The Age
Saturday 14 June 1997
By BILL BIRNBAUER
UGLY scuffles between Pauline Hanson protesters and her supporters, who include menacing National Front youths with trademark cropped hair, are the most common images of One Nation Party launches.
Media coverage of this week's Adelaide launch showed police dragging away angry young men, riot-protected horses forming a wall against threatening crowds, distressed girls injured by the crush of hatred outside the convention centre, eggs hurled at windows and enough abuse to make average Australians uncomfortable.
While these scenes in the sedate and plain streets of a west Adelaide suburb provide easy footage and photographs for the media, it is what was happening inside the European Convention Centre that ought to be of most concern to Australia's established political parties.
Because inside, 600 mainly middle-aged men and women - ordinary folk, with ordinary ambitions and fears - were clinging to Ms Hanson's words. They whooped and cheered and whistled and clapped with enough sincerity to dispel any notion that Ms Hanson will fulfil the hope of many and simply fade away.
Ms Hanson clearly has tapped a sympathetic vein that has been missed, and missed badly, by the other parties. Nothing sophisticated happened at the launch, and Ms Hanson's supporters seemed to celebrate that very fact. Here were ordinary people; the last thing they wanted was the glitz, the bands and the big-stage entertainment and the polished speakers that the elites got at their trendy political events.
The message was simple, some would say dangerously nationalistic. It was spelt out in the banner behind which party leader Hanson stood, and it read: ``Pauline, the patriot ... and her fellow patriots.'' The words Australia or Australians were used at least 85 times in her 12-page speech. A typical example: ``We need policies that see us all as Australians, not different kinds of Australians, just as Australians.''
So here were 600 Australians. They believed in true Australian values. They loved Australia. They were sick to the back teeth of the United Nations, sick of competing with Asia and Asians for jobs, sick of Australia's limp attitude to protectionism and immigration, sick of political correctness, sick of attacks on freedom of speech, and particularly nauseated by what they regard as sharp and evasive and corrupt politicians. An audience that felt it had been mucked about for too long.
Outside the door behind police lines were ruffians and socialists wanting to deny them a right to free speech and assembly. The media distorted One Nation's message, turning it into a racist one. Everyone was against them. There were problems finding Ms Hanson a hotel; there were even problems getting a venue for the meeting, which had proceeded only after the Supreme Court directed the centre to honor a contract.
And finally, it was an audience looking for scapegoats. The media, of course. Asians, who lived in closed and secretive communities. Immigrants who had brought their ``ancestral problems'' with them. Immigrants who took jobs. Liberal and Labor governments and their tariff policies. The pursuit of economic rationalism. Peter Costello.
Ms Hanson's uncomplicated solutions appealed to them. Toss out the smug and professional meanderings of Canberra and replace them with real people, ``people who know that being Australian is a state of mind''.
And the lady with the red hair and the nasally voice knew and understood them. She didn't get advice from Canberra bureaucrats - she went to the people. ``I haven't learnt to be that polished politician, actually I don't particularly want to be,'' she told them, and they exploded with clapping and cheering. ``So I haven't learnt yet how to twist things, how to change the subject. I only believe in giving a straight, honest opinion.''
Ms Hanson said that in the past year her office has received more than 60,000 letters and faxes, and 400 to 500 phone calls every day.
So these are the elements: nationalism, a feeling of being isolated and unheard, ready scapegoats and simplistic yet understandable solutions. Sound familiar?
How the Prime Minister, Mr John Howard, intends to deal with the Hanson factor is unclear. By its very nature, his job is more difficult because he has to sell the details of his policies, rather than rely on the sweeping generalities of One Nation. No one would let him get away - as Ms Hanson did this week - with a proposal to abolish sales tax on vehicles without providing specifics on revenue and budgetary implications.
One Nation plans to establish branches throughout Australia and run candidates in all House of Representative and Senate seats. The recent Bulletin/Morgan poll shows that despite a decline in support for One Nation to 9 per cent of the primary vote, it still outpolls the Democrats. A double dissolution early next year over the Wik issue potentially could split the conservative vote, giving One Nation a chance of picking up a Senate seat, probably in Queensland.
Ms Hanson's performance in South Australia was enhanced by her new senior adviser, Mr David Oldfield, who repeatedly fielded the more difficult questions at the press conference, and held the stage with Ms Hanson after her speech.
While Ms Hanson denies softening her views on anything, there is a perception that since Mr Oldfield joined her staff, some of her hard-line comments on immigration, Asians and guns have been buffed. She has started to talk about policies.
Mr Oldfield, 38, is a seasoned political operator. He worked for Mr Tony Abbott, the Employment Minister, Senator Amanda Vanstone's parliamentary secretary, before defecting to One Nation last month. Senator Vanstone confirmed last week that the Government was investigating allegations that Mr Oldfield supplied Ms Hanson information while employed by the Government. Mr Oldfield, a former president of the Liberal Party's Manly branch and an unsuccessful candidate for that seat, has confirmed being in touch with Ms Hanson during that period but has denied the allegations.
UNLIKE her first adviser, the street-smart and aggressive John Pasquarelli, Mr Oldfield is articulate and quick on his feet. He charmed many of the 600 at the convention centre.
``Pauline, will you let the multinational companies control you?'' he asked, reading one of the questions put by the audience, many of whom now shouted, ``No''.
Ms Hanson: ``Nobody controls me.'' And the audience erupted, ``Good girl''. She continued amid the cheering: ``I've got to say that my husbands couldn't ....''
Mr Oldfield: ``How many husbands was that again?''
Ms Hanson: ``... I'm no Elizabeth Taylor, but anyway ...''
Mr Oldfield: ``Fast catching, up I understand ... Zsa Zsa Gabor as well ...''
It might not have been Seinfeld or more fittingly even Bob Hope, or the usual stuff of political party launches, but the audience loved it.
They almost ripped their sides when Mr Oldfield asked her why the Government, the Opposition and the media were scared of her and her message.
``I really don't know because I've got six brothers and sisters and I'm the quiet one in the family,'' she began to a chorus of howls. ``You haven't met my mother yet. All I can say is that apart from the red hair, there's a touch of Irish in me ...''
She then launched into the longest answer of the night. It is worth repeating because, while somewhat unstructured, it says a lot about Ms Hanson and her appeal to battlers and ordinary people.
``I've been a person that's been brought up to ... my mother always said there is no such word as no, and so what you do is, and they taught us the work ethic, they taught us to be considerate to other people, to stand up and be responsible for yourself and for your own actions. And I suppose if you put all this together that makes me and the belief that I have in Australia and the belief that I have in the Australian people ... that ... I cherish this so much. That is the determination within me that keeps me going and especially when I come to meetings like this and I see the support from you people. That's what keeps me going. I ignore them.
``I've been called a racist and been called a bigot and having threats made against my life and my children's lives. Yes, it's been hard. My life has been a goldfish bowl. If anyone thinks I enjoy having police continually with me 24 hours a day, I don't. But it is part of what my life has become. But it's the determination that I believe in Australians that much and I want to look after it.''
After another bout of thunderous applause, she quipped: ``Yes, they should be fearing me because I am going to give them hell.''
A middle-aged woman jumped to her feet, clapping and yelling, ``Stay determined girl, stay determined.''
So what had converted these 600 people into ardent supporters?
Ms Hanson, who says she is more in touch with people and issues than other politicians, believes it is fear.
``Why do you think I am getting the support I am getting?'' she asked, incredulous that a reporter couldn't see what was so obvious to her.
``It is because people out there have discussed these issues behind closed doors because they are in fear of whether they're going to have a job next week; they're in fear of whether their child is ever going to get a job; they're in fear of `Hey am I going to have a roof over my head, am I ever going to own my own home'.''
It's the pervasive fear that feeds disenchantment, insecurity and anger that John Howard has failed so far to quell.