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BOOK REVIEW
| David Clune and Gareth Griffith, Decision and Deliberation: The Parliament of New South Wales 1856–2003, Federation Press, Sydney, 2006. pp. xv + 735. $59.95 cloth.
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| Political historians outside the mother colony have progressively turned a darker shade of green over the past few years, envious at the funding provided by the Committee for the Sesquicentenary of Responsible Government in New South Wales 1856–2006 for a procession of publications on the history of governance and representative government in that state. This book is yet another to roll off this conveyor belt of state-sponsored history but, as the narrative account of the New South Wales Parliament encompassing (virtually) the entire era of responsible government, it may reasonably be described as the culminating project of those commissioned by the sesquicentenary committee. |
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The book's monumental qualities are apparent from the start – chapter 1 is a 140-plus page survey of the colonial era. Happily, it is thereafter organised into smaller time chunks; each chapter separated into two major parts, one dealing with the Legislative Assembly and the other with the Legislative Council. The authors have divided their labours accordingly – David Clune writing on the Assembly and Gareth Griffith on the Council. It is a methodological approach that, as they point out in the introduction, 'underscores the extent to which we are dealing with distinct institutions'. Yet, neither this understanding nor the structural bifurcation preclude examination of bicameral relations; indeed, because the interactions between the two houses are incorporated into the sections on the Council these are consistently at least twice the length of those on the Assembly. This arrangement gives Griffith more scope within which to work and better material since the frequently feisty bicameral relationships and the epic struggles to reform (or abolish) the upper house form the most compelling parts of the history. |
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Telegraphed in its subtitle, an overarching theme of the book is measurement of the parliament's performance against two competing conceptual paradigms. In the preface, the authors explain that they
identify the 'executive' model with the idea of 'decision', with those activities and procedures associated with the establishment and maintenance of effective government ... [and] the 'liberal' model with 'deliberation', a word that encapsulates the idea of Parliament as a forum for debate, inquiry and scrutiny.
There is no prize for guessing that, when it comes to the Assembly, the prevailing trend has been towards executive supremacy – a development, also predictably enough, inextricably connected with the exertion (nay, tyranny) of party discipline. However, Clune demonstrates this trend had not been linear, albeit that the rare interruptions to executive dominance have largely been contingent upon atypical personalities and conditions. Thus, against the backdrop of World War II, the 'rational; patient; determined' William McKell (premier, 1941–47) brought a civilising influence to parliamentary proceedings; he showed
the Legislative Assembly a rarely glimpsed picture of itself, as both an effective instrument of Executive power and a deliberative forum in which the representative voices of the community could be heard.
More recently, there was the 'fabulous' fiftieth Parliament (1991–95) during which the three Independent members, led by the diligent John Hatton, ably exploited the balance of power in the Assembly to catalyse institutional reforms and procedural changes that strengthened parliament's capacities in relation to the executive and provided for more accountable government. |
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The contours of the history of the Council are quite different. One of the most intriguing aspects of its evolution is how a state (and colony) in which parliamentary politics has been played so hard and in which executives of all partisan persuasion have generally subscribed to a 'winner takes all' mentality ended up giving birth to an upper house so mercurial and untameable as that which has existed in New South Wales since the 1980s. The Labor Party's relationship with the Council is a fascinating sub-plot to this story. As with its counterparts in other states, the New South Wales ALP has a history of abiding enmity to the upper house – the party's denial of the Council's democratic legitimacy exemplified by the fact that for many years its MLCs were not admitted to Caucus. But the party's longstanding policy of abolition of the Council was a source of much vexation, causing destructive divisions between Labor governments and the outside organisation and within the parliamentary party. Moreover, despite the ALP's huffing and puffing about the upper house, there was 'never any shortage of aspirants' for membership, not least aging trade union officials. And then there is the paradox that it was a Labor government and premier, Neville Wran, about as hardnosed as any, who presided over the Council's reconstitution in 1978 as a directly elected body with a proportional representation electoral system, which rejuvenated the party's ancient nemesis and ushered in an 'era of "strong" bicameralism'. The authors suggest that it was a
revival of the upper house of a kind that Wran could never have dreamt of when he put through his reform package ... from the 'executive' standpoint, the House that Neville built was about to become a 'House of horrors'.
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It is impossible not to admire the industry that underpins this study. One measure of the density of the research is that the first chapter alone contains 648 footnotes. On the other hand, the effect can be eye-glazing; for example, only the most passionate of parliamentary aficionados is likely to find their pulse quicken at copious details about changes in standing orders, procedural matters and so on. The book's most substantial weakness is that this is an institutional history that too much divorces that institution from the society it represents. The parliament's evolution largely emerges as if it occurred in a social and cultural vacuum. For these reasons, it's unlikely the book will obtain the 'mass audience' that chairman of the Sesquicentenary committee, Rodney Cavalier, insists it 'warrants'. But as a reference work it is a formidable achievement. |
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| Monash University |
PAUL STRANGIO | |
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