Thursday, April 4, 2013

Jenny Sallans's Funeral Service



Jenny's family has given me permission to post the Service for Jenny's Funeral for her friends, especially those overseas who were unable to be there.


Jenny's Service


Music   

Good afternoon everyone and welcome to this ceremony to celebrate the life of Jenny Sallans who was 54 when she died in Whittle Ward last Saturday.  My name is Christine Howard and I would like to welcome you on behalf of Jenny’s family, her parents Jim and Olive, her brother Steve and sister in law Coralie, her brothers Peter and Bryan and sister in law Susan and all the other members of her family.  Following this ceremony you are all invited to join the family for refreshments in the reception room. In Jenny’s memory, please consider making a gift to the Whittle Ward.  There is a donation box in the foyer. 

There are many people who have been part of Jenny’s life; friends, good mates and university colleagues and members of the legal fraternity. Their love and friendship has always been important and Jenny’s family would like to record their appreciation for the support and interest shown to Jenny and to them.

Today will be a time for us to share some of our memories of Jenny, some readings that acknowledge our sadness at this time of loss and change and some words that will help us look to the future with hope. In a spirit of love and friendship, I offer these words for us to consider.

Let us live well today, for today is what we have been given. Let us aim to live all our days with courage and thankfulness so that we may leave this world with hope. For as long as there is life, there is hope. And where there is living hope, tended and protected by a loving community, despair cannot triumph. 

And so today, as we celebrate Jenny’s life we consider what she has left us. She leaves us with many positive memories, of course, and she also leaves us with the memory of a life well lived. If we are to honour her memory, we would all do well to remember that while she is not here to make the world a better place, we can act on her behalf. We can choose to see what we need to change within ourselves so that we can be the best we can be. We can choose to be better stewards for the world and take greater care of each other.

The uniqueness of each human life is the basis of our grief in bereavement. Look through the whole world and there is no one just like Jenny.  But she still lives on in your memories and will always remain a member of your circle through the influence she has had in your life.

We are here also to grow through an ending into a beginning, to let go of Jenny and, with memories gathered for the journey, gain strength for moving through the days ahead without her. Right now most of us have a heightened sense of what is precious and what is true. There is potential for connecting, truth telling and reconciling. This time together today is a time apart when all of us gather not only to remember Jenny but also to remember the bonds between and among us.



 Unknown source
The comfort of having a friend may be taken away but not that of having had one. Let us make the most of our friends while we have them, for how long we shall keep them is uncertain. We who have lost a friend have the joy that we once had in him to match the grief that he is taken away. Shall we bury the friendship with the friend?

We are here today to remember this optimistic, accepting and intelligent woman who faced what life offered, both good and bad, with realism. Jenny believed in living her life and letting others live theirs; she was clear in her opinions, didn’t play games and liked people to be straight-forward,  black and white even, as she was.  To many people she was inspirational, always practical with an active social conscience.  Jenny didn’t sit with hands folded and wait for other to act. She was pro-active and her sense of justice influenced her behaviour and dictated her career and life decisions.

Jenny had a wicked sense of humour and was an avid collector…a family characteristic. She collected anything and everything….miniature shoes, boxes, anything with eye appeal. Scrapbooking was another passion, as was cooking, her beloved dog Annie and cigarettes. Jenny was a Tasmanian by choice, preferred the bush or beach to city life and was a good neighbour. She would have been a wonderful lawyer. Her family and friends were always important and central to her life: Christmas and birthdays were celebrated with family whenever possible.
Life was not always easy for Jenny and she faced her diminishing health with courage and realism.  
She deserves the best farewell we can give her.   Now we will hear from friend, Paula Nelson,
?? from UTas law faculty and brother, Steve. These words will be followed by a photo montage with music for reflection.

Memories of Jenny

Paula Nelson

When Steve & Coralie asked me if I had any pictures of Jenny for today, I thought I might have a few, but not many.  When searching through my computer, I realised that over 30 years had passed since I met Jen, and my mind began wandering to times even earlier than these pictures I had 'on file'.

The pictures of mine here today, are only from 2005.  They were taken at Cradle Mountain, East Coast, Mountain River, Fern Tree, Eagle Hawk Neck, just to name a few places I remembered we'd been to together.  Her 50th birthday party – Barbie themed and red! was typical Jenny.

I was asked if I wanted to say anything at her funeral.  I said no thinking I would have nothing to say, BUT then it occurred to me that her family might like to know what others thought of their daughter & sister.

Jen was actually living at Ables Bay when we first met.  I remember staying down there on week ends, the wonderful cooking – Drysdale influenced of course, watching them doing up camper vans, the parties and lots of laughs.  She appreciated the beauty of nature, the wildlife and life in general.  Recently, she loved to talk about the trips she did with Val on the mainland and was always reminding me of 'somewhere I had to go see for myself'.

As years passed and life got ever busier, we didn't see as much of each other but we still caught up at places like the Womens Dances, the P party @ Zoes School, birthday parties, Queens Ball, Halloween, xmas and easter breaks.  Being from the mainland and away from her family, she was aware many more of us were too.  Her Xmas for 'orphans' as she called it, was a comfort to many.  Anyone with nowhere to go on Xmas Day was welcome at her place.  During the past 13 years we supported each other more as we both lived on our own.  We spent more time sharing thoughts on life, love and how to fix the universe.  Typical Jenny, always wanting to aim high – I was just happy to fix the earth.

I have never in all my life, been acquainted with anyone, with as much determination as Jenny.  Moving to Clarendon Vale, she saw first hand what it was like for the 'less fortunate' in our society.  She mediated with tenants and with Housing.  She saw a need and became a JP.  She put herself 'out there' to those in need. She was the most generous person I have ever met. She gave her time freely to those in need with no expectations in return.  She had very strong views of right and wrong, and wanted to do more to help people.  She embarked on her epic journey through University, the years of part time study whilst on an invalid pension, made achieving her dream of a Law Degree all the more personally satisfying.  She saw her diagnosis with cancer as pretty much a bloody nuisance, and wasn't about to let it get in the way of being 'Admitted to the Bar'.  I remember walking into the Royal one day, in the middle of her chemo, when life was pretty rough, and she's sitting up in bed, laptop going and study papers everywhere.  Before I could say anything she was telling me to shut up, she just had to finish this on time to hand in.  She was determined to be 'admitted' with the rest of her friends!

Friends and family was very important to Jen.  Kerri-Lee, Xanthea and Marcus, Kim and Mark, Michael and Ursula were all still very dear to her.  Her Mum and Dad were constantly in her thoughts. Steve, Coralie, Peter and Bryan.  She was up to date with all their goings on!  I know theres lots of people from 30 odd years ago, still touched by Jenny.

Jenny had previously supported her sister Diana, in her final months.  She was well aware of what to expect.  She never once said 'why me?'  She never gave in to it.  She was dignity itself.  She always looked for a way to help others.  Even when they told her it had spread and they were no longer going to do chemo, she was wanting to know if there was some trial she could participate in?  By this stage I'm asking her 'why' and saying 'can't you just live the last of your life for you!' but as usual the reply was 'It might help someone else.'  Selfless to the end!

Jenny Sallans was my mate, pal, buddy, friend.  She was my conscience.  No, she wasn't perfect.  No-one is. Yes, she could be pedantic – especially if she thought she was right.  We had some arguments over the years but got over them because we respected each other.  The worst one was a time when I said the law was an ass!  She said it was black & white!  I said there was times when morally there should be a different outcome.  You can probably imagine how she just kept going on……and on…..and on…..
Which reminds me how I recently described her as the Duracell Bunny.  She just kept going! 

I have discovered in writing this, that I have more memories than I thought.  Some I could share, some best kept to myself and lots that we just don't have time for.  So, this is me just giving a snippet of how we saw Jenny.  Determined.  Generous.  Dignified.  Selfless.  Respectful. Pedantic.  And we wouldn't have had her be any other way!

And I'm half expecting a 'cackle' to come from that casket!


Rob White


Jenny Sallans – Farewell

Sharyn and I met Jenny Sallans about 10 years ago. It was at a conference dinner for a Human Rights event. We sat next to this smiling, joking person and before long we were laughing our heads off. The conversation was peppered with witticisms and one-liners. It was a hugely enjoyable night. When we got home, we said this is a person we’d like to keep in touch with – and thank goodness we did.

Jenny Sallans had a ‘joie de vivre’ about her that was infectious. She was a great cook, and great company. She handled everything in her life without fuss, and yet appreciated everything that people did around her. She had presence. She was fun.

The Law was a large part of Jenny’s life. For many years, and before she qualified as a lawyer, she was a Justice of the Peace, of which she was rightly proud and enthusiastic. She took being a JP seriously and accordingly people took her seriously and relied upon her in many different ways. She wanted to be of service to the wider community. And this she certainly was.

For example, when she lived in Clarendon Vale, she would frequently help young mothers and other women in the local community – with paperwork, advice, and yet more paperwork. She was valued by her neighbours for her generosity and helpful nature. She became part of the fabric of their lives.

One day she was confronted by a very big, very tough looking bearded man. He pointed at her and said, ‘If anybody hassles you or gives you a hard time around here, they’ve fffing got me to answer to!’  Jenny experienced no fffing problems the whole time she lived there! Protection – of all kinds and in different shapes and sizes – comes to those who give, and Jenny was definitely a giver.

Jenny not only gave to other people, she gave it out as well. Rarely shy about offering her (usually well informed) opinion, she once counselled our daughter Sienna about a previous boyfriend – the quote unquote ‘dick brain’ that she used to see. After Jenny talked with Sienna, things were never quite the same!

Never one to suffer fools gladly, Jenny was receptive to everyone but intolerant of those who spoke falsehood or who tried to take shortcuts. She would speak to truth – in her activism, in her law school classes, in her private moments. There is a word for this: it is called integrity. With Jenny you always knew where you stood, and why she stood where she stood.

As I’ve said, the law was a large part of Jenny’s life, especially once she had moved into Newtown. Over many years of part-time study she pursued a Law degree. Jenny’s technical understanding of legal studies was simply outstanding. She got it. And she had a passion for it.

The law for Jenny, however, was never about ‘authority’ or kowtowing to what the experts and the books said. The law was about achieving particular ends, about creating and constructing the ‘good society’. The authority of the law was something that had to be achieved, something that had to be judged on its own merits. Law was about people, not pomp and ceremony or going through the motions. Jenny respected people, and the law, when it, and they, walked the walk – of justice, of equality, of respect for human rights.

Not surprisingly, in her law school tutorials Jenny was never afraid to challenge, and never frightened to speak her mind. She was hugely interested in studying law and in the practices and outcomes of law. But she was not seduced by the law, nor intimidated by its language and its trappings. As with everything, the Law was seen as a potential servant, and where this was not perceived to be the case, it was open to critique and condemnation.

Jenny’s face at graduation was simply amazing. The pride and joy was wonderful to see. She graduated with excellent grades, and with the experience of having published in the University of Tasmania Law Journal amongst other things.  She was an active doer and contributor within the Law School, and her university experience was marked by lots of engagement with other students, with lecturers and with many others who accompanied her on her long journey of study. She just loved the whole thing about being a student, being in the Law School, and being part of the energy and passion of ‘The Law’.

Jenny was a wonderful friend and human being.

She loved her dog.
She loved her friends.
She loved her family.
She loved ‘The Law’.

And she served us all – with humble pride, quiet resolve and generous heart.

We celebrate her life and bid her a fond farewell. Good-bye our dear friend. 


Rob White
University of Tasmania



Steve Sallans

Steve's Words

Paula and Rob, thank you for your memories and helping to bring Jenny back to us for  this brief celebration of her life and heart felt farewell. And thank you to Christine for guiding us through these difficult and emotional times.

For my part I would like to take this opportunity to celebrate Jenny's special character, as I believe her character was, and is, extraordinary and inspirational.  Her remarkable character was tested to the hilt over the past twelve months, and she demonstrated, in no uncertain terms, that it was as true and firm as I had known it to be throughout her life.

Jenny was brave; she faced the brutal facts head on; she did not brook euphemisms; she never complained or became unduly upset, nor did she consider herself a victim.  In fact, toward the end, and losing the use of her legs, she was offered a risky operation to her spine. Jenny, ever the optimist, unhesitatingly took this challenge on, determined to walk a little further before she left us.

After initial positive indications, her doctor informed her that unfortunately the operation was unsuccessful leaving her with movement only in her right arm and hand. She accepted the news quietly and calmly.  However, her doctor interpreted her calm stoicism as denial and ordered the services of a psychologist.  Jenny was duly horrified by this development and in this case Jenny did raise some vociferous complaints concerning her treatment, at least with some of us.  However Jenny counted her small mercies and was in fact grateful that she could at least continue to smoke her precious cigarettes, which of course she did to the end; well, no one's perfect after all.

In the face of her adversity, she stood as she always had; brave, honest, pragmatic, calm, optimistic and always considered others before herself, to the very end.

I think a good life can be compared to climbing Mt Everest, attempting the summit is the real game in town, and the risk of death is simply an unavoidable part of the climb, and an honourable one at that.  Death is simply one of the costs of experiencing this wonderful challenging life.

Jenny's example inspires me, and I hope it inspires others, to travel toward our inevitable date with death, not with fear, but as a challenge to live well while ever we can, and to not permit those things that we cannot control unnecessarily drag us down. 

While this may be easier said then done, Jenny's example stands before us to show us the way up the mountain. On the other hand, and notwithstanding her brilliant example, I do think she possessed an innate advantage that the rest of will just have to work that much harder to replicate.  She was by nature an intelligent, outgoing, sceptical, optimistic, personality who challenged life from her earliest days. 

The following photo montage may at first glance appear to be simply a set of dusty family snapshots. However, if you take special note of Jenny, you may find that even in the youngest shots of her you will see that special character bursting with interest and humour, challenging the authority of the camera, while others simply smile.  I believe these images will resonate powerfully with those of us who knew her at all well.


Its not possible to express just how much Jenny will be missed by Mum and Dad, myself and all of our family, and no doubt her many, many friends and colleagues. I think that I can safely say that we are all very proud of her philosophies, her substantial achievements, and her friendship.

Finally, I am proud to say that my sister Jenny died a good and dignified death, and I only hope I can do as well when my time comes.

Thank You


Photo montage with music for reflection  



David Harkins
You can shed tears that she is gone
Or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray she’ll come back
Or you can open your eyes and see all she’s left.
You can be empty because you can’t see her
Or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her and only that she’s gone
Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she’d want; smile, open your eyes, love and go on.




With understandable sorrow but with spirits lifted by our fond memories and our hope, we put aside our sadness at parting and all our regrets for things that were said and done or left unsaid or left undone. Only our love remains. To love someone always carries the risk of parting but not to love is not to have truly lived at all.

Let us all be strong in the conviction that in spite of death, the scheme of life is ultimately
good. Let us aim to leave this ceremony determined to live through the loss and the grief to
an even more abundant life. Death is not too high a price to pay for having lived. We pause
to gather our feelings and thoughts and we remember how Jenny touched our lives and in our
own hearts, we each say our farewell.

We are grateful that Jenny has been, and still is, part of our lives. We will remember her with love and affection and gratitude. And now we have each other. That is all we have but it is all we need. We are subject to natural law and to chance but our humanity gives us the power to stand over and against them. We have a measure of understanding and so we gain some control. We share our thoughts and our feelings and so we support each other. By our living and our loving we create the value of the world.

We commit the body of Jenny to the elements. We are glad she lived, that we saw her face, knew
her friendship, and walked the way of life with her. We deeply cherish the memory of her words
and deeds and character. We leave our dead in peace. With respect we bid her farewell, in love we
remember her companionship, her ways. And thinking of her in this manner, let us go in quietness of spirit and live in charity with each other.



Afterglow

I’d like the memory of me to be a happy one.
I’d like to leave an afterglow of smiles when life
is done.
I’d like to leave an echo whispering softly down
the ways.
Of happy times and laughing times and bright
and sunny days.
I’d like the tears of those who grieve, to dry
before the sun.
Of happy memories that I leave when life is
done
Helen Lowrie Marshall

Music

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Time to Deliver on FOI


Time to Deliver on FOI
published in Public Administration Today Edition 33 Jan-Mar 2013, 16-18.


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The APS has a long track record of being unable to manage the appropriate balance between secrecy, providing information as a service to citizens, and the public’s right to know.

Arguably, this stems from a reluctance to embrace access to government information as a right with limited protections. Moreover, there seems little motivation for the APS to give high priority to ensure the provision of reliable and timely information as an elementary service to citizens.

The general attitude, and particularly at the highest echelons, seems to be a continuation of an outmoded attitude of excessive caution and fear of the ‘chilling effect’ of FOI. Furthermore, the primary objective in managing FOI is to avoid the potential sensitivities that could be touched on by disclosure of some information.

Cornall in his report on FOI practices in the Department of Immigration and Citizenship wrote “ the Department presently seems to have more of an attitude of resistance to disclosure.” Timmins wrote in relation to the release of documents concerning car subsidies “Excessive secrecy and an abundance of caution still mark the response to some requests for access to information…” (Peter Timmins, “It’s clear FOI simply isn’t working properly.” (Australian Financial Review, 27 September 2012).

The 1983 FOI reforms ended in what then opposition leader Rudd described as a sclerotic information system. The cautious 2010 reforms have made improvements on the margins but were always going to be problematic if there was no political leadership to counter the APS’s inclinations and preference for high levels of secrecy.

Whilst it is a struggle to find Departmental Secretaries speaking favourably about FOI it is not too difficult to find the reverse. Former Treasury Secretary Ted Evans noted how Treasury had not been happy with the introduction of FOI because it might undermine fearless and frank advice. (Sid Maher and David Crowe, “Treasury ‘tainted’ by Swan leak,” The Australian 7 November 2012). Whilst he was Treasury secretary Dr Ken Henry continually warned of the adverse impact of FOI and the threat to good public policy and frank advice from the bureaucracy. (Brett Clegg and Jennifer Hewett, “Treasury Swamped by Demands: Ken Henry” The Australian 9 December 2010)

The shortness of John Faulkner’s tenure overseeing the 2010 FOI reforms was a major blow. Australian Information Commissioner, John McMillan decision to opt for a low key incremental approach to achieving the necessary cultural change in the APS underestimated the potency of the elements that drive the APS’s resistance to the idea of a more open government. These elements include:

·      The role of blame avoidance
·      Increasing and problematic impact of ministerial offices
·      The comfort offered by a veil of secrecy
·      Absence of any value adding by FOI in an era of extreme budget restrictions

 A review announced at the end of October, led by former senior bureaucrat Dr Allan Hawke, promises to continue a program of cautious change that will fail to offset the APS’s lukewarm response, at best, to FOI and the more common hostility and distaste shown by areas like Treasury and Immigration interestingly other areas like the Department of Defence have a good track record with FOI.

The Cornall review into the FOI practices of the Department of Immigration and Citizenship, in September 2012, concluded that there was a lack of a whole-of-department approach to effective FOI management.

Two years after the 2010 FOI reforms, the Cornall review is a damning indictment.
Yet, in reality there is a whole of APS approach to FOI management - to treat it as an unwanted imposition and subservient to protecting Ministers from embarrassment.

Strong, unstinting political leadership on FOI is rare in the annals of Australian history.

 John Cain and Anna Bligh both had to lead from the front and alone in delivering on FOI reform. There is little doubt that John Faulkner was probably a lone voice in Cabinet after the 2007 election in supporting the translation of the ALP’s commitment to open government in opposition into effective practice and legislation.

 Since Faulkner, the Rudd and Gillard ministers responsible for FOI have been noticeable for their lack of FOI leadership.

In part outsiders to the APS are to blame for underestimating and not understanding the factors contributing to the APS’s lethargic response to the 1983 FOI reforms and the small and begrudging improvements since 2010.

In his 2010 book The Blame Game: Spin, Bureaucracy and Self-preservation in Government UK author Christopher Hood argues that the major operating principle in Ministerial offices and at all levels of the bureaucracy is to avoid blame.

Hood argues that risk management is primarily geared towards the management of blame risk and that this “so often shapes the organization and operation of modern executive government, producing its own curious logic of administrative architecture and policy operation.”

If Hood’s thesis has any degree of accuracy, then FOI is a counter-intuitive and highly threatening government policy let alone legal requirement for the APS. As an accountability tool FOI, is the most problematic for blame avoiders because it restricts the options for blame avoidance, and even more troublesome, it increases the risk of direct blame attribution.

In the absence of the strongest and clearest leadership FOI will therefore be worked around, sidelined or avoided.

The rise of the influence, interference and shaping of public policy by ministerial advisers exacerbates the adverse impact of blame avoidance in the area of FOI. Terry Moran, former Secretary of the Department of the Prime Minister and Cabinet,  describes this new and growing layer of Australian government as an “accountability black hole”. (Terry Moran, “Political Staffers an accountability black hole” Australian Financial Review 26 September 2012)

Ministerial advisers now play an increasing role in how advice and policies are formulated by the APS and how they are communicated, managed and recorded.  Particularly, however, the decisions of advisers are primarily filtered through the lens of political opportunity or outcomes in contrast to the values and requirements of an apolitical APS.

FOI is anathema to these relatively new kids of Australian public policy and explains why in many areas of the APS there is now a requirement or practice to channel FOI requests, at some stage, through  ministerial advisers as revealed in the Cornall review.

APS staff working on policy development or briefing Ministers will often be constructing that advice to minimise potential future blame on them, from ministerial advisors and to their Ministers.  A more effective FOI regime would shatter the comforting veil of secrecy now utilised by the APS and exploited for political opportunism by ministerial staffers.

Justice Michael Kirby, during the hearing of the 2006 McKinnon case in the High Court, argued that there should be small but necessary zones of secrecy for the APS. However as an outsider, and idealist, Justice Kirby failed to realise that the APS operates with small, narrow and limited zones of openness that are always on the verge of potential closure.

Most policy development begins in a zone of secrecy and the possibility of that policy entering an ‘open’ zone is a rare and unexpected phenomenon. The default state of play is a zone of secrecy. In the APS it is openness that needs to be justified and fought hard for on most occasions.

As former senior bureaucrat and Public Service Commissioner Andrew Podger has acknowledged, the primary motivation of many in the APS is not ensuring legal rights of access and high levels of information service delivery but to avoid embarrassing their Minister. (Marcus Priest and Alex Boxsell “Combet ‘not involved’, Australian Financial Review, 25 September 2012, 7)

Instead of being information stewards ensuring the best and most timely use of information the senior echelons of the APS loom like sullen non-trusting guardians of an unwanted  legal responsibility. Finding APS champions for FOI is difficult, finding less than enthusiastic implementers is relatively easy.

Many outsider advocates for FOI fail to understand the need for the APS to have space to develop policy in-house and to engage in full and frank exchange of ideas and information. However, for too long the general threat to frankness and candour of higher levels of openness has been used by the senior echelons of the APS to justify excessive levels of secrecy.

The APS needs to identify what needs to be protected, and for how long, in the public interest and for good governance and to clearly demonstrate that the motivation is not simply to protect the Minister from embarrassment or political discomfort or curry favour with ministerial staffers.

The onus needs to be on the APS to demonstrate how and to what extent their implementation and management of the 2010 FOI reforms have resulted in an increase in the availability on a timely basis of better quality information that has informed public debate and policy discussion.

The 2010 Declaration of Open Government , as minimalist and low in aspirations as it was, has been left as one of the few concrete achievements in this area.

Most critiques of the FOI performance are largely citizen-centric. There is a good reason.  FOI legislation, whether or not it is accepted by the powers that be in the APS or ministerial staffers, grants legal rights of access to information and allows a few limited exceptions.

However the citizen-centric approach to a large extent has driven government information handling to institute measures and processes to counter this ‘threat’ of transparency. FOI is seen as an imposed process that value adds little to the decisionmaking processes of the APS, and in times of fiscal austerity, is an unnecessary luxury or burden.

There are benefits to the APS of more open government but the dividends will not be harvested overnight.  A fuller and more timely sharing of information will allow greater collaboration and cooperation on policy development between citizens and the APS. Greater openness will lessen the interference and decrease the role of political opportunism but not eradicate it entirely, because of the dwellers in Terry Moran’s ‘black hole of government accountability’.

Furthermore it will allow trust and creditability in the APS’s capacity to provide government with frank and candid advice. This creditability will accrue by not allowing uncontested claims of confidentiality to protect Ministers and others from embarrassment but by continual demonstration of the quality and strength of that advice.

Andrea Di Maio, a member of the Gartner Blog Network, has argued, in the area of open data, that too strong a citizen-centric approach downplays the vital role of government employees in open government. A government employee-centric approach does not have to equate to excessive secrecy.

The APS needs to demonstrate it can deliver an open government policy as effectively as any other program and legal responsibility. It needs to demonstrate that its claims for confidentiality are valid, limited and serve the public interest.

The Australian Information Commissioner has continued to promise that culture change in the APS is possible.

The APS needs to deliver.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

Memoir - Leaves 12-14 Car crash, Launceston early 1960s, A Road Not Taken


 The Memoir - a work in progress

Background see Working on a Memoir
Leaves 2-6 Ireland, Launceston, Cape Town, Whyalla, Cambodia
Leaves 7-9 Hooning, Teaching & Presenting
Leaves 10-11 Bookseller, Vexatious FOI applicants and shaky start to an academic career
Leaves 12-14 Car crash, Launceston early 1960s, A Road Not Taken



Postcard 12 “Now we’re moving in slow motion, To a piercing steering wheel, There’s chaos and commotion, The whole thing’s a bit too real" Mark Gillespie Pile-Up November/December 1979 behind Bothwell
The world spun and rolled before my eyes. Moments before I had been listening to Sue and Deb talking in the front of the car. We were en route to the back of Bothwell for a triple 21st birthday party for three law students. Deb had just received her Provisional learner’s licence. When I was growing up, in Queenstown, Deb was the type of girl I could never have imagined or contemplated becoming friends with. She completed honours in ancient Greek art, she worked part time (rare in those days), wore skin tight jeans and helped me to appreciate women as something other than as “traditionally” viewed (mothers, sisters, or objects of lust).
I can’t recall the noise or any screams, but once the car had come to a standstill after rolling along a long stretch of barbed wire fence, I remember crawling from the vehicle. Someone who had been in the car ahead said that they had seen the accident in their rear view mirror and feared coming back to investigate. Yet, there were no major injuries, only minor cuts or scratches. I can’t remember much of the aftermath except we continued to the party and I think I got well and truly drunk. Now, as I try to recall the events of that summer, I struggle to remember any details, apart from those very brief snippets from the accident.
Leaf 13. “Living outside the law when way too young” Elphin Road, Launceston 1963-1964.
I have no real memory, only a few scattered images from “that night.” It is dark, very dark, and I’m standing at a building site for a future hotel, just off Elphin Road in Launceston.  Maybe I was five or six. I’m not sure why I was there: maybe,  as a look out; to help carry things; or possibly to scramble through somewhere to unlock a door or gate? There is a man near me but it is hard to see, or remember his face, maybe there were more in the background. In later memories, he becomes my mother’s boyfriend but I don’t know. 
My feet were on the verge of another path one that could have led me into a far different engagement with the law, a darker, more savage and higher risk engagement.  On this path, I probably would have been unlikely to complete high school and more than certain to have experienced Ashley Detention Centre or its predecessor. This was a path I stepped from without knowing why. At several points, until my early high school years, I stepped on and off this path or similar paths as I flirted with and was caught up in several types of unlawful activity - petty theft, vandalism and other anti-social behaviour. At the time I never constructed a rationale why this happened or what was drawing me to a potentially destructive path.  Many years later, after reading The Outsider and attending a rare political science lecture on alienation, the concept of being an outsider struck a very strong and lasting chord. 
Leaf 14 “Ride on the chrome horse with your diplomat. Who carries on his shoulder a Siamese cat” Bronte Inn Sydney June/July 1983
I’d spent just a few months in the Tax Office and my relationship with Esther was in its first passionate but uncertain stages. In between the lust, passion and early discoveries, both of us could sense a growing commitment to each other, despite all our stark contrasts and few shared interests or approaches to life.
I found myself at a breakfast table in the Bronte Inn in Sydney. I had used my internal knowledge of the public service to arrive in Sydney a day before the final selection round for recruitment into the Foreign Affairs Department. I was there largely by a series of accidents, last minute decisions and a whim. Nearly everyone else was on a determined mission, often started prior to their university studies, to join the diplomatic corps.
 
The three day selection ordeal was designed to pinpoint the final 30-50 ‘anointed ones’ to join the Australian diplomat corps.  The initial pool of applicants had numbered several thousand. That potential pool was culled via an intensive exam, and an initial screening of the written applications, to produce a group of several hundred applicants who were then interviewed. Finally, about seventy applicants were brought to Sydney for a final 3 day culling exercise that consisted of tests, role plays, seminars, presentations and intense, but discrete, scrutiny of behaviour at all meals and cocktail parties.
Sitting at the breakfast table, I was unsure whether my travel ingenuity had gained me bonus points or raised questions about my ethics and commitment to correct procedure. Many (including me) were surprised I had reached the final stage. On a whim, I had sat a 3 hour entry test (problem questions, current affairs, short essays etc) with little preparation. My application was written in a frenzy, fuelled by coffee and orange juice after a very late and boozy Tax function. My application was written more as a stream of consciousness missive than a staid, proper and disciplined application. One part of my application referred to my approach to things as being like a whirling dervish. Later, at the interview round, the panel told me they had waited their whole journey around Australia to meet the author of this unique application. 
On my second morning in Sydney, I sat at the same table, and the serving staff greeted me as an old friend.  Meanwhile, other tables filled rapidly with applicants who had only arrived overnight or very early that morning.  The friendly and familiar greetings from the serving staff convinced many of the other applicants that I was part of the selection team and they started to speak loudly, letting their claims for selection drop into their conversations. Later-to-be Prime Minister Kevin Rudd had been through this process a couple of years previously, and indeed that morning one nerdy guy blew me away when he talked about his honours thesis and how he had translated newspapers from Vietnamese or Chinese. I started to wonder how I would survive and make it through the next 3 days of the selection process against such superior and gifted candidates. 
My doubts were confirmed when late in the evening of day two I realised I had missed some sort of social cue and was the last applicant in the room among all the selectors. Until that moment, I had pursued the objective to be a ‘trainee diplomat’ simply as another intellectual challenge or job opportunity and a useful escape option from the bureaucratic confines of the lowest levels of the Tax Office. During the night, I started to think about whether this could be a career path. 
The following morning as I listened to and observed the other applicants at the breakfast table, I reflected on whether I had been allowed this far through the process simply as a social experiment or a dark horse. Most of the other applicants had far brighter academic qualifications, refined social skills and had already in the last two days learnt to deliver finely shaped diplomatic responses. While I could analyse, dissect and be objective as any of those around me on Timor or military intervention in Africa, I was well aware of my preference to be ‘frank and candid’ and to keep pushing the ‘we ought to’ case. I also wondered how quickly my refreshing West Coast directness or bluntness would become unsuitable in a sensitive diplomatic post. It certainly had not proved a career advancing trait in the Tax Office.
After the three day session, I left Sydney still uncertain about a career as a diplomat. A few weeks later, I was asked to complete a security clearance form to finalise the application process. I didn’t and dropped out at this final stage.  Why? First, during the three day Sydney process, the Foreign Affairs staff had indicated how hard the job was on families (spouses couldn’t work, and it would be difficult, if not impossible, to leave a posting to return to Australia in a family emergency). Esther was very attached to her horses and coming from a very small family, a foreign posting of two or more years would be a major trauma for her and her loved ones, including two elderly grandparents. Second, I had moved so many times in my years at university, and in my first few months with the Tax Office (over 10 different lots of flat mates many who could rival the strangest people featuring in He Died with a Felafel in His Hand), that it was easier to stay with my preferred option of remaining with Esther.
Another road not taken.
I doubt, in retrospect, I could have survived as a junior diplomat. I remain uncertain whether at that early stage in our relationship I should have dragged Esther into that life/lifestyle and whether our relationship would have survived. Looking back 28 years later surrounded by my family and the life I have created there are no regrets. Esther and I have grown together and now support each other like two large trees, of different species, that have grown together giving each other a strong physical and emotional centre. I think the diplomatic corps would have offered neither.