Don Chipp R.I.P.

Don Chipp has died, at the age of 81.

Readers of this blog from outside of Australia may not know who Don Chipp was. He had been a member of Australia's longest serving conservative government under Prime Ministers Holt, Gorton and McMahon. But he is best remembered for leaving that government and forming a new party, the Australian Democrats. The Democrats became the third power in what had previously been a two party system, when they gained enough seats in the Senate to hold the balance of power. We have proportional representation in the Senate, unlike the much less representative House of Representatives. A party that wins ten percent of the vote nationally can win ten percent of the Senate seats. In the House of Reps, a party that wins ten percent of the vote nationally will not win a single seat. The ten percent of voters who voted for that party are effectively disenfranchised.

For a large part of the past 25 years, with the help of a few independents and other minor parties, the Democrats have acted as a much needed brake on executive power, and ensured that there has been one house in our federal parliament in which legislation has actually been debated. It should be pointed out however, that they have never wielded power disproportionately. The Democrats were powerless unless the opposition voted against the government. When they did, the combined numbers of opposition, Democrat, independent and other minor party Senators represented a clear majority of Australian voters.

I first met Don Chipp in 1983, when I was the newly elected National Secretary of the Vietnam Veterans Association of Australia. I was on my first political lobbying visit to the national capital, with little idea of how the system worked. I made my first port of call the Democrat spokesman for Veterans Affairs, Senator Michael Macklin, whom I had met at a number of VVAA public meetings. Senator Macklin told me about the pigeonhole system, whereby people like me could get our printed material to all members of parliament and the press gallery. He offered the use of his office for me to do my photocopying, addressing and stuffing of envelopes.

This was the old Parliament House, where the offices were not much bigger than the broom closet in the average family home. The only place where there was room for a job like this to be done was on the floor. Before long, Senator Macklin and his staff were all on the floor with me, helping out. That was the sight that greeted Don Chipp when he came to the door to talk to Senator Macklin. Chipp was then the Democrat Leader in the Senate. He spoke to Senator Macklin, and went back to his own office. Seconds later, members of Don Chipp's staff arrived to help me with my envelope stuffing. Then Don Chipp himself arrived, and got down on the floor with me to lend a hand. So there I was, on the floor of a Senator's office, with two Senators, one of them a party leader, and their combined staff, helping me to stuff envelopes. That will remain my lasting memory of Don Chipp.

Long Tan Day 2006

The 18th of August is Vietnam Veterans Day in Australia. At least, that is how it has been officially designated, although we Vietnam veterans generally prefer to call it Long Tan Day. This year it was the 40th anniversary of the Battle of Long Tan.

I attended the ceremony at the national Vietnam War Memorial in Canberra. As I turned the corner from Constitution Avenue and looked up Anzac Parade towards the memorial, what I saw was a huge crowd, television cameras; an outside broadcast unit, a military band, and a troop of armoured personnel carriers.

As I walked slowly up the hill, the Prime Minister’s motorcade drove past me, followed closely by another motorcade, this time belonging to the Governor-General. “Wow,” I thought, “This is big.”

My thoughts went back to a day in August about 25 years ago. The Vietnam Veterans Association of Australia, still a mere fledgling organisation in the veteran community, had just decided to make Long Tan Day our official annual day of commemoration. We planted a lump of granite in the backyard of our headquarters in the Sydney suburb of Granville, bearing the simple inscription “for those who died and those who suffered as a result of the Vietnam War.” It was a small but dedicated group of veterans and family members who gathered in front of that stone to commemorate our first official Long Tan Day. Little could we have imagined that Long Tan Day could draw a crowd like this in the national capital in 2006.

I reached the edge of the crowd, still marvelling at its size. Yet even though I was pleased to see how big the ceremony had become, somehow I just didn’t want to be part of its “bigness.” So I walked across the road to where I could sit and watch from a distance. There was something about the crowd, the speeches and the VIP guests that gave me just the slightest niggling feeling that, at least for some people, this ceremony was as much a celebration of those of us who were there as a commemoration of those who weren’t. As welcome as that sentiment might be for some, it is not what the day is supposed to be about.

The most moving part of the ceremony for me came when Long Tan veterans Morrie Stanley and Dave Sabben read out the names of those who died at Long Tan. These men clearly understood what the day was really about. I can only hope that the majority of the crowd did too.

History For Sale: Writeway Research and the Department of Veterans Affairs

This week I have written a letter to the Minister for Veterans Affairs, asking seven questions about the relationship between his department and a private company that calls itself Writeway Research.

For those who are unaware of what this issue is about, let me give you a bit of background.

When veterans lodge claims with the DVA, mostly the facts of the case are well documented. There are occasions, however, especially with cases of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), when a veteran may claim to have been traumatised by an incident for which there is not a lot of supporting evidence. Now, the Veterans Entitlements Act is clear on this. There is no onus on the veteran to prove his or her case. The burden of proof is entirely on the department.

There was a time when, in cases where the department wanted to look for further evidence, it would turn to the Army History Unit. Some time in the year 2000, the department made the decision to take their research work away from the History Unit, and give the work instead to Writeway Research. This appears to have been done without any tendering process.

At that time, Writeway Research was an organisation for which the term "obscure" would have been a massive understatement. The organisation consisted of a telephone number and a post office box on the south coast of New South Wales. Now remember, what we are talking about here is a considerable amount of taxpayer-funded historical research work. As I say in one of my questions to the Minister, there was nothing about Writeway Research to suggest it was qualified for government funded historical research. Yet, for some reason, the DVA was determined to hand out the taxpayer's money to give these people research work that they were not qualified to do.

Here is the full text of my letter to the Minister.


Dear Minister,

I am a qualified and published Historian. I am also a Vietnam veteran with more than 25 years of voluntary service in the veteran community, working with organisations such as the Vietnam Veterans Federation of Australia, Vietnam Veterans Association of Australia, Legacy, Australian Veterans and Defence Services Council, Australian Vietnam War Veterans Trust Limited, Vietnam Veterans Job Link Program, and the organising committee of the Australian Vietnam Forces Welcome Home Parade and National Reunion.

I know you are aware of widespread concern in the veteran community regarding an organisation which calls itself Writeway Research, and its relationship with your department. I have personally raised this issue at deputy commissioner level, and I know it has also been raised at federal and state level by the Vietnam Veterans Federation of Australia (VVFA).

My interest in this issue began when a local veteran, William Bastion, took his own life, apparently believing that he had been branded as a liar by Writeway Research and your department. James Wain, the President of the ACT Branch of the VVFA, asked me to look into the case from my perspective as a historian, and investigate the quality of research provided by Writeway in this case.

I was appalled at the shocking lack of research competence and ethics that I found in the Bastion case. Just to give one obvious example, John Tilbrook of Writeway claimed that the incident as described by William Bastion did not happen. He apparently failed to notice that the incident was reported in the official history of the RAAF in the Vietnam War! Unfortunately this is not an isolated example. It is sadly typical of the standard of work Writeway provides for your department at the expense of the Australian taxpayer. I enclose a copy of my report to the VVFA on the Bastion case as an attachment to this letter.

I have since broadened my interest into other cases involving Writeway, and as a result I am working on a research paper entitled History For Sale: Writeway Research and the Department of Veterans Affairs.

It would be of great assistance to me, and of great interest to the veteran community, Minister, if you could answer the following questions about Writeway Research.


Question 1.

In the year 2000, the Department of Veterans Affairs made the decision to switch the task of researching the historical facts in claims presented by veterans from the Australian Army History Unit to a private firm called Writeway Research. Was John Tilbrook, then of the Australian Army History Unit, involved in any of the discussions or correspondence that led to that decision?

Question 2.

At the time that it made the decision to allocate taxpayer-funded research work to Writeway, was your department aware of the involvement of John Tilbrook in both the Australian Army History Unit and Writeway Research?

Question 3.

Did your department follow any tendering process when it made the decision to allocate taxpayer-funded research work to Writeway Research?

Question 4.

Given that at the time that your department made the decision to switch its research work to Writeway, the personnel at Writeway Research had no qualifications in historical research, no publication record, no teaching record, and in fact no track record of any kind in the Australian History profession, on what basis did your department decide that Writeway Research was a suitable organisation to receive taxpayer funding for historical research?

Question 5.

Given the standards of proof required in the Veterans Entitlements Act, the Military Rehabilitation and Compensation Act and their predecessors, what historical sources are considered by your department to be of a suitable standard to be used as evidence against claims made by veterans?

Question 6.

What independent analysis by suitably qualified professional researchers has your department sought, in order to monitor the standard of research provided by Writeway?

Question 7.

Given that they are not eyewitnesses to the events on which they are commenting, and given that they lack any professional qualifications to give evidence as experts in historical research, what legal standing do the opinions of Writeway personnel have before the Veterans Review Board and the Administrative Appeals Tribunal?

Given the seriousness of this issue and the level of concern it has caused to Australian veterans, I look forward to receiving your answers, and to ensuring that they are widely distributed throughout the veteran community.

Yours sincerely

I then enclosed my analysis of the Bastion case. You can read my report by clicking on the link.

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome - #1

It's been nearly a week since my last posting on this blog, and that is extremely annoying. I've got a backlog of things I want to write about. So why have I been so slack? The answer is simple: Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

I've had CFS for more than a decade now. It started after a bout of pneumonia, and it took a couple of years to be diagnosed. About seven years ago, I had reason to be optimistic, when I was found to have a tumour on my pituitary gland. Now, a pituitary tumour may not sound like a good thing. But this particular type of tumour is treatable, and can actually produce the symptoms of CFS. So, I thought, maybe this tumour is the reason I've got CFS. Treat the tumour and maybe the CFS will end. No such luck. I've been taking medication to shrink the tumour for several years now, and still the CFS persists.

I want to make it clear that I refuse to let this thing get me down. I've been able to get on with my life. I've managed to get a university degree. I've become a father for the first time. I've been able to do some voluntary work in the veteran community. If you check out my website, you'll find that it's a pretty substantial piece of work. Apart from my early poetry, everything on that website has been written since I have had CFS.

CFS is not a pleasant subject to talk about. But I'm sure there will be other CFS sufferers out there in the blogosphere who will want to compare their experiences with mine, and maybe even be encouraged by the fact that I have been able to put up with CFS for a substantial period and still have a decent life. For that reason I will talk about it.

So what is CFS like for me? Symptoms seem to go in cycles. But I certainly wouldn't call them peaks and troughs. More like plateaus and slumps. I've just been through the worst part of a bad slump, and symptoms are just starting to ease again. By way of illustration, I'd like to describe how I felt when I woke up last Saturday morning, the worst day of my current slump.

First, it was difficult to open my eyes. I felt like I had not slept for a week, even though I had actually had a reasonable night's sleep. It really took a force of will to get my eyelids to open. As I lay there in bed I felt like every part of my body had been laden down with lead weights. I just felt like I could not raise any part of me above the horizontal. The very thought of getting up and doing anything was just inconceivable. I thought about the things I would have to do if I got up, my normal daily routine: shower, dressing, breakfast, and it just seemed too horrible even to contemplate.

I am a father now, and I no longer have the option to stay in bed. I have parental responsibilities and I take them seriously. Eventually I had to force myself to get up. Immediately I was hit by a headache, followed by waves of nausea. These would stay with me throughout the day.

The family day out that we had planned did not involve anything particularly strenuous. Even so, it was a real struggle. Most of the afternoon was spent at a cafe, reading the weekend newspapers. But although it was a fairly easy day, even ordinary actions, like getting up to go to the bathroom, required an effort of will. My legs felt like jelly, my body like a lump of lead, and my brain like porridge. This was a bad day. On a good day, I still have the same symptoms, but they are somewhat more mild.

In this posting I have only mentioned physical symptoms. I will save for another day discussion of the psychological effects of spending day after day like this.

So that is a day in the life of a CFS sufferer. We put up with it and we get on with life because we have to, and because we can.

Wednesday is Bowling Day

Today (Wednesday Australian Eastern time) is bowling day. I bowl in a tenpin bowling league. How and why did this come about, I hear you ask?

Well, last year I consulted my assorted health practitioners about the possibility that I might undertake some kind of organised physical activity. They all thought this was a good idea. So I sat down and wrote a list of all the things I used to do when I was a younger man. Things like Cricket, Soccer Rugby League and Union, Aussie Rules, Athletics, Basketball, Rock Climbing, Bushwalking, Parachuting, etc., etc., ad infinitum.

I should explain that not only am I now middle-aged, I also suffer the following medical conditions, in addition to PTSD: a pituitary tumour; sleep apnoea; chronic fatigue syndrome; lumbar-sacral disc degeneration; hypertension, and probably several others that I've forgotten.

What do all of these things have in common? Perhaps you've spotted the common denominator. These are not only conditions that make it difficult for a person to participate in competitive sport, they also make a person feel absolutely disinclined to do so. They make you so tired and sore that the very thought of physical activity is downright depressing.

So I sat down with my list and one by one I crossed everything off until all that was left was tenpin bowling. I figured it would probably hurt, because of all the bending involved, but if I was going to do this I had to put up with some pain, and bowling was worth a try.

I used to enjoy bowling when I was younger, but I had never bowled in an organised league. I really had to join a league this time, because I needed to be accountable, so that I couldn't just give up. So I had a few games by myself to see if it was really feasible, and then I contacted a local bowling alley and asked about joining a league. They told me to come along on a Wednesday morning.

So I turned up at the bowling alley, and to my surprise I saw two women I knew. They were both wives of Vietnam veterans, and both active in the same veterans' organisation for which I volunteered as a pensions officer. I saw them frequently, but never knew they were bowlers. They invited me to join their league, and I've been bowling with them ever since. In fact, I won the league in my first year, but that is mainly because I started badly and inproved steadily throughout the year. That meant that my improvement always stayed one step ahead of the handicapper. It is harder this year, because my handicap now realistically reflects my ability.

So now, in my second year, I am averaging 153, and that is way beyond anything I had in mind when I started.

It still hurts, and every week it takes me about a game and a half to get the creaky old joints and muscles going, but it is a lot of fun and I'm glad I took the plunge.