Bert Kelly, The Bulletin, January 12, 1982, p. 89.

People often wonder why it is that a nice, sensible person, when made a minister in a government, soon starts to rush around all over the place. But those of us who have mixed with ministers, and particularly those who have been through the ministerial mangle, will know that there are many pressures trying to force ministers into a different mould. Those who had the good fortune to see the ABC television program, Yes, Minister will know what I mean.

This program should be made compulsory viewing for all ministers, their secretaries and departmental heads. It may be that they would have to be bound and gagged (particularly gagged) to force them to sit through an episode but we would be better governed if this discipline could be imposed on them.

One of the many reasons why ministers often go soft in the head is that powerful political journalists seem to assess the quality of a new minister by the amount of dust he raises in his department. It may well be that the best thing a minister could do after his appointment would be to pursue a policy of masterly inactivity.

Most government interventions do more harm than good so a minister who refuses to get his knickers in a knot, gets up late in the morning and tackles his task with a certain amount of lassitude may be acting wisely.

But if a new minister behaved like that, the political commentators would write unkind things about him, complaining that he lacked vision or something even worse. It wouldn’t be long before they had him marked down to go in the next reshuffle. The poor minister would not sleep at night worrying lest the prime minister should read these evil comments in the paper over breakfast. And the minister’s wife would caution him and say: “You really must do something that will make an impact, dear, or you will find yourself on the backbench again — and what about your State funeral then?”

So the minister will probably be galvanised into a frantic burst of activity which is probably either wrong or unnecessary but he would feel that he had to behave like this to keep in with the powerful people in the Press.

Now it will probably be a surprise to many people to learn that I have been through the ministerial mangle so I know what it is like. I was once, long ago, the Minister for the Navy. I used to sit on the frontbench in parliament, worrying because no one would ask me any of the questions for which I had the answers hidden away in an imposing portfolio.

Not many people know that that is where the term “ministerial portfolio” originated. But no one seemed to want to know anything about the navy so I used to just sit there, watching admiringly the polished footwork of my ministerial colleagues. And I used to look up fearfully at the Press gallery and see all those powerful scribes sitting there with their sharp pencils poised, glaring balefully at me, knowing that they would soon be marking me down for imminent demotion unless I did something heroic.

With this fear gnawing at my vitals I decided to take decisive action so I called in the Chief of the Naval Staff (CNS) and put my problem to him. “What shall I do to attract the attention of the Press?” I asked. He said that decisive action on officers’ pay would be a good thing or a decision to refurbish the Garden Island dockyard or to improve the accommodation for sailors’ wives would be rather nice. But I had to tell him quite firmly that these activities, though desirable, would make no impact upstairs upon the members of the Press gallery.

“I want something more in the Nelson tradition,” I said firmly. “What about me taking the fleet to sea, full steam ahead through the Sydney Heads one Saturday morning, with me wearing a uniform and a sword?”

Now the CNS, wise old bird, had been through many ministers. Instead of telling me that I was talking through my hat he looked sympathetic and said that my suggestion sounded imaginative and interesting and would certainly attract attention. Then he added quietly, “There is just one thing you should remember, Sir (he always called me “Sir” when he was displeased with me). You must realise that the RAN has many fine traditions and one of these is that after every collision we get a new minister. However, if you insist on taking the fleet to sea, everything will be arranged and you can even borrow my sword. But perhaps it would be wiser to do nothing at all.”

So I took his advice and did nothing at all. And at the next reshuffle I was washed up on the political beach. I often wonder if I was right to take the CNS’s advice. Still, I’ve got my State funeral to look forward to.

Note for Economics.org.au readers:
See also: Bert Kelly, “Case for ministers staying home,” The Bulletin, May 8, 1984, p. 120.