David Penberthy: There are two sides to the CFMEU, and the wrong one is taking hold in SA

There are two sides of the controversial construction union, David Penberthy says, and Peter Malinauskas risks having the undesirable one take hold in SA.

The closest I have come to being belted during the course of my journalistic endeavours was at the Grand in Glenelg a few years ago when I’d infiltrated the inner sanctum of the national conference of the construction union, the CFMEU.

The then Victorian secretary John Setka was in the news for all the wrong reasons and his branch had just orchestrated a brutal takeover of the historically reasonable South Australian division.

There were angles aplenty and while skulking around the hotel looking for Setka with a photographer in tow, I thought I should approach some of the burly chaps in the bar who were having beers after the day’s sessions were over to see if I could get some rank and file comment.

Former CFMEU leader John Setka was in charge of the Victorian branch when the union muscled in to Adelaide. Picture: NewsWire/Roy VanDerVegt

“Hello, my name is Dave and I’m writing a piece about the CFMEU and John Setka for The Australian, and I’d love to get some words for you about why Mr Setka commands such loyalty from the members,” I asked.

They put their beers down and stared daggers at me.

“We don’t talk to c...s from The Australian,” one of them said.

I gave it one more try and said a few quotes would help make the piece more balanced.

“Are you f…ing deaf mate?”

I excused myself and headed out quickly towards Jetty Rd.

It was on Jetty Rd where I had a very long, pleasant and illuminating chat with another CFMEU figure, former national secretary Dave Noonan.

Penbo had a better reception from former CFMEU national secretary Dave Noonan. Picture: Roy VanDerVegt

While Setka and his mates were wandering around the Bay like bovver boys wearing T-shirts with cobras on them and a slogan promising “If provoked we will strike”, Dave Noonan was wearing jeans and a simple CFMEU-branded polo shirt.

He asked if we could go and have a coffee. We spent a good 40 minutes talking about his youth spent on fishing boats in WA, where he almost froze to death in an industrial accident, and how that episode pushed him in the direction of trade unionism.

He spoke about the indifference of big builders to workers’ safety, and told some fascinating stories about how he thought Setka, for all his foibles, was also misunderstood.

He explained how a defining moment for Setka was that his own father almost died in the West Gate Bridge collapse, riding a steel girder through the sky as the bridge gave way and somehow living to tell the tale.

The two meetings in Glenelg that day were an insight into the competing cultures that exist within the CFMEU.

The culture of the CFMEU within SA has changed since the Victorian branch took control. Picture: AAP/Kelly Barnes

In Noonan, it’s a belief in worker safety as a non-negotiable, a preparedness to use industrial muscle to improve pay and conditions, with an absence of machismo or profanity.

With the Victorians, it’s the use of worker safety as a means to enter work sites illegally and stand over non-unionists, a default position of industrial menace, all presented with a corporate wardrobe that makes their members look like they’re in a bikie gang or a hip hop band.

The rise of that silly “union power” chant at local CFMEU meetings over the past few years shows that the culture of the union has changed in SA.

The Advertiser did a great job on Wednesday quantifying the extent to which Victoria’s influence has changed the nature of construction work in Adelaide.

It’s a live argument as to whether the real culprits here are not so much the CFMEU – which by definition will always demand more for its members – or the cashed-up major construction firms in the eastern states who simply bow to their demands.

The CFMEU has been wracked with controversy over the past couple of years.

The other, bigger culprit is the Victorian arm of the Master Builders Association, which works cheek-by-jowl with the CFMEU through its workers entitlement scheme Incolink in a joint arrangement which channels millions of dollars back to both organisations.

Incolink is the same scheme which the Victorian CFMEU wants to use to steamroll SA’s stand-alone entitlements fund BIRST, with extra costs to builders through more costly enterprise agreements.

It is a pretty sad state of affairs when Adelaide builders will now only talk to journos like me about these issues if they get cast-iron guarantees that you won’t tell anyone who they are.

There was a famous dispute with a local crane operator who talked tough for a while despite an ongoing union picket at his business, saying he wouldn’t kowtow to the Victorian militants, and eventually did exactly that because he realised his business would get black-banned and go broke.

There are also some big jobs around town at the moment which operate as total closed shops and where Victorian subcontractors friendly to the CFMEU are being used ahead of local firms.

This isn’t the collegiate fashion in which building work has been done historically in SA.

It bodes poorly for the future of the Women’s and Children’s Hospital – especially for Treasurer Stephen Mullighan’s hand on heart assertion that the cost of the project will somehow miraculously remain at $3.2 billion.

Former SA secretary of the CFMEU Aaron Cartledge was steamrolled from his role when Setka and the Victorian branch rolled into town. Picture: Roy VanDerVegt

On the CFMEU issue, the Malinauskas government has done a better job managing perception than reality.

Sure, the Premier was quick to intervene and force the Labor Party to hand back a $125,000 Victorian CFMEU donation it received on the eve of the 2022 election, when it was politically embarrassed by the subsequent revelation of John Setka’s generosity.

But it has done a poor job defending local builders in an industrial landscape which had been peaceful for years until, to use that great quote from ousted SA secretary Aaron Cartledge, the Victorians “rode into town like a cross between Blazing Saddles and the end of season footy trip”.