Case study conclusions 185 

Latham had been federal Labor leader for 13 months, the shortest tenure since Billy Hughes was expelled from the party in 1916. Latham was just the second federal Labor leader, after Matthew Charlton in 1928, to leave politics without ever having held ministerial office. He failed in that he did not win an election, and there is no argument from anyone, Latham included, that he and his party in the end could not accommodate each other.

Latham never stopped his maverick behaviour during his tenure as leader: in the end, he rejected the party and the party rejected him. The conclusion must be from this case study that maverickism and leadership could not coexist. But that is not to say that the Latham “experiment” itself was without positives. It is apparent that much of the treatment of Mark Latham and his legacy has been one of political and media revision. As one commentator observed (Raue 2009b), the writing in hindsight seems to paint 2004 as a crazy year when the entire ALP caucus went “collectively insane and selected a lunatic as leader who ran around the country tearing the place apart, before everyone woke up and saw Latham for what he was.”

The problem with this interpretation is that, as this case study illustrates, Latham was an immensely popular figure throughout his parliamentary career who made a demonstrable contribution to his party, and who, during his time as leader, had Labor well ahead of the coalition in the polls for much of that time. According to opinion polling, Latham was one of the most popular political leaders since the Second World War, and even on election day in October, when Howard had clawed back into the polling lead, the media commentators were not certain that Howard would win.

Both major parties and much of the political media has conveniently spent the last five years rubbing out the history of the 2004 election campaign. The reason that Latham and his political record have been so harshly maligned is that Latham himself has been so relentlessly bitter in his denigration of nearly everyone – colleagues, political opponents, journalists – since he left politics. In other words, Latham has set himself up for others to tear him down. There seems no doubt that Latham, in his Diaries and also in his fortnightly Australian Financial Review columns – “Australia’s most rancorous parliamentary pensioner” according to Crabb (2009) – is playing an often cruel game of revenge. His Diaries, Latham admits, are an “uncut commentary” and “very raw” (2005a, p. 2) and this adds to the power that comes from his brutal assessments. Sometimes the humour and observations are crude and sexist, and these are what his critics focus on, but this ignores the political substance of Latham’s time in office.

The political journalist class has largely found it convenient to run with the “crazy Latham” meme as an antidote to their embarrassing fawning over Latham during the 2004 campaign. It probably didn’t hurt that Latham didn’t pull any punches regarding the media in his 2005 diaries, giving them little motivation to treat his arguments and legacy fairly and much motivation to discredit his diaries and the opinions within. Usually such strident criticism of the political establishment by a former federal leader of a major party would be considered a key political document. Instead most who haven’t read the book would consider The Latham Diaries to be a crazy rant with little value. (Raue 2009b)

Insofar as the Liberals are concerned, they have a political advantage in the revision of Latham as a dangerous lunatic, as it allows them to criticise the ALP for the misjudgement in electing him as leader and then following his lead during the election campaign. As for the ALP, they also have strong reasons to paint the Latham experiment as Latham’s own fault, as it deflects blame from the rest of the party members: “Given the casual consensus among much of the Labor caucus, even on the eve of his election to its leadership, that he was a talented maniac, it remains a wonder of modern politics that he was ever made leader” (Age-Editorial 2005).

Was he a mad man who ran amok? It is not the task here to decide on Mark Latham’s mental state. Certainly, many writers have commented on this. His chief of staff for most of his time as leader, Mike Richards, who was sacked on election eve, claims that

Latham did have a clinical disorder, a narcissistic and paranoid personality. The core features, according to Richards, are a distinctive political brilliance and drive that is accompanied by paranoia and destructive tendencies – anger, rage, envy and resentment – which suggest an inner dynamic involving ambition compensating for low self- esteem (Richards 2009).

Latham’s personal style probably did not make it easy to be his colleague, and perhaps another leader, such as Kim Beazley, may have done better at the election. Yet it cannot be ignored that, for a number of months in 2004, Latham did fire the imagination of the media and many Australian voters. But he lost the election after establishing a big opinion poll lead nonetheless: how much of that 2004 loss can be put down to his personality flaws? It is true that a lot of what Richards has to say makes sense; but the question also has to be asked, how many politicians fit these criteria? Narcissism, paranoia and a lot of the other symptoms described by Richards appear to be typical of many successful politicians. And Richards too is not a detached observer and has his own axe to grind against Latham.

Labor lost the 2004 election but it is impossible, and unfair, to attribute that loss solely to Latham’s maverickism, and that is not the intention here. There are many and varying views on why the election was lost. According to Goot and Watson (2007, p. 268) there was “little doubt” that interest rates was the deciding issue. McAllister and Bean (2006, p. 616), on the other hand, dismiss interest rates as having any direct impact, preferring Howard’s relative familiarity as the key. Their view is that voters did not necessarily see Latham as an electoral liability, they had simply not made up their minds about him, as they had with Howard.

Both authors have a valid point. Howard owned the issues more central to voters’ concerns, and he was relatively more popular than his opponent. Those two attributes, issue ownership and popularity (the latter discussed here in terms of conviction and celebrity credentials), are the factors by which nearly all elections are determined, and the contest in 2004 between Howard and Latham was no different. The weakening of partisanship in Australia has meant that voters have come to rely more on the reputation of the leaders to guide their vote choice. The importance of leadership in shaping electoral outcomes gave the Liberals a distinct advantage in John Howard, who had

remained remarkably popular since winning the 1996 election (McAllister 2003, p. 275).

In modern Australian elections leadership is one critical element among many and in the end the conclusion must be that the Australian electorate would not accept a maverick as prime minister. The indications are that they want their leaders to be safe and predictable. Some critics (Lagan 2005a; MaCallum 2005) believe Latham could have been successful if he had more time as opposition leader, or stayed around to contest the next election, but the evidence from Latham’s behaviour does not support that view. There has been much revision of Latham’s 2004 leadership year, much of it not warranted or not supported by the facts, but it appears clear to this study that Latham the maverick was always going to adopt the “crash through or crash” approach. He had his shot, then after that was not interested. His reclusive behaviour and his writings since indicate that he never saw himself as being around for the long haul if he could not be a winner.

Mark Latham’s appeal and difficulties stemmed from the same source: he was a true outsider. Not in the sense of the suburban outsider he romanticises about in his writings, but an outsider within his party, a maverick. As a maverick he was never popular with the ALP establishment, and his political behaviour, despite his broad policies fitting in with a neoliberal economic agenda largely adopted by his successor Kevin Rudd, challenged the way politics was done in the Labor Party. The political success factors developed in Chapter 2 offer an appropriate, concluding reference.

Issue ownership. Petrocik’s (1996) theory of issue ownership holds that there is an advantage to the candidate that presents as the best “fixer” of issues important to the electorate. Determining these issues is an inexact task as voters themselves often do not think about politics in an objective or rational way. Latham hit an electoral chord with his family and community values debate early in his leadership but, it could be argued that, as election day approached, voters turned to more prosaic issues such as interest rates and the economy generally, issues that John Howard clearly owned.

In any assessment, Howard was effective at framing the debate on to these issues. The inference is that Australian voters are risk averse, something which McAllister and Bean (2006, p. 619) recognise as a factor at 2004 election. Mavericks, by their nature,

represent a risk and the electorate when it comes to their homes and their jobs, will not take a chance on a maverick prime minister. As Colebatch (2004) puts it, “Hatred, a potty mouth and Apocalypse Now hardly seem elements we need in an Australian Prime Minister in a turbulent and challenging international and economic environment.”

Conviction. The case was made in Chapter 2 that voters prefer candidates that are true to their convictions. Latham remained a conviction politician to the end; he rarely wavered from his core policies, but he still failed. Why? The answer might be that Latham also presented as a walking paradox, perhaps a result of his personality: he wanted acceptance as a policy wonk but also as a popularist; he hated attacks on himself and his family, yet savaged his opponents personally on any whim; he wanted to be seen as both working class and intellectual; he was convinced he was one of the suburban outsiders, but he was also adept at insider machine politics; he despised the media but also played the media game to his own advantage when it suited him; he hated Kim Beazley, but used him too; he claimed to be a plain talker but could be as Machiavellian as any politician.

All that talent, ambition, vision on the one side of the ledger. All that anger, vindictiveness and loneliness on the other. A man who seemed to balance on a knife edge between political greatness and political disaster. And who was pushed over that edge, in large measure, by the working through of his own ‘fatal flaws’. (Burchell 2005)

In short, and to be frank, much of Latham’s political communication was pure invective, “immature and infantile” according to veteran commentator Max Teichmann (in Colebatch 2004), and it is difficult to conclude otherwise. He may have held consistent policy views, but in his political activity it was impossible to know exactly who Mark Latham was or how he would behave. The Chapter 2 discussion on conviction recognised that voters wanted politicians they could trust to act in a predictable manner, and hold predictable views. There is a reason, argues Brent (2010a), that four out of every five Australian federal elections have seen the government returned: “It’s not a fluke. It’s the value of incumbency. Incumbency is an asset at first, but over the years becomes a liability.”

Therefore, in Australia the electoral choice is usually between a prime minister - who electors feel they know and, for all their faults, feel comfortable with - against an

untried opposition. If voters are ready discard the incumbent the opposition will win if it is electable. Electable opposition leaders, experience indicates, are small target, acceptable, competent and bland. They are not “conviction politicians” and do not put on a big show. They do not need to be inspiring or popular (Brent 2010a).

Latham’s complex character meant that he was easily portrayed as unstable and volatile by his political opponents, which meant voters where never convinced of his leadership

conviction credentials. Or, more charitably, a newspaper editorial summed Latham up this way: “In the end it came down to two things: trust and fear. People were interested in the new young Labor leader, but they weren't anywhere near ready to trust him” (Sun-Herald 2004).

Celebrity. The discussion in Chapter 2 made claims that politicians will seek “star power” (‘t Hart and Tindall 2009, p. 4) and make use of the artefacts, icons and expertise of popular culture (Street 2004, p. 437) to maximise their appeal to the electorate. The evidence indicates that Mark Latham took celebrity politics too far. Whether it was his intention or not, he became too much the media darling; they saw in him far more than he could deliver, and in the end the fall from celebrity grace was very hard.

In placing so much of a personal investment in his Ladder of Opportunity, by making himself the key actor in that play, he focussed the media spotlight directly on to all aspects of his life. If Latham wanted to use his own life experiences as the embodiment of the Ladder’s success, then the public had some right to lay bare other aspects of his life too; or as the media saw it, he “invited all of Australia into his life for a look around” (Age-Editorial 2005). For example, on Fathers’ Day in 2004 he invited the media into his backyard for a photo opportunity with his two sons (Cuming 2006), yet he hated the continued media spotlight on his children and hated the public’s fascination with his private life; he never realised there is a price to pay for wanting to personalise his political messages. As all popular culture celebrities know it is impossible to pick-and-choose media attention. Latham invited the public to see in him how success could be made; he could not expect them not to be interested in his failings too.

7 Conclusions