Papua New Guinea Independence Day celebrations took place in Port Moresby on 15 September 1975 with an array of dignitaries including Sir John Kerr, the Prince of Wales, Gough Whitlam and Malcolm Fraser. At one point Kerr spoke frankly and informally with Prince Charles about the possible future crisis and revealed his deepest fear—that the Prime Minister might approach the Palace to have him removed as Governor-General.1
Such a move would cause uproar in Australia. Exactly how it might be done was given much attention at Government House. Kerr was obsessed with the idea. It occupied his thoughts before and during the crisis and determined the destructive manner in which he conducted the dismissal. Kerr’s choice of a constitutional ambush on 11 November as the method of Whitlam’s dismissal was driven by his fear of recall.
The lengths to which Kerr went to protect his position reflected a paranoid mindset and a profound distrust of Whitlam that guaranteed the crisis would not end in a satisfactory political settlement. Kerr’s fear of recall permeated Government House, almost creating a siege mentality. The Governor-General felt from an early stage of the crisis that Whitlam was ‘implacable’ and, as a result, he decided not to confide in the Prime Minister but keep his innermost assessments to himself. This led to Kerr’s deception of Whitlam.
It is noteworthy that in neither his memoirs Matters for Judgment nor in his contemporary notes did Kerr mention his Port Moresby conversation with Prince Charles. Presumably, he felt it might cast him in a bad light. It is, however, mentioned in his journal written five years later and briefly appears in the newly released Palace letters. It is also referred to in a 1981 note about his relationship with Charles obtained by the authors for this book.
Kerr enjoyed an amicable relationship with Prince Charles. The account he provides in his journal suggests Kerr told Charles that in any coming crisis the reserve powers might ‘need to be exercised’ which could heighten ‘the risk of recall’ from Whitlam. According to Kerr, the Prince said: ‘But surely, Sir John, the Queen would not have to accept advice that you should be recalled at the very time should this happen when you were considering having to dismiss the government.’2
This comment by Charles is not in the Palace letters. It originates in Kerr’s short-lived 1980 journal, written long after the event. In the letters after the Port Moresby event, Kerr does refer to a discussion about recall but he does not refer to dismissing Whitlam. He does, however, refer to Whitlam’s dismissal in the context of his own recall in the 1981 note.
Kerr’s journal said that after returning to London, Charles spoke to Charteris who then wrote to Kerr on the matter. This is accurate. What is not accurate is the suggestion by Charles that the Queen would not need to accept advice on recall. The vital Charteris letter is now revealed, dated 2 October—a fortnight before the budget was blocked. Charteris began by saying ‘The Queen is delighted’ the Papua New Guinea events went so well. He then wrote: ‘Prince Charles told me a good deal of his conversation with you and in particular that you had spoken of the possibility of the Prime Minister advising the Queen to terminate your commission with the object, presumably, of replacing you with somebody more amenable to his wishes.’3 This confirms beyond doubt the Kerr–Charles conversation in Port Moresby did occur. His fear of recall was real. It is hardly a surprise Kerr omitted this conversation from his memoirs—while presenting himself as a stickler for proper process it shows him using Charles to get to the Palace.
There is now a rich history of Kerr’s fear of recall. In his memoirs, Kerr offered his justification: ‘I believed, quite starkly, that if I said anything to Mr Whitlam about the possibility that I might take away his commission I would no longer have been there. I conceived it to be my proper behaviour in the circumstances to stay at my post and not invite dismissal.’4
The Charteris letter of 2 October proceeds to the critical point. What would the Palace do if Whitlam did give such advice to the Queen? Charteris said:
If such an approach was made you may be sure that the Queen would take most unkindly to it. There would be considerable comings and goings, but I think it is right that I should make the point that at the end of the road the Queen, as a Constitutional Sovereign, would have no option but to follow the advice of her Prime Minister.5
This answer is frank though indiscreet. Of course, the Queen and Palace would be upset. The Palace would not appreciate in the midst of a constitutional crisis the Australian Prime Minister advising her to dismiss the Governor-General because he felt Kerr was not on his side. The political upheaval would be huge. The Queen would be plunged into the maelstrom. The rancour in domestic politics would guarantee competing public pressure on the Palace for the Queen to either enthusiastically accept or to stoically defy Whitlam’s advice to dismiss the Governor-General.
But as Charteris made plain, there could be only one answer. Of course, the Queen would act on the advice of the Prime Minister. Any other course was inconceivable. Charteris made the point Kerr already knew.6 Both Kerr and Whitlam knew the dynamics: the Queen appointed and removed Governors-General solely on the advice of the Prime Minister. This highlights the differences between Australia and Britain. The critical disparity between the monarch and the Governor-General is the hereditary principle. The Governor-General is appointed on merit not by birth. The monarch is appointed by birth not merit. The monarch has job security and the Governor-General does not.
Kerr did not have tenure. His survival depended on Whitlam and, in that sense, he needed to retain Whitlam’s confidence. The Queen did have tenure. No British Prime Minister could remove her. Yet the reserve powers meant the Governor-General could dismiss the Prime Minister. Herein lay the flaw in Australia’s constitutional framework—Kerr had the power to dismiss Whitlam, and Whitlam had the means to remove Kerr. This was the fracture in the system that created the 1975 constitutional earthquake.
The moral is that democratic constitutions cannot be pushed to the limit. Ultimately, a democracy depends upon its reservoir of political goodwill—partisan politics should not be allowed to threaten the system. But this achievement depends upon leaders exercising a degree of restraint in the interest of system stability and integrity.
What did Charteris mean by ‘comings and goings’? Kerr’s official secretary, David Smith, investigated with Charteris. The advice was that a phone call from Whitlam would not suffice. Charteris later told Paul Kelly: ‘You couldn’t just pick up the telephone and fix it up that way. I am sure that written notification would have been required.’7 Charteris and Smith both confirmed: the normal process would apply. This was affirmed by William Heseltine: ‘After the event, we had quite a lot of discussion about this issue … we concluded that some sort of written document would be needed.’8
The conclusion is obvious: requiring a letter from Whitlam did not equate to a Palace strategy to protect Kerr from recall. Anne Twomey said: ‘The Palace’s response to Kerr was really a statement of its existing and ongoing practice. It always required that advice to remove a vice-regal officer be in writing … the Palace was not seeking to protect Kerr by giving him this advice.’9 The administrative pause must raise serious doubts whether, in practice, a dismissal of the Governor-General was ever a viable option for Whitlam.
Jenny Hocking, however, has misconstrued the Kerr–Charteris dialogue. First, she claimed Kerr and Charteris colluded to protect the Governor-General if Whitlam moved against him. Writing in 2017 before the Palace letters were released, Hocking said: ‘It establishes a secret arrangement between the Palace and the Governor-General to delay acting on the advice of the Australian Prime Minister to recall the Governor-General, a decision fully within the power and responsibility of the Prime Minister to make.’ She added: ‘The implication of this vital exchange makes a mockery of Charteris’ concluding reminder that, in the end, the Queen would have to act on the advice of her prime minister …’10 Writing again in 2018, she said Kerr’s papers revealed ‘the Palace to be in deep intrigue with Kerr, to protect his tenure as Governor-General, in the weeks before the dismissal, unknown to Whitlam’.11
Second, in her biography of Whitlam, Hocking referred to the Port Moresby conversations between Kerr and Charles, and drew the link between alleged delay in recall and Whitlam’s dismissal. She said: ‘The Governor-General had already conferred with the Palace on the possibility of the future dismissal of the prime minister, securing in advance the response of the Palace to it.’ Hocking built this into a theory about ‘several critical conversations and understandings reached’ between the Palace and Kerr over Whitlam’s dismissal.12 In her 2017 updated edition of The Dismissal Dossier, Hocking again alleged that ‘Kerr had established in advance the response with the Palace to the prospective dismissal of the Whitlam government’.13
By any logic and reading of the letters, these two claims are false. In these comments, Hocking has relied on Kerr’s 1980 journal and quoted it extensively. She quotes Kerr’s journal referring to a letter he apparently received from Charteris where he gave ‘advice’ that ‘if the kind of contingency in mind were to develop, although the Queen would try to delay things in the end she would have to take the Prime Minister’s advice’. It is now established that no such letter with these precise words exists. The letter Kerr’s journal referred to is the Charteris letter on 2 October, now released. It does not mention that ‘the Queen would try to delay things’ nor does it refer to a potential dismissal of Whitlam.
The Palace letters, notably the 2 October letter, demonstrate beyond question that the Queen would remove Kerr on Whitlam’s advice. This is what mattered. There was no collusion between the Queen and Kerr. There was no ‘secret arrangement’. There was no agenda ‘to protect his tenure’. Charteris left Kerr in no doubt that the Queen would act on any advice to recall him. Kerr knew the procedure. Such advice was no big deal for him. Kerr said in his papers he already knew the Queen would act on Whitlam’s advice. Kerr didn’t think he had any ‘secret arrangement’ with the Palace. Charteris told him nothing he did not already know.
To reinforce her theory that Charteris had advised Kerr on Whitlam’s dismissal, Hocking referred to a handwritten list in Kerr’s papers with several points that include the crossed-out sentence: ‘Charteris’s advice to me on dismissal’. There is nothing else. There is no advice attached. This list does not mention Whitlam with this point about Charteris’ ‘advice’. Yet Hocking claims this six-word handwritten sentence shows the Palace advised Kerr on Whitlam’s dismissal. Hocking says: ‘Not only was the Palace aware of the possibility of dismissal, the Queen’s private secretary had himself provided “advice” to the Governor-General.’14
What is this advice? The letters show at no stage did Charteris give Kerr advice on how to sack Whitlam. But he did give advice in the 2 October letter about recall—referring to the conversation between Kerr and Charles—the clear implication is the dismissal being referred to was Kerr’s own recall as Governor-General. This is what the dialogue with the Palace was all about.
Hocking has made a further assertion in the updated edition of The Dismissal Dossier that the Palace ‘had failed to inform Whitlam of the nature of these serious communications’ with Kerr.15 But Kerr had established nothing. The Palace letters show no agreement on dismissal and no ‘response’ from the Palace on dismissal. The idea the Palace should have informed Whitlam on the recall procedure is bizarre. If Whitlam wanted to know about the recall procedure he could ask the Palace himself and be given the same answer—a letter would be required. There was nothing sinister or conspiratorial in this answer. It was the normal procedure.
Yet Hocking said: ‘This communication between the Queen’s Private Secretary and the Governor General over the position of the Governor General himself is politically and constitutionally shocking.’ She said that it was ‘impossible to overstate the significance of this exchange’ between Kerr and Charteris and that ‘the Palace was already involved in the dismissal’ because it had agreed to protect Kerr should Whitlam move against him.16 The problem with this hyperbole was obvious before the release of the Palace letters and is confirmed by their release. The 2 October letter from Charteris is ‘shocking’ neither in its content nor in representing any arrangement. The idea that Whitlam might need to write a letter to remove the Governor-General does not constitute a conspiracy between the Palace and Kerr.
The release of the Palace letters in July 2020 should have clarified this issue. Yet in her commentary after the release, Hocking continued her campaign claiming that the Queen had not remained ‘neutral with respect to political matters’ and argued ‘the Queen must remain above politics at all times’. She accused Charteris of engaging with Kerr on ‘inherently political matters’. She said that ‘the Queen breached the central tenet of a constitutional monarchy, that the Monarch is politically neutral and must play no role in political matters’. She added: ‘The damage this has done to the Queen, to Kerr, and the monarchy is incalculable.’17
The point here is there was nothing improper in Kerr and Charteris exchanging letters about the 1975 crisis. Governors-General before and after Kerr wrote extensively to the Palace about political matters, Richard Casey and Bill Hayden being prominent examples. There was nothing extraordinary about the Queen’s representative reporting to the Queen on Australia’s constitutional crisis given that the Governor-General might have a responsibility to facilitate a solution. The Palace is extensively involved in political issues and always has been. What mattered was whether the Palace broke from normal procedures and interfered to take a partisan position. On the evidence of the letters it did not.
There is no doubt that Kerr’s concerns on recall were justified. Whitlam would periodically joke about having to sack Kerr. His principal private secretary, John Mant, recalled this took the form of Whitlam saying: ‘Oh well, I might have to ring the Queen.’18 The most celebrated of Whitlam’s quips came on the night of 16 October at the Governor-General’s banquet in honour of the Prime Minister of Malaysia, Tun Abdul Razak. Kerr said Whitlam remarked with a brilliant smile: ‘It could be a question whether I get to the Queen first for your recall or you get in first with my dismissal.’19 Kerr said everyone laughed. But he took the comment as conveying ‘a very real threat’.20 David Smith felt it was ‘a brand of intimidation’.21 Anne Kerr was appalled.22 Anyone familiar with Whitlam knew he used humour as a political weapon.
The next day, 17 October, Kerr wrote to Charteris. He confirmed the Port Moresby conversation with Prince Charles saying that it did include the possibility ‘of The Queen being asked to “recall” me’. Kerr proceeded to describe Whitlam’s joke of the previous evening. He offered no judgement on it but said relations with Whitlam ‘are very good’ and that the Prime Minister wanted him ‘to do exactly what he advises come what may’.23
Kerr’s psychology and his preoccupation with recall was revealed in a public manner at the presentation of the Melbourne Cup at Flemington Racecourse on Tuesday, 4 November, one week before the dismissal. Think Big had just won the Cup for the second consecutive time. His remarks, even at this celebratory event, assume a deeper meaning in retrospect. As he handed over the Cup, Kerr said: ‘I’m presenting it, of course, under circumstances where the horse is the same, the jockey is the same and, thank goodness, the Governor-General is the same.’24
In the aftermath of the dismissal, however, Kerr’s memoirs, notes and letters reflect the depth of his conviction that Whitlam would resort to recall. In a twelve-page handwritten note dated 16 November, Kerr wrote: ‘On several occasions, sometimes jocularly sometimes less so, but on all occasions with underlying seriousness, [Whitlam] said that “the crisis could end in a race to the Palace to see who could get there first”.’25
The most devastating comment from Kerr came in his 20 November letter to Charteris reviewing the recent crisis: ‘Of course, though I did not say this to him [Whitlam], only he had to go to the Palace. I could act, if necessary, directly myself under the Constitution.’26 Kerr had accurately assessed the situation—he knew he could dispatch Whitlam with far greater speed than Whitlam could dispatch him. In short, Whitlam’s analogy of a ‘race’ was misleading since, if the race was joined, there would only be one winner—Kerr. In this letter, Kerr proceeded: ‘I am sure that he [Whitlam] would have known this and the talk about a race to the Palace really constituted another threat.’27 Kerr believed that Whitlam’s intimidation rested on the calculation that the Governor-General would not have the courage to dismiss him.
A sinister aspect of the recall issue is the evidence that Kerr raised his concerns with Fraser. The Opposition Leader was at the Tun Razak dinner and Kerr spoke with Fraser before dinner and then later in the evening. There is a seven-page typed note about this dinner in Kerr’s files. He said in the first discussion with Fraser before dinner that he made a cryptic remark ‘about things not necessarily remaining the same’. Kerr wrote:
He [Fraser] did not understand this—I was referring to the remote possibility that I might not be there, to possible but unlikely dismissal. He did not pick this up … having thought about it over dinner I concluded I should be rather more specific because I felt he was entitled to take into account a bare possibility which he had not seemed to contemplate. I therefore said to him that one conceivable but remote aspect was that as the crisis developed the Prime Minister had the option of considering the degree of his confidence in me.
Kerr continued:
He said that it was inconceivable. I replied it was a matter nevertheless to be at least thought about. His reaction was to say the Queen would never permit it. I told him that the question was one I preferred not to discuss. It was all most unlikely but he would have to make his own mind about it. I did this out of fairness because he could be badly caught by ending up with a Governor General who would not even consider ever using the reserve powers however bad the situation …28
This is an astonishing document previously revealed by the authors. Interviewed by Troy Bramston in 2013, Fraser said: ‘That conversation, in my view, did not take place.’29 Interviewed by Paul Kelly in 1995, Fraser said: ‘John Kerr was between a rock and a hard place … [he] knew that if he had the sort of conversation which the Queen would have in Britain then he would be sacked.’ Fraser said that he was ‘certain’ that Kerr had been under threat during the crisis.30
While Fraser may have denied the conversation took place, the detail Kerr provides, his account of two discussions during the evening and his decision over dinner to reopen the issue, points to a vivid impression in his own mind. While Kerr referred to recall being a ‘remote’ possibility, his behaviour suggests otherwise; it was on his mind. If he did have this conversation, it was invaluable intelligence for Fraser since he now knew Kerr distrusted Whitlam and felt threatened by him. If Kerr depicted himself, by implication, as a Governor-General prepared to consider the use of the reserve powers, that was more critical intelligence for Fraser. This conversation is mentioned neither in Kerr’s memoirs nor the Palace letters.
John Menadue, a former adviser to Whitlam, was secretary of the Prime Minister’s Department at the time of the dismissal and was retained by Fraser for most of 1976. Menadue made a note of an exchange that he had with Fraser on 28 January 1976. The note says that Fraser told him at his first meeting with Kerr during the crisis ‘the Governor-General had said that he could not give Mr Whitlam an inkling of what he had in mind or Mr Whitlam would be immediately on the telephone to London seeking the Governor General’s dismissal’.31
The Fraser memoirs, referring to the Opposition Leader’s talks with Kerr during the crisis, say: ‘Fraser also came away from the meetings with the strong impression that Kerr believed his own position to be at risk.’32 In short, there is no question that Fraser, during the crisis, was aware of Kerr’s vulnerability. Recall was not just a Whitlam/Kerr issue. It became a tangible asset for Fraser.
Asked if he intimidated Kerr during the crisis, Whitlam said: ‘I don’t know. Admittedly he was a gutless fellow. But I never threatened Kerr.’33 The critical question is: would Whitlam have dismissed Kerr?
Whitlam has denied this: ‘At no time during the crisis had the possibility of replacing Sir John Kerr been a significant element in my thinking.’34 But opinions differ. ‘I think Gough would have done it,’ Menadue said. Solicitor-General Maurice Byers said: ‘I think so.’ Cabinet minister Jim McClelland, who was close to Whitlam during the crisis, said: ‘Gough was a great constitutionalist … I don’t think it was in his nature to do that.’ Senior Liberal Bob Ellicott said: ‘I always thought that his bark was worse than his bite … I believe, perhaps contrary to what Kerr believed, that Whitlam would have acted more responsibly than Kerr feared.’ Whitlam’s speech writer Graham Freudenberg said that if Kerr had raised his concerns with Whitlam, he doubted that Whitlam would have retaliated against the Governor-General.35
However, on 31 December 1975, just two weeks after his defeat at the general election, Whitlam wrote to British Labour Prime Minister Harold Wilson opening his heart about the dismissal. He conceded a ‘fundamental mistake’ in recommending a lawyer as Governor-General. Whitlam wrote of Kerr: ‘He deceived me—realising, I’m sure, that I would have been in touch with the Queen if my suspicions had been aroused.’36 In other words, Whitlam was telling Wilson he would have recalled Kerr if he suspected he was about to be dismissed.
Written close to the event and to a confidant, this letter must carry weight in assessing what Whitlam would have done. The truth is we will never know. In such a crisis, Whitlam was likely to rethink at any given moment. There is no question he was intimidating Kerr. But advising the Queen to remove him would have been an extreme decision without guarantee of assisting Whitlam in the long run.
Would dismissing Kerr have served any purpose? In a vacancy, Kerr’s role would have been filled by the senior state governor, Sir Roden Cutler of New South Wales. There would have been a further delay in appointing a new Whitlam-selected Governor-General. Meanwhile, there would be uproar about the situation. The idea that Cutler would have given Whitlam free reign is remote.
It is, however, beyond dispute that alarm at recall drove the way Kerr discharged the reserve powers on 11 November. He made this explicitly clear to the Palace in his long letter of 20 November to Charteris. This remarkable letter constitutes Kerr’s real justification to Charteris and the Queen. Kerr said: ‘I feel in all the circumstances that I should make clear the psychology of the situation as it existed on November 11th.’37 He was utterly damning of Whitlam. Kerr said Whitlam’s position ‘publicly and privately’ was that he intended to ‘break the power of the Senate over money bills forever’. This was ‘a crusade based upon a single-minded determination’ and that ‘the matter was not discussable’.38
With a sense of satisfaction Kerr identified what he believed was Whitlam’s fatal mistake—he had underestimated Kerr as a man. Kerr told Charteris: ‘Mr Whitlam made a fundamental mistake in believing, as he apparently did, that I would let him do exactly what he advised and let him govern without supply and without going to the people.’39 In short, Whitlam’s flaw, in Kerr’s opinion, was his assumption the Governor-General would never resort to the reserve powers. Given Kerr’s history, this was a monumental blunder.
Kerr addressed what was already the central critique of the dismissal—taking Whitlam by ambush. He wrote: ‘The issue has arisen here as to whether I should have given him [Whitlam] say twenty-four hours to consider whether, after being told of my intention to dismiss him, he would advise a dissolution of the House of Representatives or a double dissolution and go to the people himself.’40 He continued:
History will doubtless provide an answer to this question but I was in a position where, in my opinion, I simply could not risk the outcome for the sake of the Monarchy. If in the period of say twenty-four hours, during which he was considering his position, he advised The Queen in the strongest of terms that I should be immediately dismissed, the position would then have been that either I would in fact be trying to dismiss him whilst he was trying to dismiss me, an impossible position for The Queen, or someone totally inexperienced in the developments of the crisis up to that point, be it a new Governor General or an Administrator who would have to be a State Governor, would be confronted by the same implacable Prime Minister. This assumes that there would be no alternative in the Crown’s hands but to comply with the demand for instant dismissal. If the Crown delayed I would still be here with the same problem but impotent or with much more serious decisions to make.41
This passage makes clear that recall was the pivotal issue. It drove every aspect of Kerr’s dismissal of Whitlam. Here was Kerr’s elemental appeal to the Palace—the constitutional ambush was essential to protect the Queen and constitutional monarchy. By this logic, it was also necessary to protect Kerr’s own job. Kerr desperately wanted the Palace to support his decision. He also knew that the Palace had no real choice.
Any criticism of the Governor-General was futile. Charteris, knowing the Governor-General exercised the powers of the Crown in Australia, had no real option in subsequent letters but to support Kerr’s action. To do otherwise would have been a vote of ‘no confidence’ by the Palace in Kerr and it was unwise of the Palace to start declaring ‘no confidence’ in the Governor-General. That would have been a direct interference in Australian affairs.
Central to Kerr’s recall fear was the incompetence of Whitlam. His arrogant and patronising attitude towards Kerr is almost beyond belief. Whitlam squandered his greatest advantage—as Prime Minister he was not just Kerr’s adviser but had the opportunity to develop a trusting relationship with his Governor-General. Whitlam singularly failed to do this. Whitlam should have engaged Kerr as a man and trusted Kerr as a Governor-General. That meant explaining his strategy to the Governor-General. It meant telling Kerr his plan was to remain in office in the cause of responsible government and force the Senate to retreat. He should have said that if this tactic failed then he recognised advice would be needed ultimately for an election.
If Whitlam had said this, Kerr would have been reassured. He would have known that recall was not an option. He would have known that Whitlam would not try to govern without supply. Kerr would have been reassured that his duties under the constitution would not be compromised by Whitlam. Reassured on these critical points, Kerr would have every incentive to give Whitlam as much time and leeway as possible in trying to force a Senate retreat. But, instead of making Kerr his confidant, Whitlam sent the Governor-General into Fraser’s arms.
There was a fascinating postscript to the recall issue in July 1976, nine months after the dismissal. Sir Garfield Barwick wrote to Kerr congratulating him on his ‘steadfastness’ and arguing that the Crown must be more involved in Australian life.42 Barwick’s implicit assumption, of course, was that the Queen had no role in the dismissal. He wanted a more involved monarchy without explaining how this would occur. But the letter was flattering, and Kerr sent it to Charteris. Significantly, he arranged to lunch with Barwick on 23 July 1976.
Before that lunch there was a discussion between Fraser and the legendary head of the Defence Department Sir Arthur Tange, whom Fraser regarded highly. Fraser briefed Kerr on what Tange said. It went to ‘the continuity of monarchical representation during a crisis’. In short, it was about the recall issue. In his letter to Charteris of 27 July, Kerr said that Tange and Barwick had discussed this issue. Referring to his lunch with Barwick, Kerr reported Barwick’s position was that the system could only work properly in a crisis ‘if the Governor-General feels secure in his office’.43 Kerr said of Barwick: ‘In a nutshell his approach is that The Queen should not feel bound to recall a Governor General upon the advice of the Prime Minister who has already put himself into a critical situation which could involve his dismissal and a forced dissolution.’44
In effect, this meant giving the Crown a new reserve power. Kerr gave Charteris a long summary of Barwick’s argument. It involved the Crown having the ‘discretionary power’ to deny a Prime Minister the ability to save himself ‘by getting rid of the Governor-General in favour of a puppet’. This would result in ‘continuity of monarchical representation’ at home. Barwick painted a dire picture if this was not achieved—a wilful Prime Minister could ‘destroy the Senate’s power over supply; destroy the reserve powers of the Governor-General; destroy the Crown’s powers; and establish a Prime Ministerial Presidency for as long as the lower house supported him’.45
This must have been quite a lunch. How much did they drink?
Kerr would have been attracted to the idea. But his common sense prevailed—at least temporarily. He told Charteris that while there were risks in the ‘status quo’ it must be ‘very unlikely’ that a future Prime Minister would try to govern without supply or seek to recall a Governor-General to avoid dismissal.46
Very sensible.
But always sensitive to the Palace, Kerr then said that ‘if I am wrong in my assessment of what the Crown would like’ on the power of recall then he would be happy to assist. Kerr said: ‘I could participate in further informal talks and put the view that appeals to the Crown as to what ought to happen.’ He made an extraordinary offer: ‘It could be possible gradually, if necessary, to develop a “reserve power” in this area. The best judgement on this would come, of course, from Her Majesty.’47
The idea that any Australian Prime Minister, Fraser or Whitlam, would tolerate the loss of this constitutional right was ludicrous. This was Kerr’s obsequiousness at its worst.
Charteris provided a substantial reply in a fascinating letter of 5 August. He agreed with the principle that the Governor-General ‘should have the same security of tenure as the Sovereign in this country’ in application of the reserve powers. He repeated how much Kerr’s action in 1975 ‘saved The Queen from great embarrassment’. Charteris said: ‘Had Her Majesty been faced with a demand for your dismissal she would have been immediately and personally involved in the crisis and whatever she had done would have been open to criticism.’48 Charteris repeated that faced with advice from Whitlam to remove the Governor-General, the Queen would not ‘have been able to resist the Prime Minister for very long’. She would not ‘have had any real choice other than to accept “advice”, extremely distasteful as it would have been to her, to do so’.49
But Charteris raised a question with Kerr: what did his trained legal mind tell him about this issue when he studied the Constitution? A sceptical Charteris asked: ‘Is there anything in it on which the assertion of a reserved power could be based?’50 Charteris then moved to his clinching observation:
But what would the Crown do in such circumstances if it had a real discretion? How could it, at 12,000 miles distance, and inevitably not in touch with the day to day events, have the knowledge and feel for the actual situation to make what would be a very difficult political and Constitutional decision, with incalculable consequences? This seems to me, from the common sense point of view, to present a real difficulty.51
There was nothing more to say. The Queen and the Palace didn’t want such a power. Their reply was so polite, so supportive of Kerr and so dismissive of an unworkable idea that would give the Queen an extra power she did not want, that could not be properly effected and that would violate the Australian Constitution. The Palace reinforced its position of non-interference in Australia. Charteris dispatched the idea. It has never been heard of again.