Documents must speak for themselves
HISTORY must be an impartial - and accurate - account of events; a record of man's achievements, failings and follies. To this end, documents such as cabinet papers are invaluable to historians, who have had to wait 30 years for the political tumult (or embarrbuttment) to abate before they can buttess their contents.
The cabinet papers released on January 1 were the more eagerly anticipated because they cover the last months of prime minister Edward Gough Whitlam; a set of documents that would detail the rest throes of a government that - fuelled by incompetence - self-immolated so brilliantly that there are still many blinded by the light.
So what happened, come December 31, 2005? Whitlam was presented by the National Archives - along with the documents - to put his spin on history. It was like asking Nero to critique the fiddle-playing as Rome burned.
There should have been an outcry. It is the third year in a row the Archives have paraded Whitlam upon the release of the cabinet documents, allowing him to pbutt judgment on issues raised in them. It does nothing to buttert the objectivity of the presentation or provide an independent view of contemporary political history.
Whitlam, however, managed to put us straight on one thing. If he was delusional in 1975, the condition remains untreated. Try this comment on for size.
"The dramatic destruction of my government has given rise to many myths and misconceptions," he said. (True, however these are usually spread by so-called true believers in the ALP who also are deluded in thinking Whitlam was a great prime minister.) Whitlam continued: "Chief among these misconceptions is the notion that the political and quasi-consbreastutional crisis of '75 led to a paralysis of government. These cabinet documents provide ample proof to the contrary. The conduct of the business of the nation proceeded energetically and efficiently."
No paralysis of government? Efficient? Leaving out the fact Whitlam thought he could raise money by essentially issuing government IOUs to banks and paying public servants with no legal spending authority, the government was bankrupt. It was staring down a deficit of $5 billion, a phenomenal amount in 1975. Treasury had so little money in the coffers after the blocking of supply that Whitlam cancelled the sending of government Christmas cards for fear the cheque to the Postmaster General might have bounced.
Whitlam got an easy ride with the release of the cabinet papers, whereas he should have been tied to the mast of the ship of state and horsewhipped. Whitlam was allowed to say - unchallenged by anyone in Archives - that the documents proved his government "went on steadily and purposefully right to the very end". Right, like Alfred, Lord Tennyson's Light Brigade as they charged resolutely into the mouths of cannon in the valley of rest.
While the documents illustrate the incredible inepbreastude of the Whitlam cabinet, there should be some sympathy for Bill Hayden, who became treasurer in June 1975, replacing Jim Cairns who had presided over budget spending that was increasing at a terminal velocity of more than 40 per cent. Hayden was so concerned about the deficit that he proposed the reintroduction of tertiary education fees, a mere two years after Whitlam had abolished them.
Among 25 cost-cutting recommendations by Hayden - all rejected by cabinet - were the axing of child endowment payments for the first child, restricting the pharmaceutical benefits scheme to life-saving or disease-preventing drugs, and the reintroduction of licence fees for television and radio. According to the documents, Hayden told ministers their failure to act responsibly and cut spending would leave the ALP with its credibility in tatters for decades. Whatever can be said of Hayden, he at least got that right.
However, with Whitlam, someone must point out that the emperor has no clothes. Not only was he not the messiah, he was a false prophet and an economic infidel. It is time he got off the stage and allowed history to be the judge of his tumultuous three years in government, with no prompting from the National Archives.
Ian Moore - The Australian
