Left Right Left: Political Essays 1977-2005

By Robert Manne, Melbourne: Black Inc, 2005, 534 pages, paperback, $34.95. Reviewed by Matthew Lamb in the August 2005 issue.

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There is something about Robert Manne which I have often found puzzling. But as I have also often agreed with what he has had to say -- or, at least, at times, not disagreed with him too vehemently -- I have never let my puzzlement outweigh my respect. It was not until Black Inc. released this collection of Manne's political essays, spanning the last thirty years -- including his two contributions to the worthy Quarterly Essay series, also published by Black Inc. -- that I started to develop a sense of what the cause of this puzzlement may be. Reading, in a relatively short space of time, such a wide selection of his writing, covering such a broad period, really makes the consistent shape of Manne's thinking come to the foreground. And what became obvious, to me, at least, is that although his conclusions may be worthy of our attention, they are usually underwritten by a world view and a style of criticism that threatens to undermine their effectiveness in really achieving anything very much at all.

Robert Manne's world is one of experts and specialists. Every expert has their own field, and each expert should not presume to infringe upon any other specialised field, lest they get burnt. Fortunately for Manne, his fields of expertise are the political and the historical aspects of Australian culture. His working definition of our Australian culture, then, seems to be the interaction between our current political debates and their larger historical context. This positions Manne well in the role of cultural commentator.

In this role, Manne rarely encroaches on the specialist fields that exist outside the limits of his specialist comfort zone. And when he does, he later regrets doing so, as he admits over the publication of his work, Shutdown, which critiques the rise of economic rationalism in Australia. 'Of all the controversies in which I have been involved the one centred on Shutdown is my only regret. I now believe I should not have allowed my misgivings . . . to draw me into participation in what was essentially an economists' debate'. (2004)

But if he regrets his own infringement of other fields of expertise, he is more critical of others who presume to do the same, especially if this encroaches on his own chosen fields. In this way, a persistent style of criticism can be seen running through his work that leads, for example, from his anti-Communism, through the Demidenko affair, and finally to his critique of Keith Windschuttle. In 'Writers and Communism', (Quadrant, 1991) Manne criticises the political judgement of the literary intelligentsia: 'Political judgement -- the capacity to judge rightly of political matters in the totality of things -- is clearly a quality quite distinct from, say, poetic imagination or theoretical originality. Indeed one is tempted to wonder whether there is something non-accidental about the calamities which occur when the writer of heightened sensibility or conceptual brilliance is let loose on politics'. This argument reappears in Manne's critique of Helen Demidenko and the subsequent debate that ensued around the publication of her novel, The Hand that Signed the Paper: the literary intelligentsia are simply not qualified to speak on what is essentially a political and historical debate, of which the charge of anti-Semitism in Demidenko's work is founded. Finally, this style of criticism is employed most vehemently throughout Manne's critique on Keith Windschuttle and the controversy around his revisionist history, The Fabrication of Aboriginal History. In the introduction to Whitewash (an edited version of which appears in this collection), Manne explicitly links the Demidenko debate with the Windschuttle debate, when he states that 'the first volume of Keith Windschuttle's Fabrication contributes to Australian history what Helen Demidenko's The Hand that Signed the Paper contributed to Australian fiction -- counterfeit coin. [...] What was so dispiriting about the Demidenko affair was the lapse of critical judgement in so large a part of Australia's intelligentsia'. (2003) Of course, he has already shown that such a lapse in critical judgment is almost their defining characteristic.

The lines marked out in this world view of experts and specialists are so stark that it is almost impossible for anybody to reside in more than one realm at any given time. In his centenary tribute article on George Orwell, Manne argues that one of the reasons that George Orwell has remained relevant 'is, in part, connected with his political judgement'. (ABR, 2003-2004) Of course, Manne can only accept this if at the same time Orwell's literary output is dismissed. As he did ten years earlier, in his Quadrant article, 'Writers and Communists': 'I regard George Orwell as one of the greatest political writers our century. However it is also clear that he altogether lacks a poet's imagination or a philosopher's theoretical stamina'. (1991)

Here matters here are made more complicated by the presence of a strong ideological divide between left and right. In such a world, being an expert is often not enough. One has to also possess the correct 'judgement'. Throughout Manne's work, the source of this 'judgement' seems to be associated with whichever ideological position he happens to be adopting at the time. Experts on the other side of this divide seem to lack the necessary judgement, he tells us, or else their ideological blindness disables them from executing their expertise adequately.

In such a polarised world view, whenever one's expertise conflicts too greatly with one's judgement, this seems to create a tension that either collapses their specialist reputation or else propels their judgement, and themselves with it, into the opposite ideological position. Robert Manne, following the latter scenario, has steadfastly maintained a grip on his fields of expertise, while his judgement has catapulted himself from the left to the right and then back to the left. It is this movement which gives this current collection of essays its title, with this Left Right Left marching beat providing the rhythm against which we can follow the campaigns of this self-confessed battle-scarred cultural warrior.

It seems a little odd, then, to find in the preface to this work Manne's hope that most of the essays 'fall outside the conventional perspectives of left and right'. They don't. There is one moment in the whole collection where I thought otherwise. In an article on Noel Pearson, Manne relates his visit to various Aboriginal communities in Cape York. (Age/SMH, July 2001) 'In all of this what struck me most forcibly was the sterility of the present ideological division, between left and right, over the present and future situation of the remote Aboriginal communities'. In these circumstances, he describes Noel Pearson as 'one of the most imaginative and penetrating social thinkers in Australia': 'Pearson is, in fact, one of those rare intellectuals who has moved his thinking beyond left and right'. Less than six months later, and in the very next article in this collection, Manne, having momentarily skipped a beat, regains the rhythm of his comfortable ideological world view: 'Although Noel Pearson is by nature a man of the left', he now tells us, 'at present his chief animus seems to be directed against his former progressivist friends . . . In my view the indulgence of this irritation is a political mistake. Pearson is in danger of forgetting . . . that in their common struggle for the survival of the indigenous people against the indifference of the mainstream and the assimilationism of the right, the support of the good-hearted, bridge walking, middle-class liberal left remains an asset of inestimable worth'. (Age/SMH, November 2001). Unable to allow Pearson to try to forge his own intellectual path outside the left and right perspectives, Manne attempts to rein him back in, and to give him a scolding at the same time for his poor political judgment.

What chance, then, would an ordinary citizen have in arriving at an independent position on the direction their society is taking?

And this is what puzzles me about Robert Manne. I am uncertain where the majority of Australian citizens -- who fall outside the realm of the experts -- exist in his world view. Elsewhere in this collection, Manne bemoans the chasm that has widened over the last thirty years between the 'elites' and the 'ordinary people'. And he credits John Howard with having 'solved the riddle of Australian politics' by exploiting so successfully a form of politics 'where the inconvenient views of experts and the opinions of the left-liberal intelligentsia are systematically bypassed'. (...And Where Are we Now?, 2004) But, sadly, I do not think Manne's fiercely held world view has done much to bridge this gap, and at times I am concerned he may even have held it apart.

I have said that I have often found myself in agreement with Manne's political and historical positions. However, if I am to take his world view seriously, upon which these positions are based, then I would have to admit that I am actually not qualified to agree with him at all. For I am neither a political nor an historical expert. But if the standard he applies to those who disagree with him is to be maintained seriously, then it would have to apply equally to those who agree with him. I may, for example, agree with Manne's critique of Windschuttle's revisionist history -- and I do -- but if so, then I would have to admit that the style of criticisms he levels against Windschuttle, in terms of his lack of historical expertise -- his proven failure to 'read whatever available published and unpublished sources exist', his ignorance of 'contemporary scholarly debate', his inability to appreciate that 'writing history invariably takes imagination, absorption in the sources, and also time,' and his lack of inclination to undergo such a 'genuinely daunting research task' -- are also criticisms that can be equally levelled against myself, and the majority of Australian citizens. By his own measure, most Australian citizens should not presume to participate in debates about our own history. In this way, the content of Robert Manne's criticisms are undermined by the style he employs in pursuing them, and their effectiveness as a constructive social tool is lost. Because in pursuing his targets he distances himself at the same time from those he hopes to benefit.

I am not making an anti-elitist diatribe here, nor am I attacking Robert Manne personally, or asking that he lowers the standards of his hard earned expertise. Robert Manne, as one of our leading intellectuals, provides one of the main models of how to be an intellectual in Australia today. And it is because the task of our intellectuals is so important that I am questioning the obstacles that stand between the valuable content of their work and the general public. And it is imperative that intellectuals like Manne do the same, even if it involves confronting the uncomfortable truth that they themselves may be the source of some of these obstacles. But the alternative is perhaps even more uncomfortable to face -- and it is happening now -- that the message we citizens are left with is to not allow our misgivings about the direction our society is taking to draw us into participation in what is essentially an intellectual's debate.

Citation

• Matthew Lamb. 'Review: Left Right Left: Political Essays 1977-2005 by Robert Manne' [online]. Network Review of Books (Perth, Australian Public Intellectual Network), August 2005. Availability: <please cite the web address here> ISSN 1833-0932. [accessed 24 May 2013].

Back Cover Blurb

• Anyone who has ever read one of Robert Manne's newspaper columns or one of his powerful book-length investigations will not be surprised to find here a treasure-trove of thought, argument and evocation. Left Right Left collects the high points from a lifetime of writing, including essays that have won the George Watson, Alfred Deakin and Queensland Premier's prizes.
  
  Manne's political trajectory - from right to left - has been an unusual and intriguing one. In the course of it, he has written definitive accounts of many of the key public controversies of the past thirty years - from the Cold War to the Iraq war, from the stolen generations to the asylum seekers, from Australian party politics to the culture wars. His two Quarterly Essays, In Denial and Sending them Home, are published here complete, as are controversial discussions of political correctness, pornography and euthanasia as well as gentler thoughts on childhood, the university and the Geelong Football Club. There is also an array of passionate and entertaining essays on subjects ranging from Geoffrey Blainey to Paul Keating, Helen Garner to George Orwell, Pauline Hanson to Noel Pearson.

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