Friday 26 October 2012

Meet Campbell Newman's Political Ancestor


QUEENSLAND politics has flipped around in a polar reversal this year, and we’re still trying to get a grip on the churning state of the Newman State.

To explain it all to the Gen X and Gen Y kiddies, some of Queensland’s Baby Boomers are sagely pointing to Bjelke-Petersen as a political ancestor to the Premier.  

But history provides a much more vivid political doppelganger for Campbell Newman.

Perhaps the Premier Newman most resembles is Thomas McIlwraith, a mercurial Scotsman who was in charge from 1879 to 1883.

Both are engineers, both burn to deliver big engineering projects as political leaders, and their corporate-style political outlooks are surprisingly similar.

The question is: will Newman’s path go the same way as that of McIlwraith?

Let’s look at the similarities of the two men.

Early Life As Engineers.
Thomas McIlwraith. Courtesy Wikipedia
In Queensland, they started as outsiders – but of place, not class.  McIlwraith was born in Ayr in Scotland, and moved to Queensland at the age of forty.  Newman was raised in Canberra and Tasmania, and moved to Queensland in his thirties.

Their prosperous and privileged backgrounds ensured they slotted into Queensland’s upper classes when they arrived.  McIlwraith was the son of a shipowner, Newman is the son of two Liberal Federal ministers.

Both became king of the jungle after starting as engineer –businessmen, a breed not often seen on the political savannah.

McIlwraith was more the entrepreneur who formed pastoral and land development companies, and speculated in copper mining, brewing and sugar.  Newman is more the manager, once managing operations at the agribusiness Grainco, and was a consultant in “bulk commodity logistics.”

Both commenced working life as civil engineers.  McIlwraith studied civil engineering at Glasgow University, and Newman got his degree in civil engineering from Royal Military College Duntroon.  

And both carried their engineering enthusiasms into office.  McIlwraith’s great obsession was railways.  He started as a railway engineer, and reached his political Stalingrad when he tried to create a transcontinental railway through the Queensland outback.

For Campbell Newman, it is tunnels and bridges.

Engineering As Political Character: The Burn to Build
Here we delve into the “political character” realm.  Neither Newman nor McIlwraith are timid, and both display a streak of audacity.

Campbell Newman, copyright Brian Cassey
Both are firmly fixated on grandiose engineering schemes to deliver a political outcome, and both stick to these ideas in a strong, jarring manner.

And whilst both are advocates of private enterprise, they rely on the public purse to fund these projects. 

Raymond Evans writes that public debt hit 50 million pounds under McIlwraith.  This debt figure vastly outweighed the total productive value of the colony, and was the highest per capita debt in the British Empire. 

More than half of the borrowings were expended on railways.

At Brisbane City Council under Campbell Newman, debt has reached $2.1 billion whilst revenue sits at $2 billion, leaving Council with a debt / revenue ratio of over 100%.

Political Outlook and Philosophy
Besides their drive to deliver expensive civil engineering projects as political panaceas, there are many striking similarities is in their political philosophies.

One.  Both see the business of government as helping business.  Raymond Evans describes how McIlwraith “facilitated the entry of corporate capitalism into the colony with his expansive laissez faire approach”.

Like his antecedent, Newman certainly wants to rein in government so as to unleash business activity.  He favours removing strictures from the EPA and other government agencies on land development.

Two.  There is a strange lack of empathy for Struggle Street.  It was written that McIlwraith “lacked that burning sense of humanity and passion against injustice”, and instead was committed to a narrowly conceived notion of success built on business enterprise.

It was Housing Minister Flegg, not Newman, who sent out brusque and ill-judged letters to public housing tenants stating they may have to share or look at moving.

But the fact that Newman made no empathetic response to the subsequent furore (did he think it was a good idea or did he even care?) convinced many public housing tenants that they simply did not register on Newman’s political radar.

Both Premiers are judged not for actual statements they made, but the lack of them.

Those For and Those Opposed
Three.  For both men, the political world is divided into people for them, and against them.  Those against them earn their continual enmity.

Read the article in The Monthly by Nick Bryant on how Newman needlessly bristled when confronted by Greens in street campaigning in Ashgrove.  Byrant reveals Newman’s deep seated enmity towards Bligh, but strangely, not towards Beattie.

McIlwraith’s ministers were desperate not to fall on the side of “the outsiders”.  According to the Queensland Worker newspaper, his ministers would “count his approbation for anything they do.  They yearn for his smile … and his nod of approval fills and thrills them with the most exquisite delight”.

Sound familiar?

Four.  There is forcefulness in their political character, almost to the point of recklessness.  The Australian Dictionary of Biography wrote that McIlwraith had a “habit of getting his own way through sheer force of character.”

That could apply to Newman, who doggedly implemented and stuck with his yellow bike scheme, even though it will cost at least four times the $2.2 million over four years originally budgeted for it.

McIlwraith’s Fate, Newman’s Lesson
How it all ended for McIlwraith may be the true lesson that everyone is looking for here. 

He was first Premier from 1879 to 1883, and lost the election to rival Samuel Griffith.  Why?  McIlwraith struck political rocks as he desperately searched for innovative ways to fund his infrastructure and colonial development program.

He wanted to bring in “coolie labourers” and fund his transcontinental railway through excessively generous land grants to private railway companies.

McIlwraith was only defeated because of a split in conservative ruling class ranks.  Traditional pastoralists were horrified by his planned creation of powerful landed railway companies in their own fiefdom.

But he was also opposed by a working class horrified at waves of coloured workers competing for their jobs.

These were big, unusual projects.  McIlwraith was convinced of his own vision, was uncompromising, and was brittle when faced with criticism.

The criticism probably made him an even more entrenched proponent of his project, even when its flaws and economic failings become more obvious.

Strangely, McIlwraith can be characterised as having a crash or crash through approach, like Whitlam.

It is far too early to say if Newman has the same characteristic, or will suffer the same fate as these two predecessors.  But there are interesting similarities between them all.

If in future years we are looking at where it all went wrong for Newman, we may wonder why we did not pay closer attention to the career arc of McIlwraith.

Sources. 
A History of Queensland, Raymond Evans, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne 2007.
“Thomas McIlwraith: A Colonial Entrepreneur”, DB Waterson, in Queensland Political Portraits 1859-1952, edited DJ Murphy and RB Joyce, University of Queensland Press, St Lucia 1978.


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