Hawke says Ronald Reagan was so fond of him he asked him to regale the official dinner with his wit. Hawke told a ribald gag about an archbishop catching his thumb on a rose’s thorn. The punchline – ‘And then Alice leaned across and said to His Grace, Is your prick still throbbing?’ – was a great hit.
‘It was summer and the waiters were marines dressed in their beautiful white uniforms,’ Hawke recalls. ‘We each had a marine serving us. The one that was serving Reagan was one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen. He was black, beautifully built, about six foot one or two. All of a sudden he couldn’t control himself and he burst out laughing. And Ronald turns around and says, “It was a good one wasn’t it?”’
I ask Hawke if he’s heard of the conservative political commentator Glenn Beck (he hasn’t). I read aloud Beck’s remarks to The New Yorker, describing Trump as ‘dangerously unhinged’ and criticising American culture for embracing the baddies. He lampoons the problem with a reference to the cult TV show, The Sopranos: ‘I love Tony Soprano. But when a Tony Soprano shows up in your life, you don’t love him so much.’
How do you respond? I ask.
‘America is in bad shape, there’s no doubt about that. The inequality that’s developed is destabilising. You can understand why people responded to a man who was saying “I’m going to make America great again”, because they don’t feel great.’
Do you think it’s a reflection of modern celebrity culture?
‘Yeah, that’s part of it,’ says Hawke.
What is your opinion of the current state of western culture? Is it on a high or are we part of a long, slow car crash?
‘You’ve got to read everything in the light of this enormous threat of ISIS terrorism. The world is frightened and their entitled to be frightened. The real concern I have is that they get their hands on a nuclear device. If they do, who knows what could happen? I don’t think you can say that the state of society, culture, means we’re as well-equipped as we would like to be to deal with this threat.’
You’re fond of saying, ‘change the government and you change the country.’ How do you see America changing?
‘Some of the early signs are promising in that he does seem to be prepared to listen to people who are prepared to talk to him in a constructive manner,’ says Hawke. ‘I’m not as pessimistic as one felt and thought when he got there. I think he will be a much better president than he was a candidate.’
Is it conceivable that Trump may be a more effective president than Obama? The Republicans have the majority of state governorships and they control Congress, so they won’t be as choked as the Democrats. Is it possible, despite your misgivings and the fears of millions of others, that good things could happen?
‘One of the things that won’t be good is these appointments of justices to the Supreme Court and the possibility that you’ll get a reversion of decisions like Roe v. Wade,’ says Hawke. ‘That’s bit of a concern.’
Keating talked about leaders needing a crazy gene to make a difference. Do you agree?
‘Just a minute … fuck.’ (Cigar ash drops into his lap.) ‘No, I don’t think so.’
How do you feel about the worldwide swing to the right? Marine Le Pen in France, Geert Wilders in the Netherlands, Trump in the US. Does it feel a little like the 1930s all over again, the rise of a new form of fascism?
‘I don’t think it’s as bad as that. I mean, you haven’t got a Hitler. Of course, the worrying person is Putin.’
Why does Putin worry you?
‘Because he wants to recreate the Soviet Union … which is not a good thing.’
Is there some justification for Russia’s fears given that NATO has pushed so far against its borders?
‘NATO was the worst thing in that respect,’ says Hawke. ‘It gave him some ground to say, well, look, you’re crowding me and I’m going to react.’
It’s been reported that Xi Jinping was relieved that Hillary was defeated. Is there a possibility that Trump could actually drive a wedge between China and Russia, given Trump’s supposed friendship with Putin?
‘You’ve got to remember that China regarded Russia, justifiably, as a hell of a threat in the Soviet period,’ says Hawke. ‘They don’t love Russia.’
What dangers do you believe Australia faces in the coming years, socially, economically, globally?
‘I think it’s almost inevitable that we’re going to suffer a terrorist attack here in Australia,’ says Hawke. ‘It’s almost beyond belief that we won’t because we are very active in the fight against ISIS. Of course, I hope that I’m wrong, but I doubt that I am. We need to be very, very strong in our security arrangements. The real danger in the world, however, is that these terrorist groups get their hands on a nuclear device. And we’ve got to be realistic: it’s a possibility. You know the American political thriller writer Richard North Patterson?’
The stud who wrote Balance of Power? Who makes you feel as if the world is going to go up in flames at any second?
Getting nukes?
‘Yep, getting nukes. It’s worth a read. This goes back to things we’ve talked about before. We just need world leaders who are going to face up to all these harsh realities. Economically, there’s absolutely no doubt the one thing we’ve got to do is take the world’s nuclear waste. It is just a no-brainer. Every scientist, and any political scientist who knows anything about it, accepts and understands that nuclear-generated power is an essential part of dealing with the threats of global warming. The only difficulty, or major problem about this, is the disposal of nuclear waste.’
Hawke’s big on Australia becoming a storage facility for the world’s nuclear waste. In 2016, South Australia’s Nuclear Fuel Cycle Royal Commission agreed, finding that the risks were manageable and that Australia had an ethical responsibility to other countries to take their radioactive waste.
It’s not a new idea for Hawke. He’s been pushing it for nearly thirty years.
‘When I was prime minister, just towards the very end, I got my chief scientist, Professor Ralph Slatyer, to establish a committee of world experts in mining and geology to look at where were the safest sites in the world. Without any doubt, the safest sites were in Australia. And they identified Western Australia, the Northern Territory and South Australia.’
Hawke’s so passionate about getting the world’s nukes in the Australian dirt he’s even willing to throw the idea at those least likely to embrace it. At the Woodford Folk Festival in 2016, he told his audience, ‘The time has come when we’ve got to think big if we’re going to face the big issues of our time. We’re going to have to be prepared to think about changes that are quite radical.’
The crowd of wannabe radicals applauded like hell. Radical! They liked where Hawke was going. Then he hit them with the hammer. Nuclear power was the future. And Australia, as a good global citizen and net exporter of energy, should take the world’s spent nuclear fuels.
‘Nuclear power would be a win for the environment and an essential part of the attack that must be made on this grievous and dangerous global warming. It would be a win for the global environment and a win for Australia… What is worse for our kids and their kids? Some nuclear accidents in their time or the destruction of the planet [via climate change]?’
The poor partygoers in their fairy dresses and balloon pants and rainbow top hats didn’t know what to think. Nukes: bad. Fixing global warming: good. Hawke had them in a spin.
Some applauded. Some yelled, ‘No thanks!’
But as the New York Times reports in March 2017 under the headline STRUGGLING WITH JAPAN’S NUCLEAR WASTE SIX YEARS AFTER DISASTER, the permanent removal of radioactive waste is a worldwide problem.
It’s been six years since three reactors melted down at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Station, following the devastating earthquake and tsunami of 2011. Yet, as the report explains, Japanese officials are still debating ho
w to deal with an ‘ever-growing pile of radioactive waste’. Some authorities propose diluting contaminated water and dumping it into the ocean, but face vehement opposition from local fishermen. And while 3.5 billion gallons of radioactive soil has been collected for incineration (so far), this will only serve to reduce the harmful waste rather than eradicate it.
If the Japanese do dump the tainted water into the ocean, where does that leave the world’s fisheries? How does it affect the Pacific?
Hawke is adamant that the solution lies with Australia.
‘We’ve got the world’s safest sites. We’ve got an obligation to make those available,’ he says. ‘And, of course, it transforms our revenue situation because the world will be willing to pay large amounts. On one of my recent visits in China, I met the previous Japanese prime minister, [Yasuo] Fukuda, and I told him about it, and he nearly had an orgasm about the thought of being able to clear their waste. I think both parties realise that now, and I think Turnbull is starting to move towards it. I’ve spoken to him before about how I thought it was fundamental. He didn’t disagree. The Labor Party will have to support it.’
How do you sell that to the electorate? The thought of Australia becoming a garbage bin for radioactive waste gives me the shivers.
‘If we have the safest sites in the world, and it could be done without any threat of danger to Australia… “Not in my backyard” – well, the point is we’ve got the world’s biggest bloody backyard. And the safest.’
A viability analysis by the Royal Commission found that a ‘waste disposal facility could generate more than $100 billion income in excess of expenditure’ over the course of 120 years. Would it be that transformative for the economy?
‘It totally changes the revenue that we have,’ says Hawke. ‘The whole debate has been sort of two-legged instead of three-legged. You have cuts in expenditure, you increase taxes, or you get a new source of revenue.’
Of course, none of it – global warming, the use of nuclear power, Australia’s deserts being underground repositories of phenomenally toxic waste – means a damn thing if Trump, in a fit of pique at China or Iran or North Korea, pushes the button and wipes us all out.
We spoke earlier about countries being at certain points economically and culturally as seasons. Do you think America, with Trump as leader, is in its winter?
‘Now,’ says Hawke, ‘I don’t think that’s a useful sort of analogy. It’s in a Trump season at the moment and we have yet to see how that works out.’
Hawke stubs his cigar out. Blows a final plume of smoke. Interview over.
— CHAPTER 14 —
JOHN HOWARD
AUSTRALIA’S SECOND-LONGEST-SERVING PRIME MINISTER, three years longer at the wheel than Hawke, pulls up a chair in front of me, spreads his legs and plants his hands on his thighs.
The Honourable John Howard, OM, AC (who isn’t particularly short, if you were wondering, despite wearing the pejorative Little Johnny tag through every election cycle since 1987), is immaculately dressed in a navy pinstriped suit with a white shirt and dazzling gold cufflinks, a red tie and high-sheen black shoes.
It’s been a circuitous route to get to his office. Two days earlier, my telephone rang while I was driving. I glanced at the screen. Private number. Who picks up a private call? It’s either a telemarketer or some kind of overseas scam.
Hello, my friend! Can I first get your bank account number and date of birth?
I’d thrown the phone back on the passenger seat.
A few minutes later it hit again.
The caller was clearly determined. My curiosity was piqued, so I picked up.
I missed the caller’s name. Something about an appointment on Thursday. Would I mind terribly, uh, would it be too much of an inconvenience, if the interview was changed to the following day? Same time, of course. The caller was disarmingly polite, the voice a little older than that of my usual pals.
An appointment on Thursday morning. Older, well-spoken male.
The penny dropped with a clang.
The voice was suddenly, overwhelmingly, familiar.
John Howard.
The PM who took the guns off the streets and boldly loosed East Timor from the yoke of Indonesia (‘A terrible international humiliation for Indonesia,’ says Howard) and who responded to the Bali bombings with the statesmanlike call to ‘wrap our arms not only around our fellow Australians but our arms around the people of Indonesia, of Bali’.
This was also the man who warned Australia about Asian immigration and plied the narrative that a boatful of Iraqis had tossed their kids into the ocean to provoke a rescue, and asylum, who recoils at the idea of homosexuals sashaying down the aisle, who took us into Iraq on the lap of baby Bush and who was the first PM to be turfed out of office and, simultaneously, his own seat since Stanley Baldwin in 1929.
A rock star to the Libs; the devil, if you’re on the left.
I’d fawned, naturally.
Around the dinner table we might talk tough. We hurl invective at the television, mutter at the newspaper, complain darkly about the stupidity and the greed of politicians. But when you have John Howard calling you on your own phone, it’s not as if you’re going to be rude. It speaks volumes about Howard’s character that he isn’t too self-important to jump on the phone and change an appointment.
‘Mr Howard? Is that you? Yes, yes, you tell me what time.’
As for the relationship between Hawke, the elder by ten-and-a-half years, and Howard, it had always hovered between a begrudging respect and the political need to nail the other against a wall.
When the pair met at the National Press Club in 2012 for an interview with Ray Martin, it was as if Martin and Dean had reunited. Political vaudeville ensued.
Hawke prefixes a question with, ‘I don’t know if John will agree with me… ’
‘Just try me!’ interrupts Howard.
Hawke retorts: ‘I’ve been trying you for a long time…’
Later…
Howard: ‘Undeniably, Menzies was the greatest prime minister. Undeniably.’
Hawke interjects: ‘I deny it.’
The crowd whoops.
Hawke: ‘Why did they throw him out?’
Howard: ‘Why did they throw him out? Well, your mob threw you out!’
Hawke throws his hands up in mock defeat. ‘I know! I know!’
Good friends, says Hawke. But there are caveats. Lines like ‘I essentially agree with Bob’ and ‘John is basically honest’ get thrown around a lot.
When I’d told Hawke I’d be swinging by Howard, he said, ‘John will be interesting. He’s always been very generous. I can’t be quite as generous in return [though] I speak well of him. He was an absolutely dedicated Tory and probably the most resilient politician we’ve ever had. He’s a considerable figure. He was a very good prime minister in many ways. The three things that I can never forgive him for were the Asian thing, Kids Overboard and his unqualified support for the invasion of Iraq.’
Two days after Howard’s call, I’m about to ascend to the fifty-third floor of a Sydney skyscraper for our 11.30 interview when the phone rings. Private. I know to pickup. It’s Howard’s secretary.
‘Oh, Mr Rielly, I’m so sorry but something very important has come up. Would you mind…’
My heart sinks.
‘… changing the appointment to 11.45? Mr Howard is so sorry, but he has to take this call.’ A torrent of apologies – if it’s too difficult, he can change it; he’s terribly sorry etc.
Just as I settle back into the leather cushions of the building’s lobby, peeling open my phone to re-watch the Howard–Hawke interview on Menzies, a call comes through.
‘Actually, he just finished. Is it okay if you come now?’
A wooden doorframe with frosted glass. A small button. Immediately, the door swings open and I’m greeted by a well-pressed man in his fifties who introduces himself as Stuart.
‘I’m Mr Howard’s driver,’ he says. Do I want w
ater? Tea?
The secretary ducks her head in to ask if I’m okay, also offers tea, apologises again – Mr Howard has another call and he’ll be five or so minutes.
I wander through the office and check out the sporting memorabilia room. Howard’s driver plays tour guides. We chit-chat a little.
I say that he must have been front row to more than a few significant individuals in his decade driving Howard around. Photos of Howard with world leaders are displayed on bookshelves that flank the two chairs in the waiting room. There’s Howard with Margaret Thatcher, with George W. Bush (not on lap), with Pakistani military president Pervez Musharraf, with Israel’s Ehud Barak, meeting Pope Benedict XVI, the Queen, Tony Blair, Bill Clinton. And so on.
The driver laughs. ‘Not really. I see a lot of underground carparks.’
What kind of car does a man of Howard’s stature and career warrant?
For the past ten years it’s been a Holden Calais, I’m told, but since the old lion is winding down its production in Australia there’ve been a few good deals happening, and Howard’s been upgraded to the slightly bigger Caprice.
‘Janette likes the extra leg room,’ he says.
Now, if you were to imagine John Howard’s post-prime ministerial office, you’d include a room for cricket memorabilia, accents of dark wood, views of Sydney Harbour and maybe a couple of framed newspaper front pages celebrating Howard’s five election victories (howard triumphant, landslide crushes alp). Prints of the doomed World War II vessel HMAS Sydney (II) (sunk in 1941, 645 sailors killed) and Cook’s HM Bark Endeavour, painted by the ninety-three-year-old Australian naval artist Oswald Brett, hang on facing walls.
Of greater patriotic interest is the cricket room, with its bin full of Prime Minister XI bats, a line-up of various other souvenir bats leaning against a wall, including a 1948 Don Bradman Invincibles bat and a bat decorated with an Aboriginal dot painting. A framed photo of Sir Robert Menzies in 1951 with the West Indian cricket team is, says Howard’s driver, the photo most examined by visitors.