Turnbull memoir: A bigger picture: taking shots in black and white

Tom Jellett April 21 2020

Malcolm Turnbull is defiant and unrepentant. He stands by every one of the 698 pages of his memoir, A Bigger Picture, regardless of how damaging it is to his former colleagues, the party he led or his reputation. The former prime minister insists it is a balanced and truthful account. And he vows he is doing it for the higher purpose of history.

In an interview for this column, Turnbull is bullying and intimidating. He says the interview is pointless and he threatens to end it early. “I honestly thought you were better than this,” he says at one point. But by the end, having answered every tough question, he is in charm mode. He says it was good to talk. My tweet about the book was lovely. And he wishes me good luck. It is classic Turnbull.

Prime ministers should write memoirs. They can be a valuable first-hand historical source. Accounts of their pre-political lives can be revealing. They are entitled to articulate what they hoped to achieve in politics, reflect on successes and failures, and draw lessons for the future. They should be frank. And they should be free to expound on and defend their legacy. Turnbull has done this.

But the key questions are if and when should you publish private messages and notes of secret conversations? Cabinet meetings are supposed to remain confidential for at least 20 years.

Hardly anybody is spared in the memoir. Even Turnbull’s steadfast supporters, such as Julie Bishop, have had their trust in him breached. It makes for enthralling reading. It gives his claims authenticity. But it is also damning and damaging. “If you don’t do that, how can you tell the story?” Turnbull tells me. “The reality is I am writing history. My government is over. We are in a different gov­ernment, different political era and of course with the COVID pandemic it is … going to be quite a watershed.” He adds: “There is not much point in writing a memoir if you cannot write it truthfully … it’s important that people know what happened.”

Turnbull accuses Scott Morrison of undermining Tony Abbott, leaking to the media about policy and playing a “double game” to become prime minister. He also praises Morrison and regards him as a friend. And he takes credit for the Morrison prime ministership.

“Let’s face it, he wouldn’t be prime minister if I hadn’t gone to great lengths to ensure that (Peter) Dutton didn’t succeed me,” Turnbull says.

There is much to commend in Turnbull’s book about his parents and upbringing, various careers in journalism, the law and business, the republican movement, his relationship with Lucy Turnbull and their children, and his time in politics. He acknowledges his failures in his first stint as Liberal leader (2008-09) and is candid about his spiral into depression and suicidal thoughts. He is less self-reflective about his second period as Liberal leader (2015-18).

He insists he would have won the federal election last year. He says the “coup” meant the Coalition did not deserve to win that election. While he holds Dutton and Mathias Cormann primarily responsible for his downfall, he argues there was also a grand conspiracy between the right wing of the Liberal Party and the media troika of 2GB, Sky News and The Australian. He is critical of News Corp Australia throughout the book. I ask Turnbull to reconcile the fact every News Corp newspaper endorsed his re-election in 2016 while Guardian Australia, which he praises highly, did not recommend a vote for his government. He challenged Abbott after Abbott lost 30 Newspolls yet Turnbull had lost 38. In the end, a leader must maintain the support of their partyroom. It can’t just be the media’s fault. “Listen, Troy, I don’t think you’ve read the book,” Turnbull responds.

I remind Turnbull that I had argued against the Liberal Party dumping him as their leader. “Well, what is your question to me then?” he harangues. “How much responsibility do you accept yourself?” I say. “Well, as the leader, you take responsibility, of course you do,” he replies. He points to Liberal polling showing the Coalition tracking ahead of Labor, how Bill Shorten was a “huge liability” for Labor, and then we are back on to the media. It is time to move on.

Turnbull hoped to “steer” the Liberal Party to the political centre and return it to its true “liberal foundations”. He failed. Turnbull contends that the party is now captive to a right-wing rump that uses “terrorism” to hold the party “hostage”. He is unsparing on the party he led. “This is not (Robert) Menzies’ Liberal Party,” Turnbull says. “It is not even John Howard’s Liberal Party any more.”

In February, I spoke to the Mosman branch of the Liberal Party. The branch generously invited me, as Menzies’ biographer, to speak about the party’s founding and its longest serving leader. I stayed for the rest of the meeting and a meal. During general business, a motion to expel Turnbull from the party was moved and seconded but not proceeded with.

There are now fresh moves to banish Turnbull. When asked about the threat of expulsion, Turnbull roars with laughter. “These are people committed to freedom of speech, no doubt,” he jokes. He couldn’t care less. If it is no longer the party of Menzies or Howard, as he claims, then why remain a member? But Liberals should remember that Menzies so disliked the party that he did not even vote for it, probably more than once, in his twilight years.

As the interview concludes, Turnbull asks me to encourage people to buy the book rather than obtain a “pirated” copy circulated by a staff member from the Prime Minister’s office. “As an author, you have a vested interest in that,” he appeals. Well, readers, you should buy the book. There has never been a prime ministerial memoir so compelling or incendiary. Just like the man who wrote it.