Broadcaster Richard Fidler on the politicians he would never interview

Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Richard Fidler. The broadcaster, 58, is a presenter of the popular podcast Conversations on ABC Radio, and author of bestselling history books Ghost Empire and The Golden Maze. His latest book is The Book of Roads & Kingdoms.

“People are no different now than they were a thousand years ago: they’re trying to make sense of a chaotic world with limited information.”Credit: Louie Douvis

MONEY

What did your parents do for money? Mum was a nurse and had all this extensive medical knowledge. With that kind of intelligence, I once said to her, “You should have been a doctor, Mum. You would have been brilliant.” She didn’t accept the premise of my comment. She was brought up to be the consort of an impressive man. So, when she met an impressive man – my dad, who was a businessman – she got married.

Growing up, what did you want to do for a living? I had no idea. Throughout my childhood, I lived in fear of the future. Partly it was because of our precarious economic state: Dad had grown up in abject poverty amid terrible cruelty. He had a business career that went well for a while, then went very badly. So, for some years, he was unemployed and lived off what Mum was earning as a geriatric nurse. That was a horrible time, so I used to think of the future with dread.

Later, you got famous performing in the Doug Anthony All Stars. Did it make you rich? It afforded us the opportunity to travel. The first thing we did when we left Australia was go to London, go straight to Covent Garden, and start busking. We made £130. Then we went to Edinburgh and, very quickly, things started to take off for us.

Did you want to do it forever? No. I remember our first manager saying to us at the time, “What you do is so very good. You should do it until you can’t stand it any longer.” So we did it until we couldn’t stand it any more, which was 10 years.

You’re now the host of Conversations; you’re also an author. What does the work pie chart look like for you? I work on Conversations four days a week; three [of my] episodes go to air each week. Sarah Kanowski does two at the other end of the week. Then on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, I work on my books – such a different activity, such a different kind of pleasure. One is a balance for the other.

POLITICS

Are there certain kinds of politicians you would never invite on Conversations? Absolutely. People who instigate race hate. People who instigate any kind of hatred against marginalised communities. I also don’t really like proselytisers of any kind. There’s a place for advocates – of course I’d support them to come on the radio. But not on my program. It’s just too boring.

Part of the work of Conversations is to hold people to account. But it’s also about empathy – understanding the person you’re interviewing. Are those two things difficult to reconcile? I’m not there to hold them to account; that’s not the role of the program. I will do it sometimes, if a politician comes out with an egregious bit of hypocrisy. But I’m not there to say, “You say this now, but back then, you said that.” What are you going to get out of that kind of sterile exchange? I would prefer to talk to a politician at the end of their career, if I’m talking to a politician at all. And if there’s been a bit of a debacle, I’d rather do what King Charles did when he met Liz Truss, which was to go, “Dear oh dear!” [Laughs]

What has studying history illuminated for you about where we find ourselves politically now? That people are no different now than they were a thousand years ago: they’re trying to make sense of a chaotic world with limited information. And all things – even the strongest civilisations – come to an end. My most recent book is set during Islam’s Golden Age, when Baghdad was the richest, most powerful city in the world. There was a sense of what Americans might call manifest destiny: that the world was unfolding before [the citizens of Baghdad] like a rolled-out carpet. But that empire came to an end. They all come to an end eventually.

DEATH

What do you believe happens after death? Nick Cave said that some people are born with a religious or spiritual temperament, and some people aren’t. And I’ve always had that: a sense of there being more to what we see in the day-to-day diurnal world. One of the reasons I wanted to write Ghost Empire was so that I could come to the Hagia Sophia [the Greek Orthodox church in Istanbul, Turkey, that became the Grand Mosque when the Ottomans conquered the city in the 15th century] and walk right up to that veil of mystery. It’s there in that building, it really is.

Have any Conversations interviews changed the way you perceive death? It’s interesting to walk up closer to those things because it’s easy enough to walk right past them. When I interviewed [Australian author] Cory Taylor on her deathbed [in June 2016] – she was lying on her couch at home – it was fascinating to see how much in awe she was of the process. It was like talking to someone who was about to move to another country. Talking to Nick [Cave] about the death of his son was a different thing. Because I have a beloved son, and a beloved daughter, to even think about that fills me with a holy terror. But it’s a way of forcing yourself to look and think about the things that might confront you one day.

Describe your ideal final day on this planet. Being surrounded by my family, whom I love so much. That’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to me, having a family. I know it’s not for everyone. For some people, their families are a nightmare they can’t wait to escape; I’m aware of that. But for me, that’s not been the case. And that’s a marvellous thing.

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