Former Speaker Bronwyn Bishop insisted she’d acted within the rules as she repaid the cost of
hiring a helicopter to travel to Geelong for a
Liberal Party fund-raiser.
By John Coldebella
BACK in the mid '70s, Bob Dylan wrote a song called Idiot Wind which contained the line: "Everything's a little upside down, as a matter of fact the wheels have stopped." It didn't mean a great deal to me at the time but, 40 years later, I'm inclined to agree.
Back then, our parliaments were a breeding ground for statesmen. I use the old gender-biased term because in those days there were few if any women representing the populace. Government ministers qualified for the title "Right Honourable", and in many cases this was an accurate summary of their character. There was much respect between political opponents who, like an honest footballer, tended to play the ball and not the man.
BACK in the mid '70s, Bob Dylan wrote a song called Idiot Wind which contained the line: "Everything's a little upside down, as a matter of fact the wheels have stopped." It didn't mean a great deal to me at the time but, 40 years later, I'm inclined to agree.
Back then, our parliaments were a breeding ground for statesmen. I use the old gender-biased term because in those days there were few if any women representing the populace. Government ministers qualified for the title "Right Honourable", and in many cases this was an accurate summary of their character. There was much respect between political opponents who, like an honest footballer, tended to play the ball and not the man.
In an interview with Philip Adams some years ago, former long-term Victorian opposition leader and federal MP Clyde Holding recalled going round to the home of then Victorian premier Rupert (Dick) Hamer to collect his child who had been invited to a birthday party. He recounted knocking on the door which was opened by Mrs Hamer, and seeing his child in the lap of the premier who was sitting in an armchair. I struggle to imagine such a scenario today.
Politicians of that era needed to be good communicators, and even the least educated of them were reasonably articulate. It was a time when our representatives still felt a requirement to explain policy. On all sides of politics were people with a vision. Their position carried a certain amount of respect and we looked to them as role models for civil society.
The footballers, on the other hand were knockabout blokes who, while also playing a kind of representative role, commanded much lower expectations from their communities. Many of them struggled to put more than a few words together and few had a university degree. They could be relied on to get drunk on a regular basis, smoke and engage in "biffo" when they ran onto the field. Children looked up to them and dreamed of following in their footsteps. They were working class heroes.
Today, it's almost as if their roles have been swapped. Many modern footballers are highly educated and articulate, while many of our parliamentarians, including the Rhodes scholars, struggle to put together more than a few coherent words. Footballers are required to lead highly disciplined lives, and their contractual obligations include community service.
Our parliamentarians still require a bar in their workplace. Our footballers are tested for use of illegal drugs. Our parliamentarians are not. Footballers play the ball. MPs play both the man and the woman. It is the AFL that tackles the sensitive issues that need to be dealt with to bring about positive social change. With few exceptions, politicians duck and weave.
Footballers have become the standard bearers of the highest exemplary public and private behaviour. Their every false move is thoroughly and publicly scrutinised. When they stray from the straight and narrow, they acknowledge their mistakes and make public apologies.
"I've done nothing wrong" is the response we've come to expect from our parliamentarians (as they pay back some money plus a little more for good measure.) Politicians have been reduced to the status of mediocre celebrity. Parliament has become another reality show that no-one really cares to watch. The statesmen are running around chasing a leather ball. The larrikins are running the country.
Politicians of that era needed to be good communicators, and even the least educated of them were reasonably articulate. It was a time when our representatives still felt a requirement to explain policy. On all sides of politics were people with a vision. Their position carried a certain amount of respect and we looked to them as role models for civil society.
The footballers, on the other hand were knockabout blokes who, while also playing a kind of representative role, commanded much lower expectations from their communities. Many of them struggled to put more than a few words together and few had a university degree. They could be relied on to get drunk on a regular basis, smoke and engage in "biffo" when they ran onto the field. Children looked up to them and dreamed of following in their footsteps. They were working class heroes.
Today, it's almost as if their roles have been swapped. Many modern footballers are highly educated and articulate, while many of our parliamentarians, including the Rhodes scholars, struggle to put together more than a few coherent words. Footballers are required to lead highly disciplined lives, and their contractual obligations include community service.
Our parliamentarians still require a bar in their workplace. Our footballers are tested for use of illegal drugs. Our parliamentarians are not. Footballers play the ball. MPs play both the man and the woman. It is the AFL that tackles the sensitive issues that need to be dealt with to bring about positive social change. With few exceptions, politicians duck and weave.
Footballers have become the standard bearers of the highest exemplary public and private behaviour. Their every false move is thoroughly and publicly scrutinised. When they stray from the straight and narrow, they acknowledge their mistakes and make public apologies.
"I've done nothing wrong" is the response we've come to expect from our parliamentarians (as they pay back some money plus a little more for good measure.) Politicians have been reduced to the status of mediocre celebrity. Parliament has become another reality show that no-one really cares to watch. The statesmen are running around chasing a leather ball. The larrikins are running the country.