Unholy Fury (34 page)

Lest relegating ANZUS to the status of a backdrop be seen as a none too subtle backhander, Wilenski reminded his host that Whitlam had ‘gone out on a limb' to protect the right of the US intelligence facilities to remain in Australia. It was important that Kissinger understand that while Australia would disagree with the United States from time to time, it would be in private. The public comments from ministers in December and January simply showed how the Australian system was different from that of Britain—‘the prime minster does not have the power to choose the Ministers. He does not have the right to select or fire them'.

‘Can he make their life impossible?', Kissinger interjected, showing the ongoing bitterness arising from Australia's response to the December bombings. But he was not going to let his guest so easily off the hook, issuing this blunt reality check:

 

Our relations with your government have started inauspiciously. We take great umbrage, even to keep it private, to be put on the same level as Hanoi. It seemed gratuitous and unreal and therefore, we never answered. The public comments of your Ministers compounded the problem.

 

Nevertheless, in a noteworthy concession, Kissinger did recognise that a Labor Party that had ‘strong views over a long period of time was put in a very sensitive [position] during the first four weeks of its beginning'. What followed then was a short Kissingerian lecture on power. Although he was himself an academic, and although most of his personal friends were intellectuals on the left of the political spectrum, Kissinger lamented that ‘There is a great reluctance of the left wing to face the fact of power'. So where the Australians at this time discerned no foreseeable threats to their security, the Americans continued to see a world of troubles. The national security adviser reminded Wilenski that ‘We do have to face the problem of having
to analyze some minimum power positions that must be maintained, even if doing this is less than exhilarating and morally satisfying'. In terms of security in the Pacific, Australia would be ‘harmed before the US in any ten to fifteen year period'. An Australian retreat from Singapore therefore, was significant not so much for the numbers of troops involved, but ‘because you get a symbolic retreat of Western power'.
³¹
Evidently, the Americans did not share Whitlam's great faith in the principles and practices of liberal internationalism as the path to a new world of peace. Nixon and Kissinger might have envisaged a more multipolar world emerging, in which a new era of ‘convergence' might be possible among long-time enemies with deep ideological and strategic conflicts,
³²
but they retained a view of the world still largely informed by balance of power politics.

Coming closer to the new alliance evolving with Australia, Kissinger agreed that it was not necessary for the two countries to ‘say we have identical policies'. It ‘is better' he added, for there to be ‘some understanding among governments which provides for flexibility'. But he returned again to the fracas of the new year period. ‘I must tell you', he intoned, ‘and you probably already know, that there was very bad feeling here toward your Prime Minister, particularly because the President has a warm spot towards Australia, and therefore this hurt him'.
³³
It was a significant admission: Kissinger was in essence conveying that Whitlam had upset Nixon's established understanding of Australia and its leaders, views which had been primarily shaped on his visits to the country in 1953 and 1967.

Towards the end of the meeting, Wilenski made his move on the question of the Whitlam visit. Given the tensions of recent months, he did so with an air of almost comical indifference: reminding Kissinger that ‘Some day the Prime Minister would like to meet with the President'. Kissinger's response was positive: ‘In principle, yes', but the discussion then turned to the question of what type of visit it would be. ‘We can have an informal visit', said Kissinger. Wilenski concurred, suggesting Whitlam ‘could be passing through Washington, an hour visit, no formalities or parties'. Kissinger mused that ‘we could give him a party', but with that the two
consiglieri
went their separate ways.

But there was certainly to be no party in Washington for Gough Whitlam, and it was to take a near eternity for the actual invitation to arrive. Although Kissinger had agreed in principle to Whitlam seeing the president, it took him until the end of May to reply to Wilenski's correspondence, which aimed at nailing down a date for the meeting with Nixon.
³⁴
In the absence of a confirmation Whitlam clearly believed it was time to send what one journalist called ‘peace signals' in an attempt to soothe the strained relations.
³⁵
During a major speech in parliament on the government's foreign policy, Whitlam went out of his way to praise Nixon's achievements, especially his ‘pivotal role in ushering in a new and saner phase in our relations with China, in clearing the way for more intensive commercial, scientific, technical and cultural exchanges between the United States of America and the Soviet Union, and thereby achieving a successful first round of the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks and ending foreign intervention in Vietnam. These were great achievements'.
³⁶
But to the extent that such a speech even made it across Nixon's desk at this time, they were sweeteners that could not cut through the fog of Watergate. And so the delay continued.

Amidst what was fast becoming a growing controversy, all sorts of stories started to do the diplomatic rounds in Canberra. BA Santamaria, staunch Catholic and hardline anti-communist, expressed acute concern over the new government's handling of the alliance. He told his contacts at the British High Commission that Whitlam, during a London dinner hosted by Victorian Agent General Sir Murray Porter had ‘abused the American president … on 3 occasions in full voice across the dinner table'. The American diplomats present had apparently chosen not to report the remarks back to Washington.
³⁷
In Canberra, however, the head of the press gallery, Alan Reid, reported on rumours swirling around the diplomatic circuit that at various functions Whitlam had enjoyed ‘honing his already sharp tongue upon the qualities possessed by President Nixon'.
³⁸
Whether or not the stories were true was irrelevant: even if Whitlam were sounding off at private dinners, there were enough on the left of his party who eagerly took the opportunity to publicly cast doubt on prospects for the alliance's future. A member of the federal Labor executive,
the communist Bill Hartley, expressed the view that the socialist left would ‘eventually be successful in getting a non aligned policy, and that would mean the end of ANZUS' and the removal of American bases from Australia.
³⁹

With this kind of loose talk hitting the Australian airwaves, Whitlam grew increasingly impatient, truculent and almost desperate. So he tried to force the issue, announcing in a television interview that he did not need an official invitation from the president, saying he would go to Washington anyway: ‘I think it's about time people took these things a little more rationally', he said. The relationship with the United States was ‘so long-standing and so intimate that a Head of Government does not wait for an official invitation'. He did not seem to recognise that the events over the previous few months had put a serious question mark over that very ‘intimacy'. Bizarrely, Whitlam thought he could simply drop by the White House whilst in Washington. ‘All this hoohah', he exclaimed, ‘that has accompanied visits by Sir Robert Menzies' successors is sycophantic'.
⁴⁰
Again, all the frustration of being in Opposition, of being made to feel that Labor was untrustworthy on the alliance, came pouring out of him. The strain was beginning to show, and Whitlam was struggling to contain it.

One of Menzies' successors took a kind of perverse delight in pouncing on Whitlam's clear discomfort. That Billy McMahon—his own credibility on the alliance shredded by the surprise of Nixon's opening to China—could attempt to make political capital on the question of White House access defies belief, but it did show Whitlam's increasing vulnerability as he sat, waiting, for the Nixon invitation to arrive. It also showed that McMahon knew exactly how to get under Whitlam's skin—and how to provoke him. On the day following Whitlam's press conference, and after telling the television cameras how much better he himself had been treated in Washington on his last visit there as prime minister, McMahon rose in the parliament and lobbed a live grenade straight into Whitlam's lap:

 

Has any other Australian Prime Minister ever before visited Washington with the expectation of seeing the President without
a formal invitation being issued? I remind him that when I visited Washington in September 1971 it was in response to an official invitation. Does he not think that it is humiliating to the Australian people that an Australian Head of Government should create the impression that, Watergate style, he is crashing into the White House uninvited?

 

McMahon was himself playing fast and loose with White House sensitivities over the investigations into Watergate, but he did not fail to hit his target. In response, Whitlam could not help himself, his infinite capacity for scorn getting the better of him. The response not only mocked Nixon's accent, but also his present predicament:

 

We all remember the ‘McMann' visit. I take such questions in good part because I realise that the American President and the American presidency would not be in their present parlous position if the present President were to have regular Press conferences as the present Australian Prime Minister does, and if the American Administration were answerable to the American Congress as the Australian Government is answerable to the Australian Parliament. I was asked questions about this yesterday in the House and at my Press conference. I have nothing further to add, to what I said then, but if the right honourable gentleman is still able to absorb a mature attitude I would commend to him today's editorial in
The Age
. I hope it will be noted by him and overseas.
⁴¹

 

Whitlam is reported to have told a colleague on leaving the chamber that ‘I really shouldn't have said that'.
⁴²
But by then it was, of course, too late. The editorial that he endorsed for listeners at home—and presumably for anyone listening in the White House—was one which had told the American president in no uncertain terms that it was time for him to ‘grow up' and issue an invitation: ‘Deep in the shadow of Watergate, dependable friends are perhaps what Mr Nixon needs most. He should not risk offending them'. But the
Age
had also made the point that the whole saga of the invitation was starting to descend into high farce, as Whitlam and Nixon appeared to be ‘playing a counter-productive game of hide and seek with each other'. It was
the ‘vanity of the high and mighty', but the editors felt Whitlam was trying too hard, his actions making him appear ‘to be over anxious for the presidential smile and handshake', thus ‘faltering in his early determination to adopt an independent, non-sycophantic posture in foreign relations'.
⁴³
The
Australian Financial Review
dismissed the idea that some kind of ‘awful retaliation' will fall on Australia because of Whitlam's comments, and looked to the occasion as ‘an end to tugging the forelock'. For some, national pride was clearly at stake. In Brisbane, the
Courier-Mail
labelled the American president ‘provocative and downright rude' for the ‘greatest snub Australia has ever received from the United States'. It recommended Whitlam not go to Washington at all if no invitation was forthcoming. The whole exercise of showing up and not being received would ‘demean Australia'.
⁴⁴
The
Sydney Morning Herald
agreed that the relationship existed irrespective of its leaders, and likewise advocated Whitlam to stay at home, ‘indeed since both men dislike each other, it may be well they do not meet'. But it came with a stinging rebuke: ‘We know now that we have a government hostile to the government of the United States'. Whitlam's sneer at the president, Lance Barnard's reference around the same time to the ‘immoral war' in Vietnam, taken together with the comments by ministers earlier in the year, showed that the government, ‘Right, Centre and Left, is anti-American and has no compunction in showing it'.
⁴⁵

When he finally arrived in Australia, Green could have been forgiven for thinking he had landed in an unfriendly country. Greeted by a wave of controversy over the question of a White House invitation, from the moment he landed the new ambassador was hounded by the press about the issue, some clearly expecting him to be brandishing an invitation card from Nixon as he cleared Australian customs. At the same time, American newspapers were reporting that ‘latent Anti-Americanism' had also surfaced in ‘protests against the high number of foreign shows on Australian television, and the dominant position of American movies'. Australian theatrical unions were also reportedly making life difficult for American live performers.
⁴⁶
Whitlam himself was adding to the perception that at least some Americans were not welcome, sharply criticising the
appointment of an American to head the Australian branch of the General Motors Corporation, or GM-Holden, then Australia's largest auto manufacturer, with 31 per cent of the market. The new appointment, Damon Martin Jr, was replacing the first Australian head of GM-H, Allan Gibbs, who was retiring. After earlier criticism by Trade Minister Jim Cairns, the prime minister followed up by characterising the decision as ‘very ill-timed': Whitlam equally ‘had no doubt that their sales will suffer as a consequence. The Australian public will draw their own conclusions'. It was a remarkable intervention: the political leader of the country virtually talking down the profit margins of a foreign company.
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Green had well and truly flown into the eye of an alliance storm.