Peter Strong is the former chief executive of the Council of Small Business Organisations Australia (COSBOA)
It’s a game — a very important game — of influence. A game that has been around since politics was invented. A game full of individuals.
In my time as an advocate, I was sent to Coventry so often I had a time-share there. And I was duchessed so regularly that I once had a nickname: the “Duke of Talk”.
For clarity, the term “being sent to Coventry” means being deliberately, openly isolated and ignored, the theory being that individuals, and their organisations, have no influence if no one will meet with them. It is designed to force a person to be nice and say nice things.
Being “duchessed” is when a person is treated as very special and worthy, so they feel obliged to a government (or opposition). It’s human for a person to keep chasing attention and compliments by praising rather than criticising. Even if a person doesn’t get the policies needed, they still get the personal attention humans often crave.
The recent jobs and skills summit and its aftermath shows that the current government is very good at duchessing the business community. Business leaders have been included at the top table and given non-stop access to ministers; some have been praised, and many have been flown around in the prime minister’s plane.
Yet at the summit and afterwards, unions seem to have got a lot while the business community got words and attention and… that’s all. Time will tell.
It is a great compliment to be duchessed or deliberately isolated by a government or a political party — it means you have been successful, that you and your organisation count. The worst outcome for an advocate is to be ignored as irrelevant.
It can be difficult for an individual to deal with a lot of positive attention and praise from ministers, and particularly prime ministers. It is also quite alarming to find that no one wants to talk to you due to something you’ve said or done. Yet a good advocate has to be able to deal with the downside of banishment or with the ego-building attention of those in power. In the end an advocate is there for their members and their cause, and has to deal with these challenges.
The first time I was threatened with a trip to Coventry was during the early Rudd years. I was reported in the media as praising a statement made by then opposition leader Tony Abbott. I received a text message from a cabinet minister’s chief of staff, telling me to be in his office at 10am on Monday. My first inclination was to ignore this summons, but then I thought, why not, let’s see what happens.
I turned up and was ushered unceremoniously into an office where the chief of staff and an adviser proceeded to let me know just what would happen to me if I continued to say good things about the opposition. With no chance to get a word in, I waited until the tirade stopped.
They said things such as “if you think ACCI was banned after the last election, then you will get worse than that”, “no minister will ever talk to you”, “you will be a nothing on this hill”. Once their loud, bombastic tirade ended, I asked “have you finished?”, stood up, leaned over the table and let out my own stream of invective. After that we understood each other, and the relationship was good.
The first time I heard the phrase “political duchessing” was when then prime minister Julia Gillard came to the COSBOA HQ to announce in a press conference the appointment of a federal small business commissioner. This was an excellent announcement — one my old organisation had been seeking for a long time.
A member of the opposition was quick to tell me I’d been duchessed. The then chairman of my organisation received phone calls from the president of the Liberal Party and from Tony Abbott’s chief of staff demanding I be shut down. The chairman rang me and yelled at me — he was out of his depth. This particularly hopeless chairman took too much notice of their instructions and was removed by the board — we don’t answer to political parties, or parts of those parties.
It may have appeared that duchessing was happening as I had private meetings with the PM, invites to the lodge and so forth. Yet we were also receiving real policy outcomes. Around this time, we had Brendan O’Connor appointed to cabinet which was a good outcome. We then had an announcement of an instant tax write-off, which was also good. There were other good announcements. I was very complimentary of the government.
I checked constantly with members and directors, people I valued for their honesty and independence, as to whether I was being tricked. The opposition said I was (of course) and the others told me these were good outcomes and we needed much more. The engagement we received was real and our opinion and comments were valued. We were not being tricked.
The next time there was a problem was when I criticised the first budget of Joe Hockey — he had back-dated tax changes to the detriment of small businesses. COSBOA had a very new chairman who all of a sudden turned on me and was trying to have me sacked. Why? Well, a couple of senior treasury officials told me that my chairman had been offered preselection to a safe Liberal Party seat if he shut me down. The COSBOA members got wind of this, called a general meeting and told him and his backers to resign. They did. (Thankfully I only ever had two politicised chairmen, both of whom lasted less than a year.)
After that stoush with some in the Liberal Party, things changed. We had shown that we could not be duchessed or isolated. We were our own organisation, beholden only to the members and to no one else. Our opinion mattered.
The government also knew that we would praise — and praise hard — when good things were announced; if they did something we didn’t like, we would criticise — hard. They delivered a lot for small business over three or four budgets.
All good. The lesson I learnt was that, as an advocate, you have to be aware of what is happening to you, and to your behaviour. You need people around you who will keep your feet on the ground when you are feted or lift you up when you’ve been attacked or threatened.
In the public limelight it’s easy to lose heart when you shouldn’t. It’s also easy to think you’re pretty bloody good when you are not. If an advocate can’t deal with this, they should leave.
Then there is dealing with the media — quite a different story, and one for another time.
