Joyce saga makes me sad, not angry
EVERYONE else in the country seemed to be seething at Barnaby Joyce and Vikki Campion’s interview, but all it made me was sad, writes Caroline Marcus.
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IT’S FAR from cool to admit, but I got teary watching the Barnaby Joyce and Vikki Campion interview on the weekend.
While social media exploded with either typical snarky judgment or sanctimonious declarations of being too virtuous to watch, my heart couldn’t help but ache for everyone involved.
For the loyal wife betrayed after giving 23 years of her life to a marriage and who doesn’t deserve this public humiliation.
For the four daughters so badly let down by the man they should have been able to trust above all others.
For the young woman and former colleague clearly struggling through what is already a trying time for any mother, driven to contemplate aborting the baby she never thought she’d be able to conceive.
For the sweet, innocent seven-week-old, who will one day learn about the searing pain his very existence caused so many.
And yes, for Barnaby Joyce, too — that once admired, no-nonsense politician now under immense stress as his life implodes around him.
Of course, none of that changes the fact that the two main protagonists here were the authors of their own suffering.
Campion was at pains to claim her share of responsibility during the tell-all, at once point even needing to remind Joyce she too was an “adult” who played a willing role in this saga.
I use the term “tell-all” loosely, given that for the princely sum of $150,000, there was no shortage of questions the couple flat-out refused to answer: most importantly, when their professional, taxpayer-funded relationship became romantic and who exactly are the “They” in parliament accused of appallingly pressuring Campion to terminate the pregnancy.
Then there were the other public-interest questions never broached: why Campion was shuffled around Nationals offices, the rent-free townhouse provided by a donor, the sexual harassment allegations against Joyce and the unseemly hypocrisy in Joyce pleading for privacy with one hand — even arguing for a new tort of privacy and making a privacy complaint against this newspaper — while the other was held out to accept a fat pay cheque.
In the end, a mere 631,000 metro viewers turned in to watch the sad spectacle which was, embarrassingly, out-rated by even David Attenborough’s Tasmania — a verifiable ratings flop for a network that shelled out big.
But the interview remains significant in that it marks a turning point: the narrative has irrefutably shifted from Barnaby vs The World, to Barnaby vs Barnaby.
Few in the media would now dare argue that Joyce’s affair and love child should never have been exposed, but it’s worth pausing for a minute’s silence now to remember those who protested exactly that just four months ago.
Among them were the Sydney Morning Herald’s political editor Peter Hartcher, who told ABC Radio it was “prurient gossip”.
The editor of The Conversation, Misha Ketchell, called the decision to publish “wrong”, while Crikey’s political editor Bernard Keane admonished the reporting as “shameful non-journalism (that) debases public life”.
Meanwhile, Monash University associate journalism professor Margaret Simons said “the relationship was nobody’s business but that of the people involved” and The Project’s Waleed Aly asked, “While it’s certainly juicy as a piece of gossip, is it any of our business?”
Of course, many argued the exact opposite, including this columnist on Sky News.
Even host Paul Barry atypically went in to bat for the Daily Telegraph on Media Watch, arguing “if that isn’t news, I don’t know what is.”
Although perhaps that shouldn’t be surprising, given Barry had authored a warts-and-all, unauthorised biography of cricketer and pantsman Shane Warne, in which he claimed the bowler had bedded 1000 women, with — as reviewer Gideon Haigh put it — “no evidence other than guesswork.”
But back to Joyce, and the New England MP was still enjoying considerable support when he resigned as deputy prime minister and leader of the Nationals weeks after the Daily Telegraph’s now famous front page, at least within his own electorate.
Many of them told me on the streets of Tamworth and Armidale that it was none of their business, saying they thought it was unfair he should lose his job.
That stance is no longer justifiable, with revelations from Joyce himself over the weekend that he “knew” he would be out of the role by the time Sebastian was born — remaining more out of “spite than logic” — and Campion admitted that “there were public interest questions, definitely”, even if she didn’t like the way they were raised.
Even before he took money for an interview, Joyce was haemorrhaging what was left of public goodwill by tarnishing his new partner with claims there was a “grey area” over the child’s paternity, and berating the same privacy-invading media for not cross-checking his travel schedule with the date of conception.
Joyce again sunk the boot in when suggesting last week it was Campion’s decision to take the cash for the sit-down, a claim Sunday Night reporter Alex Cullen contradicted by revealing both of them had been involved in negotiations.
So yes, if you’re still wondering, it is possible to feel empathy for the human beings caught up in this tragedy, while remaining critical of how abysmally it was managed and firmly believing voters always had a right to know.
Caroline Marcus is a journalist with Sky News.