Sir Rob’s-eye view of ‘Life on the Hill’

Press, 1 June 1985, Page 28

Sir Rob’s-eye view of ‘Life on the Hill’

By

OLIVER RIDDELL

in Wellington After 25 years as a member of Parliament, Sir Robert Muldoon gave some of his thoughts on aspects of “Life on the Hill” in a recent address. In the early 1960 s when he first came into Parliament, the place had changed little from the early years of the century. He used to say that Bellamys menus were the ones originally approved by Seddon when he was Prime Minister: Soup; a fish entree; an old-style roast; and such sweets as sago pudding, bread-and-butter pudding, and apple pie and cream. A few weeks ago, Bellamys had begun to introduce its new health-food menus, Sir Robert said. He had tried one by accident, believing it was something else. It had consisted of a thin slice of pallid ham, a small piece of dead white chicken flesh, a tablespoon of very thinly sliced lettuce, all on some kind of wholemeal bun that had tasted like “If that is health food, I would just as soon be sick,” he said. When Sir Robert had reached Parliament in 1961, not a great deal had changed for some decades. Transport had become easier — coming to Wellington in Viscounts via Wellington Airport rather than in DC3s to Paraparaumu, or

earlier still by train from the north and by ferry from the south. But National still had a preponderance of farmers on its side and Labour a preponderance of trade union officials. Today Labour had too many schoolteachers and both sides had too many lawyers. Until the 19605, the members’ bar of Bellamys had been a meeting place in the evenings, particularly for “old timers,” he said. Bread and cold meats had been put there for a sandwich to mop up the liquid intake, and members would lean up against the bar, swapping views on the important issues of the day, such as racing and football. Jack Massey, member for Franklin, had been one of the old timers, the son of a former Prime Minister and brother-in-law of a National Cabinet Minister. After he had left, his old mates put up a small silver plate in one corner of the bar where his elbow had traditionally rested, naming it “Jack Massey’s corner.” Sir Robert said the members’ bar had long since lost its original character, but the press and private secretaries’ bay had remained as before. “This bar is the source of a great deal of the political comment that you get from the news media,” he said. "Inevitably, its degree of accuracy is what I would term ‘alcoholic’ in that it is somewhat blurred round the

edges.” In earlier years, membership of the Parliamentary press gallery had been regarded as one of the pinnacles of success in journalism. But the early 1960 s had seen the end of that era.

Although a number of press gallery journalists of that time had subsequently filled editorial chairs and their equivalent in radio and television, the number who had become memorable for their journalism was small indeed.

Today, the news media ■ were putting people into the Parliamentary press gallery who were really in the early stages of their career and that was a pity, Sir Robert said. Many of them did not understand the workings of Parliament, had little knowledge of its Standing Orders, and had no great understanding indeed of the workings of government. They were alert for today’s sensation, real or imagined, he said, and there was little serious reporting of the law-making process or the day-to-day scrutiny of Government activity by the Parliamentary process. Most of the energy of those journalists was devoted to trying to get advance information on what the Government might or might not do, either by an off-the-record discussion with a member or Minister, a leak from a department, or a conversation with a private secretary in the press and secretaries’ bar.

One feature of Parliamentary representation that was valuable yet not widely known, Sir Robert said, was the extent to which members and the families in each party became close personal friends, regardless of the extent to which they might differ from time to time on matters of policy or tactics.

There was an element of self-preservation in this; one very quickly got the feeling as a politician of being a target for criticism from all points of the compass. In the “hot-house atmosphere” of Parliament Buildings, where people were thrown together for so many hours each week, it was natural that they would come to know and share concerns of families and electorates, he said. Now, the younger agegroup on both sides of the House had changed the

atmosphere to a very considerable extent. “This, combined with the instant wisdom and trivialisation of issues, which has come from television, has created a new political atmosphere,” Sir Robert said. Politics in Government had become less contemplative, less relaxed, less personal, and less pleasant. It was questionable whether this had resulted in better government. It was a much more complex, more immediate, more unforgiving world.today than 25 years ago. Many of the younger Parliamentarians believed they had the answers to the questions and that as a result the world had no option but to accept those answers, Sir Robert said. They were not as good at listening as his generation had been. There was a raucous, radical element that had made its appearance on both sides of the House whose attitudes were not in tune with the basic feelings of the New Zealand people. That helped account for why so many people were coming to his public meetings.