Bert Kelly, The Bulletin, March 9, 1982, p. 107.

Since I retired from parliament, Mavis has been very relaxed. For about a year she nurtured the fond hope that I would make a second coming, but this delusion gradually faded with my increasing senility. Whenever there is talk of a cabinet reshuffle, or an election looms, her eyes brighten and her ears prick (metaphorically) like a hunter’s when it hears the foxhounds baying; but after a quick glance at my greying locks she goes on with her knitting and lets the political world go by.

However, she is starting to sniff the political wind again. A distant young relative wrote to me asking for my avuncular advice as to whether he should seek pre-selection for my old constituency and how he should behave if he were elected to parliament. Peter is an idealistic young man and well-educated too, so I was rather flattered to feel that he wanted the advice of a somewhat tattered, broken down member of parliament.

Nevertheless, I did not answer his letter immediately. When I left parliament I quickly returned to my old habit of putting all correspondence behind the china ornament to mature. But Mavis must have answered the letter for me because, in no time at all, Peter was knocking at the door.

After Mavis had plied him with her best scones and cream, Peter told me about his yearning to get into parliament. He told me that he was more interested in the welfare of people than of political parties and so on. I can just remember when I, too, felt like that; when in me, too, glowed the same bright light that now lit young Peter’s face. So I said that I was proud to hear a relative of mine adopt such idealistic attitudes and then I gave him a long burst about the virtue of being absolutely honest about everything and how important it was never to divert even a millimetre from the path of economic rectitude and so on.

“And you are particularly fortunate to have an economics degree,” I explained, “so the straight and narrow path of economic virtue will be clearer to you than it was to me. It was only when Eccles took me in hand that I knew right from wrong.”

Mavis could stand no more of this kind of idle chatter. “Don’t take any notice of your Uncle Bert, Peter,” she broke in. “He means well and all that, but he would have got much further in politics if he had learnt to bend with the political breezes and particularly if he had not been haunted by that wretched Mr Eccles. If you do get in, you must promise me that you will never listen to an economist. Politics is the art of the possible, which means that sometimes you must do things you know are wrong. The important thing is for you to cling to your seat so as to do your part in keeping those socialists out of government. If only your uncle had listened to me instead of Eccles, he would have been a minister now instead of having to work for a living. It is all due to Eccles trying to make him go to this place called ‘Economic Rectitude’ or something.”

Peter’s face fell when he heard Mavis’s cynical assessment of the way to get on in politics, but I suppose there is a lot in what she said. Political parties and even politicians have many high ideals, but they are usually careful that these do not get in their way when they are looking for votes. For instance, Liberals are eloquent about their attachment to free enterprise, but they discard this ideal in a flash if they see a few votes passing by. Look at the recent decision on motor cars. A short time ago, just before the car decision, the Prime Minister was proclaiming his belief in free enterprise and belittling the very idea of government intervention. But all this was forgotten with effortless ease when the unions and car-makers leant on him.

Now Malcolm Fraser is not a fool, and he no doubt knows that the government’s decision on cars was wrong, for many reasons which we will not go over again. He knows, too, that it is bitterly resented in the bush — farmers use cars more than city people — yet he poses as a friend to farmers. But he also knows that farmers would find it hard ever to vote Labor again, so he knew he could slam us in the guts with political impunity. You can imagine him saying:

“The farmers will just have to lump it. We know what we are doing is wrong, but we have to be popular in the cities to make sure we keep the socialists out because of the awful things they would do if they got in. Politics is the art of the possible, you know. We just have to govern Australia badly for fear that Labor might govern us worse.

Poor Peter slunk off at this stage and I doubt if we will ever hear any more of his political idealism. Politics is not the place for idealists.