Monday, 3 August 2015

Bronwyn Bishop had to be forced out – but some good may come of the scandal

Bronwyn Bishop tried every move to cling on to the Speaker’s chair.
Bronwyn Bishop tried every move to tactic on to the Speaker’s chair. Photograph: Mick Tsikas/AAP
There’s every reason to be cynical about Bronwyn Bishop’s resignation and Tony Abbott’s sudden concern about the rules governing politicians’ expenses. But good could still come of both.
We all know Bishop only resigned after exhausting every tactic to try to keep her job, that she clung to the office of Speaker with all the strength in her formidably long fingernails.
She says she is resigning “because of my love and respect for the institution of parliament and the Australian people”.
Presumably that “love and respect” didn’t materialise sometime since Thursday, when she tried the “humble apology” tactic but insisted she wouldn’t be leaving. And of course the “love and respect” did not prevent her from charging taxpayers for helicopter rides and scores of contested expense claims in the first place.
Nor did the “love” for the institution of parliament prevent her from being seen as a particularly partisan chair. She resigned, belatedly and reluctantly, for purely political reasons – because the Abbott government had run out of all other options and the prime minister was paying too high a personal price to continue to protect her.
But the damage from the whole affair and inevitable scrutiny of her successor might just mean they take a more even-handed approach to the job. The Coalition might even make good its pre-election promises that the Speaker should be truly independent, refrain from attending party room meetings (and presumably also party fundraisers).
We also know that Abbott only announced a “root and branch” review of the rules governing politicians’ expenses because Bishop’s travel claims had, once again, shone a light on the fact that there are often no hard and fast rules.
The prime minister claims this review will “go back to first principles”, that it won’t “tinker around the edges”, and that it will resolve the issue “once and for all”.
But of course the problems with the system didn’t suddenly surface over the past few weeks either. In February, for example, the former speaker Peter Slipper won an appeal against a conviction for using his cab charge entitlements for reasons other than “parliamentary business” (a trip to the Canberra vineyards) in part because there was no definition of “parliamentary business”.
The real aim of the review is to provide another political circuit breaker.
If scrutiny moves from the former Madam Speaker’s expenses to other MPs and senators, the prime minister can point to the inquiry. It also provides an explanation for her resignation even though she insists that, in the eyes of the law, if not the Australian people, she has done nothing wrong. It puts the blame on the system. It allows the prime minister to insist this is “not about the individual”.
But the two men appointed to undertake the review – former finance department head David Tune and Remuneration Tribunal chair John Conde – are well respected.
If we end up with rules that state clearly that taking a taxi for a day trip to the vineyards is not, in fact, parliamentary business, or that a secret solo Friday night meeting with an unnamed source does not constitute “business” for a parliamentary committee chair and does not justify an airfare to a colleague’s wedding, then that would also be good. 

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