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Those who would have preferred that the Governor of NSW, David Hurley, had not succumbed to the blandishments of the prime minister to become, most likely early in the term of prime minister Bill Shorten, our next governor-general should count their blessings. My first reaction was sheer relief. Knowing of the cack hand of Scott Morrison in making inappropriate appointments, I had been expecting that the white man for the job would have been Brendan Nelson, fresh from his triumphs at the First World War Jamboree. No one would criticise General Hurley for accepting the position when it was offered to him. Nor for deciding to stay on as Governor of NSW until the end of his term, and after an outcome is known from the state elections in March. With the Commonwealth having its own elections in May, it was thus inevitable that the existing GG, Sir Peter Cosgrove, would be asked to extend until its outcome is clear. Accordingly, General Hurley will be sworn in on June 22, by which time the outcome of the election will almost certainly be obvious, and Scott Morrison, and many of his works and pomps will be out on their ears. Bill Shorten asked Morrison in September, early after Morrison emerged triumphant from the latest Liberal bout of self-harm, that he make no vice-regal appointment, instead asking Cosgrove to carry on for the transition. It was a reasonable request, and it was quite inappropriate, and improper, for Morrison to impose a head of state on the next government when it was inevitable that the term would not even begin until after the next government was installed. It was also in breach of convention, a point emphasised when Morrison, in announcing the appointment last Sunday, went out of his way to stress that he had not consulted Shorten, but had merely notified him, shortly before the announcement, of his decision. As it happened, Morrison had timed his announcement to take publicity away from Shorten’s speech to the ALP conference. (There was a time when Liberal governments would want Labor brawling to get maximum publicity, but, alas, all Labor debates are now choreographed, and outcomes foreordained.) One might cynically say that politicians try to steal publicity from the other side all the time, but it did rather tend to underline how Hurley was being used for mere political purposes a full six months before taking office. He deserved better. The appointment was, of course, well before any caretaker period in government, something that will probably not occur before Anzac Day. But that ought not mean that a government looking to be on the skids should play the pure partisan not only at the end of its term, but well into the next one. At state and territory government level, we have seen governments (Labor and Liberal) whose survival has been thought to be at risk go out of their way to sign major contracts almost on the eve of going into caretaker mode. They have done this to embarrass and compromise oppositions whose rejection of the plan has been clear, as well as, often, as a final cheerio to private sector cronies. In 2014, for example, Labor had made its opposition to the East-West Link clear. It was clear that the very election was a referendum on controversial choices. If it was, the Liberal government, which had signed a contract the month before going to the polls, lost the referendum, and not for want of public resources to put its case. But voters lost too. It cost the Andrews government $340 million upfront to the contractor for the right to walk away from the original deal, and further costs were probably $150 million. And because the Abbott government wanted to punish Victoria for its impertinence in electing a Labor government, it also decided that a $1.5 billion infrastructure grant for the East-West project could not be diverted to other projects of the sort voters actually wanted. Clever politics is one thing, though even that has its costs in the plummeting reputations of politicians among voters. But, allowing that governments must be allowed to sign routine contracts and carry on the ordinary business of government right up to a changeover, can it be right to attempt to bind future governments with last-minute novel proposals and policies? Or should we regard it as improper? Monday made it clear that the government has a large election war chest with which, probably, it plans to announce early tax cuts, as well as an avalanche of pork-barrelling grants for electorates thought to be in trouble. Morrison has already made it clear, as a part of his program of having several announcements a day, that his decision-making is focused on short-term political impact rather than the public good. The next government will not only be involved in picking up these messes, in some cases closing them down. But it will also have to be involved in winding up an array of operations established only for propaganda purposes. It was always obvious, for example, that the Thoday review of the public service was never going to report during the term of a coalition government. The review was established by Malcolm Turnbull, in part on the theory, no longer held by anyone much, that the public service had a lot to learn at the knees of Australian bankers. In fact, there is much to be said for an independent and fundamental review of the public service, but it is very doubtful whether a Labor government would choose to have an inquiry conducted by mates of Malcolm Turnbull, or on terms of reference determined by him. Turnbull, ever incapable of playing the statesman rather than the partisan even about the future of vital Australian institutions, did not consult Labor about the inquiry, its personnel or its terms of reference. It is likewise now perfectly clear that there will be no legislation on the books establishing a Commonwealth Integrity Commission by the time this government goes to the polls. Anyone who bothers to draft a submission (closing date early February) about what shape any such commission should take is wasting their time, just as are the advisers the government has chosen to count, weigh and measure these submissions, before substituting their own view, probably even more minimal than the government’s of what should occur. That the government is only going through the motions is made particularly clear by its appointment to this commission of Margaret Cunneen, the former NSW prosecutor, who became a target of a NSW Independent Commission Against Corruption inquiry. That is akin to early Tony Abbott appointments of cultural warriors and provocateurs to ABC boards, and education inquiries – the main point of doing so seeming to be pleasure at the furious reaction of the supposed elite. It’s all very well to fight to the end, with the last dollar of taxpayer’s money. But the problem of defying the conventions, and canons of good government, is that the other side, which have historically tended to play fairer with the conventions, could follow the example. Tony Abbott, who virtually invented hyper-partisanship, whether against Labor or his party enemies, ended up complaining that Labor in Opposition, and the cross-benchers, would not give his government a fair go. They were, in short, simply copying him, mostly as simple retaliation. Satisfying payback, perhaps, but it has not produced better government. There was once a convention that a new government did not go through the files of old governments looking for dirt that could be used prospectively. If governments had no decent instincts in the matter, public servants would generally resist giving any sort of access to the files, except under the clearest instruction. That convention is now no more. If Labor ministers did anything wrong in the roof insulation affair – a matter on which I am yet to be convinced, whether by the Hanger Royal Commission or the umpteen inquiries established by the Rudd and Gillard governments – it had already paid the political price by the time of the advent of the Abbott government. That Abbott allowed himself to be tempted into calling a royal commission was a perfect example both of his lack of restraint, lack of judgment, his self-indulgence and his disdain for the conventions of government. Likewise, with the trade union royal commission. It was meant to show that Bill Shorten was less than the complete workers friend. It was a $46 million partisan self-indulgence, almost devoid of useful result. Professor Frank Bongiorno, ANU historian, rightly described the report as having “all the impact of last year’s telephone book being dumped in the wheelie-bin”. Kevin Rudd won some political mileage in opposition in 2007 by close attentions to an inquiry into Australian Wheat Corporation deals with Saddam Hussein. John Howard had so limited the terms of reference of this inquiry that it was impossible that it could or would show that various ministers and political players knew all about what was going on or were wilfully ignorant. But Rudd did not follow up with a royal commission when he became prime minister, even if, by then, there were separate matters that could have been followed up, such as the strange reluctance of the AFP to see prosecutions occur. Should Shorten contemplate a royal commission on the impact of banking lobbyists and political donations on Abbott and Turnbull government policies of restoring conflicts of interest in the financial advice industry, and resisting calls for a royal commission into banks? Or into how the Turnbull government came to give a collection of good old boys from the mining industry $500 million to save the Barrier Reef. Or to investigate Commonwealth government dealings with the Adani group. (I wouldn’t expect that, given that it could easily enmesh the Labor government in Queensland.) What about a Royal Commission, or a Commonwealth anti-corruption commission inquiry into National Party boondoggles, pork-barrelling, and cronyism, as well as in management of river water, particularly in NSW? Despite the “reforms” made to politicians’ parliamentary allowances, it seems clear that there are still fertile fields to plough, including in the remarkable way in which it is still essentially an honour system. But why be prospective? Why not look backwards only? It could remind voters of freebies from Gina Rinehart, Liberal Party weddings, and helicopter trips as well as Joe Hockey’s promise that the age of entitlements was over. We could have a general inquiry into eccentric grants of money supposedly intended for Aboriginal advancement. Or into decision-making processes with health evacuations from Nauru, or the appointments of friends and relations of the government to bodies such as the Administrative Appeals Tribunal. Or convenient leakings of national security material, or advance tips about police raids? Or into the mysterious silence of the DPP in considering the AFP brief into Michaelia Cash’s offence? Over in the senate, Penny Wong, Kristina Kenneally, Jacinta Collins and a few cross benchers have been active in suggesting impropriety in an array of matters involving coalition ministers. Given the way the coalition stonewalled about answering questions, would there be political advantage in making these the subject of future royal commissions, or, perhaps references to a corruption commission? The list of payback inquiries is endless, although I should think that there would be people at Bill Shorten’s elbow seeking to restrain the abuse of government inquisitorial powers for purely partisan purposes. (Some partisan purposes are, of course, always involved in calling for inquiries and reviews, but it is also best to have at least the appearance of wanting answers to questions to shape future policy). Those calling for caution will be worried about more than further escalation and fresh levels of retaliation when the other side is back in again. They will wonder instead just how much more abuse the system can take, given that the collapse of public confidence in the system is actually making the day to day conduct of the business of government more difficult. A decade of sheer political bastardry, abuse of the independence of the public service, diversion of public money into dubious projects, downgrading of the merit principle, and the politicisation of national security have taken their toll. Even an activist Shorten may aspire to be the first statesman since Howard if only he plays by the old rules. Jack Waterford is a former editor of The Canberra Times.

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