes of the 1960s and 1970s and responded with a strategy that met a new set of public desires and public expectations. Of course, Labor's slogan for that election reflected the political brilliance of its leader. The mantra 'It's time' was simple, direct and literally rolled off the tongue—and, truth be told, we Liberals could not compete. By virtue of that slogan and Whitlam's immense charisma, Labor swept to power in a massive landslide. Labor's 1972 election triumph was a signal achievement in the annals of Australian politics that remains unmatched today.

Gough proved, as many speakers have said this afternoon, no less dynamic upon coming into office. He was nothing if not decisive. Constrained by the inner workings of the federal ALP caucus, he instituted the famed duopoly, where, along with Deputy Leader Lance Barnard, he governed the nation for a fortnight until Labor's frontbench could be chosen. He ended conscription by fiat, withdrew Australian troops from Vietnam and established a federal department of Aboriginal affairs. He noted the incongruity—indeed, the immorality—of a system where young men were deemed old enough to fight but were not old enough to exercise the franchise, amending the Commonwealth Electoral Act to lower the voting age to 18 years. He was also responsible for passing legislation that extended Senate representation to the ACT and the Northern Territory, and he accomplished equally remarkable things in the policy space that is relevant to my current portfolio, social services.

In fact, I think it can be fairly said that if Gough Whitlam was not the father of the Australian welfare state, he at least served the role of midwife. His watch as Prime Minister saw the establishment of Medibank, now known as Medicare. He engineered a massive broadening of tertiary education opportunities by implementing fee-free university studies. He oversaw an increase of the basic pension rate to 25 per cent of average weekly earnings and the enactment of consumer protection legislation. And he introduced sole parent benefits at a time when relationship breakdown threatened to cast thousands of women and children into penury.

Gough Whitlam was not a man to hasten slowly; it was pedal to the metal leadership, whose motto was 'crash or crash through'. At times, the sheer ambition of his agenda perhaps caused him to overreach. At times, his impatient assertiveness could lead him astray. Ultimately, it was this crash or crash through ethos that led to the later outcome. Yet, even at that moment of the dismissal, at the nadir of his political fortunes, Gough Whitlam's sheer brilliance as a communicator shone through, etching itself into our national psyche and our national history. 'Well may we say "God save the Queen", because no-one will save the Governor-General.' It was sheer genius.

Thus one does not have to be in agreement with Gough Whitlam's political world view to recognise the immensity of his role in our politics and his impact on national life nor to mention, as many others have said this afternoon, his generosity or wit. I recall speaking to him at one occasion. I think it was the centenary of the Federation at the Victorian parliament when we all gathered. He asked me about my background, which I explained, to which he replied, 'Well, Comrade, had I come along earlier, you would be on our side.'

I would like to join others in conveying my sincerest condolences to his children, Tony, Nicholas, Stephen and Catherine. Vale Edward Gough Whitlam. You were a colossus who walked amongst us. The world will be a less interesting and less colourful place for your passing. You were a parliamentarian and a Prime Minister, but most of all you were a public servant and a patriot. May you rest in peace.

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