The ‘trauma-informed’ lawyer hired by the government to beat Linda Reynolds
It’s appalling what’s happened to Linda Reynolds, the former defence minister. She’s suing the Commonwealth. Which is us. You and me. The taxpayer.
She’s doing it to repair her reputation over the Brittany Higgins saga – the interminable psychodrama that erupts every few months to completely consume Australian politics.
The allegation? Breach of duty. The government apparently rushed into paying Higgins a massive pile of compensation without letting Reynolds defend herself first. Without even asking. And because they paid up so fast, a festering heap of allegations about a political cover-up involving Reynolds and her chief of staff, Fiona Brown, suddenly acquired a sheen of plausibility.
Except two separate judges – in wigs and everything, not just random people on the internet – have now said there wasn’t a cover-up.
Didn’t happen. Demonstrably untrue. But the damage was done. So what did the government do? Apologise? Settle quietly? Let everyone move on? No. Instead, they’re hurling obscene sums of money – our money – at a suite of barristers to fight Reynolds and Brown, and make this all far more difficult than it needs to be.
Now, normally, the government caps what it pays barristers at $5000 a day. But we know in Reynolds’ case, in particular, that they’re paying vastly more because Rachel Antone, a senior boffin at the Finance Department, told a Senate estimates hearing this week that one barrister was receiving above the cap. She wouldn’t say how much. Just more. Considerably more.
Why? Two “very important” factors, apparently. First, availability – which is barely a reason at all. But second, and far more important, the legal adviser of choice needed to “operate in a trauma-informed way”. Trauma-informed. Mark those words. Tattoo them somewhere visible.
Because this, Antone declared, was “something that we hold very dear in the management of our claims”.
As you’d expect. As any civilised society would demand.
Which brings us to Justin Gleeson, SC. Former solicitor-general. Legal thermonuclear device. The man the Commonwealth has wheeled in to obliterate Reynolds’ case. As far as heavyweight barristers go, they don’t come much bigger. He’s in the High Court more often than the cleaners. He’s argued about East Timor. He’s argued against the Japanese about whales. He’s probably memorised the entire Constitution and recites subclauses while showering.
International law, arbitration, constitutional matters – it’s all there on his CV, gleaming like military medals of honour. But trauma-informed? That’s what supposedly matters here. That’s what Antone emphasised as a critical factor in approving Gleeson’s costs, thought to be as high as $25,000 a day. Costs that needed special approval from the Attorney-General’s department.
But is he actually trauma-informed? Has he done a course? Got a certificate? Attended a seminar? What does it even mean?
We don’t know. Because when we asked him, he wouldn’t tell us. A clerk responded that “Mr Gleeson is unable to comment on matters he is briefed in” – which baffled us because we weren’t asking about the case. Just his qualifications. We clarified this. The clerk referred us to the Finance Department, which repeated what Antone had already said – that several factors are considered, including the ability to deliver “in a trauma-informed way”.
Gleeson’s CV is on his website. Very impressive. Plenty of keynotes and scholarly publications, but nothing on trauma – nothing to be found between speeches on “technology dispute best practice” and his Hong Kong lecture pondering the question of international arbitration and whether it “can survive and prosper in the face of incommensurable methods of fact finding”.
A question that haunts us all, surely.
None of which suggests Gleeson isn’t superb at what he does. He probably is. But it’s blindingly obvious what’s happening here. The government didn’t hire Gleeson because he’s trauma-informed. They hired him because he’s a weapon. Because he wins.
They hired him because when his name appears at the bottom of a document, the other side starts sweating.
If any of this were actually about trauma – about care and decency and doing the right thing – the government would own its mistake, apologise, and help everyone get on with their lives.
But it isn’t. And they won’t. Because this isn’t about trauma. It’s about politics.
