Tim Fischer, a man for others

Our hearts are heavy after the death yesterday of Tim Fischer, 73, farmer, soldier, politician, diplomat, author and idiosyncratic enthusiast for life in all its wonderful variety. Mr Fischer was in politics, but he was not purely of politics in the usual sense, even though he had dedicated so much of himself to it and excelled at it. He was an Australian original, a man of action, the kind of bush pragmatist who could not quietly walk away after noticing a problem, an injustice or a person in trouble. For such energy, constancy, sincerity and sense of duty, Mr Fischer was respected; it was for his boundless humanity and singularity that he was so loved, well beyond the arena of power or his local roots. There were a score of reasons why he should not succeed — speech impediment, devout Catholic in a Protestant party, slightly odd abiding interests and mild autism spectrum disorder — yet he triumphed on every national and international stage.

Mr Fischer was a NSW and federal MP for three decades, leading the National Party for nine years, including three years as deputy prime minister under John Howard. His enduring political legacy was national gun laws, which the Howard government conceived in response to the 1996 Port Arthur massacre. Mr Fischer was vilified by his own rank and file in rural areas and regional towns for the strict laws, which involved bans on automatic and semiautomatic weapons, a national firearms registry and gun buybacks.

Born in 1946 at Lockhart in southwestern NSW, near the family home and farm at Boree Creek, he attended Xavier College in Melbourne. Mr Fischer did not go to university but became a “nasho”, conscripted into National Service during the Vietnam War. He was a decorated officer, got wounded and contracted malaria. After the army, Mr Fischer returned to the Riverina farm. At 24 he was elected to NSW parliament for what was then the Country Party. In 1984 he made the move to Canberra after winning the seat of Farrer. A wily political operator, yet underestimated throughout his career by friend and foe, he seized the Nationals’ leadership in 1990. The party was in disarray but Mr Fischer brought vigour, discipline and success to an outfit that would be challenged by the rise of One Nation and native title laws.

In a trademark Akubra, “The Man in the Hat” cultivated a quirky political persona. He had a gift for securing media coverage, at times winning national attention for neglected farm issues, but often the stunts attracted ridicule. During election campaigns he led reporters on the “wombat trail” of quick-fire events in small towns, “Two-Minute Tim” making a speech at the railway station. In any case, Mr Fischer was widely respected as an authentic and dedicated advocate for his natural constituents. As a wide-roving trade minister, he sought new markets for our agricultural produce, championed trade liberalisation and was a huge fan of Australian music, with a fondness for alt-rock acts Spiderbait and Silverchair. Mr Fischer won respect from both sides of politics for his decency, geniality and lack of malice. In 1999, he stepped down as party leader and from the ministry to focus on the care of his autistic son, and exited parliament in 2001.

For a time, he was chairman of Tourism Australia. In a mark of Mr Fischer’s standing and ability, Kevin Rudd appointed him to be the first resident ambassador to the Holy See in 2008. It was a role that took him away from the Vatican, a diplomat at large selling Australia to the world and indulging his passion for steam trains. He wrote books, promoted charities and led an unsuccessful push to have World War I hero John Monash posthumously promoted to the rank of field marshal. After retiring from public life, Mr Fischer moved with wife Judy to a cattle farm at Mudgegonga, near Yackandandah in Victoria’s northeast.

Late last year, Mr Fischer disclosed he was undergoing chemotherapy treatment in Melbourne after being diagnosed with acute leukaemia. A year earlier he said he had been undergoing mild chemotherapy for a cancer first diagnosed in 2008. Yesterday Scott Morrison lauded Mr Fischer as a big Australian in every sense — big in stature, belief, passion and vision for what Australians could achieve. His was a busy and large life of service. Tim Fischer was, at heart, a man for others.