TWO years ago Mark Brindal’s wife gave him as a Christmas present a copy of Bryce Courtenay’s book Matthew Flinders’ Cat. He settled down to read what he thought would be an historical account of the great navigator and his pet. Instead he found himself reading a tale of perversion, paedophilia and despair in contemporary Australia. A combination of the insights derived from that holiday reading and a devout Anglican faith came together last month when he successfully forced a hitherto reluctant government to hold what is virtually a Royal Commission into the sexual abuse of children who were wards of the State or in foster care.

The trigger was what he regarded as an “...appalling and outrageous” attack on the Church by the government that he says left him “furious”. At one level it offended his sense of the proper division between Church and State, believing that Ministers “had no right to pontificate on who should be an Archbishop”. But more compelling was a belief that it also amounted to rank hypocrisy.

“Behind almost every instance of child abuse in orphanages and juvenile detention centres like McNally stands the government, either directly through their administration, or by funding others,” he says. And he stresses that this is a long-standing problem with governments of both political persuasions needing to take their share of responsibility.

“Politicians”, he says,” should be careful if they choose to lecture the Church on morality and use words like ‘evil’. They better be sure that their own cupboard is bare.”

His success despite the barrage of derision directed against him, and demands that he “put up or shut up”, must rank as something of a victory for a politician who has, in the sense of the Chinese curse, lived through an interesting time of late. But then as politicians go, Mark Brindal is different. Some of his Liberal party colleagues might suggest that “eccentric”, or “maverick”, or simply “not a team player” would be more accurate descriptions. But what is clear is that he does not fit easily into the usual categories of liberal “wet” or “dry”, progressive or conservative.

In the schemata of Liberal Party factions he is, in fact, firmly part of the conservative Minchin camp, yet has twice introduced a private member’s bill to decriminalise prostitution and strongly supports the reform of the law in favour of same sex relationships. He says the stability of the party and its leadership is central to his philosophy as a “progressive conservative” in the Menzies tradition. Yet earlier this year he publicly agonised over whether he would remain in state politics or seek opportunities in Canberra, suggesting that he would discuss the matter with the Prime Minister. A conversation, one suspects, has yet to take place.

Then when Rob Kerin, partly in response to this apparent indecision, dropped him from the Shadow Cabinet, he produced a display of voluble indignation verging on petulance, and demanded that the party embrace him or lose him. Any idea his leader might have had of a reshuffle that helped make him look tough as well as avuncular quickly evaporated. Brindal followed up this episode with a newsletter to his electorate advising them that his recent “political difficulties” were “... forcing me to reassess my options for the future”.

Was this code, I asked, for “preselect me or I run as an independent”. Brindle did seek an immediate preselection contest after his shadow cabinet demise but agreed with Liberal party officials that it should wait until after the federal election.

He will contest that preselection, and says that he could see himself graciously accepting defeat by a good candidate, perhaps “a future Tom Playford”.

But if this does not arise? His answer is: “I am not going to walk away and get kicked out by a factional deal in Unley”. I think that we can take that as a ‘yes’.

Mark Brindal first entered Parliament in 1989, defeating Labor’s June Appleby in the now abolished seat of Hayward, then changed seats to defeat Kym Mayes in the 1993 Liberal landslide. With undisguised cynicism he says that as the seat has become safer in his hands, so too have his preselection woes intensified. Which may also explain his readiness to threaten potential challengers with the spectre of a well-entrenched (independent) incumbent should they be successful.

Brindle also says that they need only wait another six years. After 16 years, four as a Minister, he says he is looking for one more term, as he told his constituents in the recent newsletter, to represent them as a “liberal”, regardless of “the colour of the poster”.

Listening to Mark Brindal it is easy to believe that he is driven by a sense of Christian “mission” to see small-l liberalism triumph. Although looking at his career and peripatetic approach to politics the “mission” at times looks more akin to the mood and demeanour of a Jack Russell contemplating a warren.
He cultivates his eccentricities, from being photographed mowing his lawn in a suit and tie, to baking cakes for colleagues, and once for Governor Roma Mitchell, to writing long and introspective poetry, examples of which he gives me “to show your editor”. It’s a style that probably suits a community like Unley, but he is clearly not ready to retireto the backbench as a glorified suburban philosopher. And there’s no doubt that his removal from shadow cabinet still rankles. He says that his response to Rob Kerin at the time was “... tell me that I am not in your best 13 and I’ll go quietly”, but didn’t get an answer. Instead he believes that a “... spectacular” change was needed to satisfy media pressure, “a big fish on the plate” and unfortunately he was the special on the menu.

As for the Liberal Party, he believes it “stands at the crossroads”. It could either “crash and burn to rise phoenix-like from the ashes, pick itself up and make some gains, or it could dribble on into increasing mediocrity”. Whatever happens, he says that he is not content to sit back and let events take their course. But does he think that the government can be beaten? “The least performing, best PR government of my experience,” he answers, “banning the consumption of dogs and cats is the level of their achievement”. The Liberals can win, he argues, if they get across how little is really happening and “... get the media to question the government”.

I remind him that the Opposition has some role in all this and that from my experience government doesn’t just get handed to you. He agrees that they do need to “lift their game”, adding “it’s easy to be lulled into a comfort zone in Opposition”. Which may be true but it was certainly not something that afflicted Mike Rann et al when they had the job. At the moment Brindal and the Liberal party exist together in what he admits is “an uneasy truce”. It may be that his future depends on the fate of John Howard. If Howard loses later this year, it is easy to imagine party upheaval and a determination of the anti-Minchin group to wreak change at all levels. The Member for Unley may well suffer collateral damage. If that means preselection defeat by a factional nominee, then interesting times lay ahead.
Whatever happens, we can be fairly certain that Mark Brindal’s name will be on the ballot paper for the seat of Unley come March 2006.