Difficult to love Fred Nile, Mark Latham and Pauline Hanson

Loving your enemy is easier said than done, especially when they include Pauline Hanson and Mark Latham.

That Jesus makes things difficult. Love thy enemies? I prefer to loathe them, which is fully reciprocated. Turn the other cheek? No thanks. Bend over and let me kick it.

These days, of course, the venom, the diatribes, come via hate emails or Twitter trolling. But a few traditionalists still send it in envelopes. And snail-mail haters prefer anonymity, though some, from force of habit, absent-mindedly put their name and address on the envelope. Not the case recently when, sitting in the studio, waiting to go on air, I opened a jiffy-bag to find it contained what’s best described as number twos.

It wasn’t the first time for such elemental, excremental or just plain mental criticism. Some years ago I publicly congratulated Australia Post for delivering me another ballistic missile in mint condition. It had got through the system thanks to professional tenderness more appropriate to a tulip than a turd.

Having said that, I must admit to being quite fond of the odd enemy, or at least opponent, while feeling fractious with friends, or at least comrades. Gerard Henderson, for example. Hendo and I have grown old together, blowing raspberries, heaping ridicule. I’d miss him if he wasn’t there. Whereas many on my side of politics either infuriate or, even worse, bore me to tears. Agreeing with someone doesn’t necessarily make them agreeable.

Thinking back over the decades, I recall enjoyable stoushes with such ideological deviants as Fred Nile, Joh Bjelke-Petersen, Russ Hinze and Bob Katter. Believe it or not (and I find it hard to believe myself, but there were hundreds of witnesses), Cardinal Pell once gave me a manly hug. I also recall a time when I was quite fond and even protective of Alan Jones. I liked Bill McMahon in small doses and the Malcolms, Fraser (late in his career) and Turnbull (early in his). In contrast there have been a few Labor leaders I’ve loathed, such as Latham. And at least one Labor PM. No, not him, the other one.

Right-wing loonies can be quite amusing, their public protestations and pronouncements being stand-up comedy, part of the act (this is particularly true in the case of conservatives who wear over-size Akubras, like Bob and Barnaby), just as all too often the opinions of left-wing loonies can be dull, predictable and unexamined. Admit it, wouldn’t you prefer to have dinner with the Mad Katter?

Much of what passes for politics or punditry are conjuring tricks, ongoing charades in which protagonists adopt a public persona. They become avatars — walking, talking works of fiction. I could name fellow broadcasters and columnists who’ve invented themselves for fun and profit. Sadly, some finish up believing the performance and take themselves seriously. The doll becomes the ventriloquist.

Some with whom we habitually wage war have redeeming qualities. A few weeks back, Henderson’s name came up in an interview I had with David Marr on the subject of Pauline Hanson (no redeeming qualities there). To my astonishment Marr stuck up for Hendo, with whom he has a more acrimonious a relationship than I do. “Gerard,” said David, “has always been good on race.” Flashback to when it was mandatory for my mob to demonise Malcolm Fraser. But even then, with memories of the respect in which he was held in black Africa and on refugee matters, we knew he’d “always been good on race”.

Jesus Christ! Am I starting to agree with the Christian saviour? If not loving then perhaps liking my enemy? Am I turning the other cheek?