Good afternoon. You are the successful candidate for the Federal seat of Adam, in the recent election?
That is so.
And you were the only Independent elected at that election?
Quite true.
Our readers are interested in the manner in which you accomplished the remarkable feat of bucking three Party machines and being elected.
The story is a long one. Have you half a day to spare?
Please go ahead.
Well, first I must go back to 1939, when I was nineteen years of age.
Yes.
You may recall that the war allegedly began in that year.
I do.
I was then a university undergraduate, and though I was almost as fluffy-headed as my contemporaries, I realised one cardinal fact.
Which was?
That if I were to live beyond the war, I must be a returned soldier. Nay, more. That if I did so live, and wasn’t a returned soldier, I didn’t stand the chance of a snowflake in hell, in public life.
Then you had already decided upon a life of public service?
I said public life—not public service.
I apologise.
Granted. I therefore joined the Army. Now the average sanitation unit travelled extensively, but did not necessarily fire shots in anger. I admit that the life of a sanitation unit in Egypt, however, admitted of much improvement.
Quite.
Having spent some time abroad, I returned home again. That made me a returned soldier.
You did not fire a shot in anger?
One only. At my Sergeant. It missed. Upon my return, I joined the Labor Party. It was in power, you will recall. I was graduating from Assistant Branch Secretary to Branch Treasurer, when the Split
occurred.
Most interesting.
Feeling that the future lay with various interesting gentlemen, I became a Breakaway.
Quite fascinating. Go on.
After a short time, it was borne in on me that the breakaway movement from the Labor Party was not in fact going to form a government. I therefore followed to the letter a dictum laid down by the leader of the Liberal Party some years ago to the effect that, as a man grows older, he turns to the Right; and became a Liberal.
You mean you ran the gamut of every major party?
I am not overfond of the word gamut, which is defined as a scale of six overlapping hexachords, but I am prepared to agree that I was a member of two major parties and one minor party.
But you have not been elected as a Liberal member?
No indeed. That would have been truly remarkable, since I stood as an Independent.
What caused your disillusionment with the Liberal Party?
You are using terms that I do not fully endorse.
I apologise.
I like to think I graduated from the policy of socialisation for which the Liberal Party stands. I do not wish to be stuffy about the matter, but let us face the issue calmly.
By all means.
The issue, you see, is that this policy of socialisation stands for success for all, wealth for all, attainment for all. You agree?
I think so.
Well then. I firmly contend that this is a complete negation of the basic policy for which Liberalism claims to stand.
Which is?
The integrity of the individual, above all. I shall be frank. I do not stand for success for all. I stand for success for me, followed by a vulgar Army reference to a man named Jack, which is no doubt well known to you.
It is indeed.
You have come to terms with yourself, and ask yourself where Liberalism ends and socialism begins.
You do?
Let us say that I did. That of course, meant becoming an Independent as a logical corollary. I might add that I was by now determined to secure a seat in the Federal House. Particularly determined.
Why particularly?
Because, financially, I was beginning to feel like the man named Jack.
But surely that was not a favourable climate in which to embark on the monetary vicissitudes of an election campaign?
I agree, but fortunately I was in close communication with an importer whose name I shall refrain from mentioning. He is a man susceptible to strong fears about the future of his business. He is also rather wealthy.
I see.
I doubt whether you do. I merely put to him the various possibilities inherent in the election of a Labor or a Liberal Government of the Commonwealth.
With yourself as the shining alternative?
You embarrass me.
Forgive me.
At any rate, let us say that finance was no problem.
And that helped?
I would admit that it did.
And on what platform did you stand in the election?
My platform was copied from that of a greatly experienced Elder Statesman in the House.
How would you describe it?
Firstly, there is a certain mode of delivery of speeches. Now the press talks about father-images, which I consider somewhat vulgar, not to say reminiscent of George Orwell. One must not pontificate. In my speeches I try most sincerely to give my constituents the impression that I am their rich uncle—wise, benign, and kindly.
But just a moment. You have not yet touched on policy.
Exactly. I did not touch on policy. I pointed to the fact that I was a returned soldier, that I believed in the individual, that I detested Communists, that I was by no means convinced that Hitler was right, that Sir Winston is the greatest man of this century, and that north of us, Asian hordes awaited.
Awaited what?
Just awaited.
Please do not be facetious.
I assure you …
Now, having made the points I have mentioned, I had established that I was eminently suitable to run the country for the people. You will admit that these arguments, explicitly or implicitly, have been largely used in all facets of Australian political life since the war.
Perfectly true.
I may say without arrogance, that I do not know a more satisfactory policy than that of promising nothing, pointing to my undoubted faith in the individual, and metaphorically patting my constituents on the head. It endears me to them, endears them to me, enables me to sleep soundly at night, and provides an excellent answer to any misguided zealots who communicate with me, seeking to assert that I have not carried out promises. My answer, in such event, is that I have made none.
But then of course there was rather an extraordinary situation in your electorate, was there not?
You refer no doubt to the remarkable parity of primary votes between all candidates, including myself?
I do.
And that every candidate did me the honour of granting me their second preferences en bloc?
I do.
Yes, that had something to do with my election. Once the Communist candidate was eliminated, I shot to the top of the poll on his second preferences. The D.L.P. candidate was next eliminated, and of course I went further ahead. By the time the Liberal candidate had left us, my lead was unassailable.
Would you care to comment on the fact that you received second preferences from widely disrelated candidates?
My very dear sir!
Sorry. One final question. Assuming for the sake of argument that, for one reason or another, you are called upon to face the electors in, say, eighteen months’ time—would you care to comment on your chances of re-election?
Yes. In eighteen months time I shall be a Veteran Parliamentarian. In addition, I shall certainly have caused at least two, and probably three Government crises, with the attendant publicity. Also, I shall be the Sitting Member. Do not dismiss lightly that appellation.
Would you care to comment on the fact that your surname begins with the letters ‘Ab——‘?
Yes, I see no reason to believe that the alphabetical system for candidates’ names will be abandoned on ballot-papers. That being the case, short of a huge influx of Scandinavian immigrants, it seems that I shall always be at the top of the list. That is why I was delighted to read recently in a certain periodical that Swedes, Danes and Norwegians love their mother countries and do not willingly emigrate.
If I take you correctly sir, you are subtly stressing the importance of the ‘donkey vote’?
That phrase is most offensive. I prefer to term it the ‘Jack Vote’.
It’s worth four per cent., whatever you call it.
Could I quote you as saying, therefore, that you consider your tenure in the House to be fairly permanent?
Very permanent. You recall what certain caustic critics assert about the Victorian Sheffield Shield cricket team—‘It’s hard to get in, and harder to get out’?
Indeed I do.
I believe there is a parallel here—provided I shake enough hands, and cause enough uproar, and vote against the next increase in Members’ salaries, which I intend to do, knowing that I shall vote alone.
Finally, sir, how would you sum up the political scene in this country, as you see it today?
It is a dog’s breakfast.
A dog’s breakfast?
Of which I fully intend to have my share.
Good afternoon, sir, and thank you.
Good afternoon, Jack.
