We can remember low points and even low farce, and few of us, probably, will think of many high points, but I think it is possible to claim that the general quality of territorial government, during most of the past 20 years, has been higher than that enjoyed in any state or territory of Australia over the same period. And that's quality at an executive as much as a legislative level.
For most of us that's hard to admit, for a host of reasons. All right-thinking Australians distrust politicians and expect the worst of them and are rarely disappointed. Only a few elected representatives at any level can be said to have attracted personal followings, or to have much inspired, particularly over the past 20 years. In Canberra, a small number of territorial politicians have attracted a grudging admiration, but none have shifted into legend. Even the better and more memorable ones Rosemary Follett, Kate Carnell, Gary Humphries and Jon Stanhope for example, or, at the bovver end, Paul Whalan, David Lamont, Bernard Collaery, Kerry Tucker, Bill Stefaniak and Katy Gallagher have sometimes seemed brighter because some of their colleagues have seemed so pedestrian, with our logs, ratbags and standing jokes well up in their speciality departments to the standards of state parliamentary chambers.
And there's the fact that some observers cannot see past the compact size of Canberra and its government. We are small, so by definition we have to be Mickey Mouse, it seems. Lilliputian. Wasting many words, and a good deal of public money, on nothing much important. There are municipal councils which are bigger (and, by implication, better), and probably territory government should be cut back to a town council model.
And there's the spotlight, which diminishes as much as enhances. A typical state politician in South Australia or NSW is not much heard from. A backbencher from out-of-town will find his or her name in print only if caught with hands in the trough, or otherwise making a pig of himself or herself.
In Canberra, by contrast, six of the seven terms of the assembly have seen minority government, where every vote has counted, making a personality of almost every player. No party, or group of parties, has governed without having more frontbenchers than backbenchers, and even backbenchers have had important functions in committees or as Speakers. The geographic smallness of the territory and the assiduity of members, in or out of the ministry, in attending public functions, as well as their frequent appearances in a concentrated media, puts individual representatives under the microscope more than in any other parliament. For good or ill for their fortunes, because the scrutiny is particularly intense when it is not flattering.
Some of the better things about ACT government do not get so much attention, or credit. Particularly in its first term, some idiotic legislation, such as the short-lived attempt to stop fluoridation, went through. But so too did a host of model legislation and law reform, carried on since under both Labor and Liberal regimes, which have often pioneered and set in place transparency, accountability and good governance systems which have been much copied elsewhere, often in the wake of scandal. Some of the human rights and anti-discrimination legislation has been derided for scraping the bottom of the barrel in a search for fresh self-described victims to save, but it has been accompanied by generally sound and sensible human rights protections that are, in their field, world's best practice.
The ACT gained self-government just as the Hawke government was pioneering, for Australia and, in some areas, the world, financial management reforms. We gained the initial benefit of that, but, particularly under Kate Carnell, extended these reforms into accountancy and budget process in a way that took most of the states a decade to follow. Governing politicians from both sides have found themselves under criticism for their financial strategies, but, generally, those making the criticisms have been able to have the data with which to make comparisons and judgments, something that still cannot be done easily in some other jurisdictions, particularly NSW.
ACT politicians have been as rum and varied as anywhere else, but the assembly as a whole has never been greatly given to panic or knee-jerk responses to sudden crises, real or imagined. Recent examples would be the conspicuous refusals of Stanhope Governments to be stampeded into anti-terror legislation or anti-bikie laws, but even more conservative leaders have been careful and measured in weighing the arguments for uniform and national approaches against the need to do something appropriate for the ACT.
If a proactive and definitely liberal approach to some feel-good matters, including a more pronounced bossiness on anything to do with smoking or pollution and a more relaxed attitude to do with drugs, crime and sex, has typified most of our politicians, they have plenty of evidence to suggest that they follow local opinion in such fields. Our Liberals, as much as our Liberal voters, are concentrated at the liberal end of their spectrum.
Minority government also imposed on the ACT more cooperative, workable and generally civilised committee structures than in any other jurisdiction. In recent years, more and more states, finding the balance of power with small parties and independents, are learning what we already know.
The first chief executive of the ACT administration, Bill Harris, devised in the lead-up to self-government a system of modular functional structures which could be fairly easily joined to others, or detached and placed with others again, without great confusion. This was to suit immediate political needs, for example, one day to link children's services to education, and at another time to justice. There has been tinkering at the edges since, but the basic model has not only survived but represents more efficient use of resources than elsewhere.
There seem to be systemic reasons why it seems to cost Canberra people more to enjoy basic state-level services, such as health, hospitals, education and policing, than it costs in larger jurisdictions. But the Commonwealth Grants Commission, which supplies to all the basis on which such judgments can be made, had hardly put the ACT into any sort of disadvantaged position in helping arrange the split-up of state finances. As with the eastern mainland states, the ACT is, in real or per capita terms, a significant net contributor to the national fiscus. And, with only 75 per cent of the population of Tasmania, its budget is significantly bigger, and better managed.
We have had scandals, and alleged scandals, and farcical situations galore. But we have had no substantial cases of corruption, either at political or bureaucratic level, and even our incompetent management of some issues, or ventures into silly bring-business-to-Canberra notions, pales into insignificance compared with the silly mistakes made elsewhere. Particularly as to cost, or even as to willingness by politicians to admit, sometimes reluctantly, often ruefully, that they got it wrong.
In only one area, planning, has there been little advance, even if there have been many changes. The perennial discontent about this is aggravated by the uneasy feeling, at least among older votes, that the quality of public spaces is declining. That this owes more to Commonwealth abandonment than local mismanagement is only intellectually acknowledged; in our heart of hearts, a Chief Minister, when a Jon Stanhope or a Kate Carnell, is responsible for every pothole and every unmown verge.
For all of the derision, the essentially smooth sailing is hardly an accident. It reflects some credit on the voters. But also more credit on the politicians, on both sides, than they will generally get, because some of the checks and balances were not exciting or glamorous, or made of headlines. And some credit on the bureaucrats too. They work in an intelligent, demanding and knowing community, knowing perfectly well that they are as likely to have to defend their work to an ordinary consumer bumped into in a supermarket or the theatre as before an assembly committee. It's sharpened them, and their service, even if, most of the time, we will admit it only grudgingly.
Jack Waterford is Editor-at-Large.