The bellwether vote on the bill was a committee amendment moved by Bob Ellicott, the Liberal MP for Wentworth, which effectively aimed to increase the period of separation as the sole ground of divorce from one year to two. There were other changes proposed, some of which succeeded, including one from Malcolm Fraser which sought to protect a woman who wished only to continue her role as a wife and mother. But the Ellicott amendment symbolised the divide between those who thought that the bill went too far and those who did not. I voted for the Ellicott amendment. So did Paul Keating and Malcolm Fraser. Naturally Whitlam voted against it, as did the two former PMs still in the house, John Gorton and Bill McMahon. It was defeated by just one vote: 60 to 59. Thus came to pass a huge change to our divorce laws, untrammelled even by quite moderate concerns not to change too much too quickly.
A two-year period of separation as the sole ground for divorce, replacing the old multiple-fault provisions, would have constituted a profound modernisation, without the signal the bare 12-month period sent, that marriage mattered somewhat less than used to be the case. More than 30 years later, it is hard to dispute the fact that marriage has been weakened as the bedrock institution of our society. It is at least arguable that the Family Law Act has played a part in this process.
As 1974 wore on, the grass around Bill Snedden, the Opposition leader, had become drier and drier. There was natural loyalty to him. We all saw him as the good bloke, and wanted desperately for him to succeed. Yet, especially amongst the more recent arrivals as MPs, there were mounting doubts that he could effectively exploit growing concern in the community regarding the economy, and fix Whitlam with the necessary degree of responsibility for it. Snedden’s strongest support came from amongst longer-serving members and senators, who had gone through the pro- and anti-Gorton upheaval three years earlier. Many of them had had enough of leadership stoushes, and in the absence of a Messiah were content to stay with Snedden.
To me, and many others, Malcolm Fraser was the logical alternative to Snedden, but he was a deeply divisive figure, largely because of the part he had played in Gorton’s downfall. There were still plenty of Gorton supporters whose organising principle was not the return of Gorton to the leadership, but to keep it away from Fraser. There were some ideological drivers: people like Andrew Peacock and Don Chipp, identified as progressives, labelled Fraser too conservative and backed Snedden. That also kept open Peacock’s own aspirations for the leadership, should Snedden fall over.
Snedden’s support base also included people with very conservative stances on issues such as South Africa and Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe); John McLeay and Don Jessop, both South Australians, were firmly in this group. It was another reminder that one should not over-simplify the use of philosophical labels when it comes to the choice of a leader. In the end the dominant influence is always who is more likely to deliver victory. Ultimately, that led to Snedden’s replacement by Fraser.
Tony Staley, a Victorian MP, was Malcolm Fraser’s principal spear carrier. In his first attempt to topple Snedden, in October 1974, he was joined by Eric Robinson, MP for the Gold Coast seat of McPherson; John Bourchier, MP for Bendigo; and Peter Drummond, a farmer MP from Western Australia. Staley and his group were ridiculed for the tactics they employed. They openly waited on Snedden and told him that he should stand down in the interests of the party. There were strenuous denials of any involvement by Fraser in the actions of Staley’s group. It was easy to accept that Staley was the prime mover; he had been actively touting for Fraser for some time. It seems implausible that Fraser knew nothing at all of what was to happen when Staley’s group went to see Snedden.
Although there were predictable cries of treachery and disloyalty about the behaviour of Staley’s group, it was quite the reverse. They had been very open, having directly confronted Snedden with their concerns and asking him to resign. Naïve it might have been, but it was not treasonable.
At a party meeting late in November 1974, Staley moved a motion to declare the party leadership vacant. A clumsy attempt was made by some of Snedden’s supporters to prevent a secret ballot. One of them even called out, ‘Let’s see the dogs.’ The spill motion was lost, but the figures were not announced. I understand that this was the last time that the practice of not publicly disclosing numbers was employed by the Liberal Party. It was open to all sorts of mischief. Snedden’s supporters put around the story that he had won overwhelmingly. He had not. The vote was probably 36 to 26 in support of Snedden. I deduced from widespread discussion with colleagues in both houses that a majority of the Liberal members in the house had voted for a spill, a very clear sign that Bill Snedden’s days were numbered. I voted for Staley’s spill motion.
From then on the leadership issue was never far below the surface. The grass didn’t get green again until the change to Fraser in March 1975. It had remained tinder-dry over Christmas of 1974, which was dominated by the devastating Cyclone Tracy, which flattened Darwin and claimed 71 lives.
Whitlam’s breathtaking arrogance was on full display. He was on an extended overseas trip when the cyclone hit. He came home, went to Darwin and announced the Government’s response and then resumed his overseas visit, as if nothing had happened.
During this time, some absurd attempts were made by some of Snedden’s supporters to obtain a public undertaking from Fraser that he would not challenge for the leadership. The ridiculous word game further weakened Snedden. Fraser owed it to the party to be available, if it wanted him.
Snedden was also weakened by his dismal parliamentary performances. One of them involved him calling out ‘woof woof’ to Whitlam, to which the Prime Minister replied, ‘The Leader of the Opposition is going ga ga.’ It was one of those parliamentary moments when a short exchange alters the whole dynamic of the chamber, and is perceived to have wider significance.
But it was Andrew Peacock who struck the match that set that dry grass alight. Asked one of those interminable questions about the leadership at Adelaide Airport on 14 March 1975, Peacock flicked back the response that, ‘Rumours and divisive speculation about the leadership are doing great damage to the Party. Mr Snedden should call a meeting and ask for a vote of confidence so that speculation can be ended.’1 Peacock’s intervention surprised many. He was a Snedden man. Fraser’s camp was ecstatic. Another vote for the leadership now had to be held.
Facing the inevitable, Snedden called a party meeting for 21 March.
The motion to declare the leadership of the party vacant was carried by 36 to 28, and Fraser was elected leader by 37 to 27. It was the right decision, as events over coming months were to show. During that time, Fraser was to demonstrate a steadfast pursuit of a given objective unmatched at any other time in his career. He also changed the mood of the party immediately. Although there was plenty of residual affection for Bill Snedden, and continuing lack of warmth towards Fraser from many colleagues, the mainstream of the Liberal Party knew that it had done the right thing by going for Fraser. He sounded strong and looked like a winner.
Although Fraser and I talked regularly, both of us believed the opposition should have sharper policies, and I had made some impact as a debater in the house, I had no expectation of promotion under Fraser. It was a complete surprise when he asked me to be opposition whip. It took me all of two seconds to say yes. I was bowled over to have any job, knowing that if I did it well, other things could follow.
Politics is a very competitive profession. The golden rule, if you want promotion, is always says yes when the leader offers you a job. If you don’t then the leader is entitled to, and will, move on to someone else.
In 1997 as Prime Minister, when doing a reshuffle, I offered Petro Georgiou, the MP for Kooyong, a position as a parliamentary secretary. He knocked it back, implying that it was beneath his dignity, saying ‘I’m too old and ugly to be a parliamentary secretary.’ This was several years before refugee and asylum-seeker issues were under debate, so Petro did not reject the job on policy principle. Whatever his motives, it was a foolish response. I never offered