Tony Abbott (Warringah, Liberal Party, Prime Minister) Share this | Hansard source

I move:

That the House record 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, and place on record its appreciation of his long and highly distinguished service to the nation and tender its profound sympathy to his family in their bereavement.

In every sense, Gough Whitlam was a giant figure in this parliament and in our public life. He was only Prime Minister for three years—three tumultuous years—but those years changed our nation and, in one way or another, set the tone for so much that has followed. Whether you were for him or against him, it was his vision that drove our politics then and which still echoes through our public life four decades on. He was a gifted student. He saw war service in the Royal Australian Air Force. He was a brilliant young barrister before entering parliament in 1952. He became Leader of the Opposition and helped to establish his credentials by courageously reforming aspects of his party organisation.

After 23 years of coalition government, Australians wanted change. It was time, as the famous campaign song proclaimed—probably the only campaign song that anyone can now remember. Whitlam represented more than a new politics; he represented a new way of thinking about government, about our region, about our place in the world and about change itself. Nineteen seventy two was his time, and all subsequent times have been shaped by his time. His government ended conscription, recognised China, introduced Medibank, abolished university fees, decolonised Papua New Guinea, transformed our approach to Indigenous policy and expanded the role of the Commonwealth, particularly in the field of social services. These were highly contentious at the time; some of these measures are still contentious; but, one way or another, our country has never been quite the same. Members of his government displayed the usual human foibles, but, support it or oppose it, there was a largeness of purpose to all his government attempted—even if its reach far exceeded its grasp, as the 1975 election result showed. He may not have been our greatest Prime Minister, but he was certainly one of the greatest personalities that our country has ever produced. And no Prime Minister has been more mythologised.

I dare say that most of us who met him have a Whitlam story. I introduced myself to him one day in 1978 at an event at Sydney university. 'I've heard of you,' he said, 'you're some kind of a Liberal.' 'I'm actually supposed to be DLP,' was my response. 'DLP!' he boomed, 'that's even worse!' At another university event, I asked him about the book Matters for Judgment. 'I'm very pleased,' he said, 'that Sir John Kerr has gone into print, because it has set up a great clamour for the truth, which only I can provide.'

Gough Whitlam was a playful man, even while making what he thought was the essential political or philosophical point. Years later, at an airport lounge, I found myself discussing an issue of ecclesiastical governance with him involving the then Catholic bishop of Wollongong. He sent me a note on the back of a boarding pass, which I might share with the House: 'Some pilgrims in Rome from the 'Gong, found some churches to which to belong. In St Peter's, no less, they at last could confess, Bishop Murray had got it all wrong.'

In person, it was hard to disagree with and impossible to dislike such a man, however much one might question his policies. Of course, throughout his public life he was supported by Margaret—herself a formidable personality and a gracious adornment to our national life. Gough Whitlam is gone but not forgotten. He will never be forgotten. His was a life full of purpose—proof, if proof were needed, that individuals do matter and can make a lasting difference to the country they love.

It is worth recalling an exchange of letters between Gough Whitlam and his distinguished predecessor Sir Robert Menzies. Sir Robert Menzies wrote to the incoming Prime Minister in 1972, and he said:

You have been emphatically called to an office of great power and great responsibility. Nobody knows better than I do what demands will be made upon your mental vigour and physical health. I hope that you will be able to maintain both and send you my personal congratulations.

To which Gough Whitlam graciously replied:

I was profoundly moved by your magnanimous message on my election to this great office. No Australian is more conscious than I how much the lustre, honour and authority of that office owe to the manner in which you held it with such distinction for so long. No Australian understands better than you the private feelings of one now facing the change from the years of leading the Opposition to the burdens and rewards of leading our nation. You would, I think, be surprised to know how much I feel indebted to your example, despite the great differences in our philosophies.

We all have much to learn from the giants of those times.

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