Tony Abbott's Obsession with Peta Credlin Behind His Downfall
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Tony Abbott’s obsession with Peta Credlin behind his downfall THE AUSTRALIAN MARCH 5, 2016 12:00AM Niki Savva Opinion columnist Canberra A month before he was toppled by Malcolm Turnbull, Tony Abbott received an alert from an unusual quarter. The deputy leader of the National Party, Barnaby Joyce, left the early-morning leadership group meeting that was held every sitting day in the prime minister’s office to walk with Abbott to a function in the Great Hall. As they made their way, Joyce told the prime minister he would face a challenge from Turnbull around the time of the Canning by-election. It was August 2015. Like others, Joyce could see the signs: unusual groupings at dinner, which Joyce later likened to springing people out and about with their mistresses; a few embarrassed looks; odd expressions here and there. As an old boy of St Ignatius’ College, Riverview, Joyce was still well- plugged into the Sydney scene, picking up on the vibe and gossip about Abbott. He was also hearing things from contacts close to NSW federal Liberals. Joyce could read the polls, too, and as he would later say, you didn’t have to be Sigmund Freud to understand their deeper meaning. Abbott’s leadership was terminal. Joyce had been very close to Abbott, but there had been a serious falling out, triggered by a number of factors. Joyce had quietly stood aside as shadow finance minister when Abbott as opposition leader came under pressure to dump him. When the Nationals’ leader, Warren Truss, fell seriously ill towards the end of 2014, Joyce read reports that the prime minister wanted Truss to stay on because he feared instability would engulf the Coalition if Joyce were to become leader. Joyce was infuriated by those reports but stayed silent publicly. He was convinced they were sourced from deep inside the prime minister’s office. Joyce made no secret of his displeasure at Abbott’s delegation of power to his chief of staff, Peta Credlin. In his typically wildly funny, wildly politically incorrect, irreverent way, he would joke privately about the eunuchs being in charge. Pretty soon, Joyce could find little to laugh about. In July 2015, when the government approved the $1.2 billion Shenhua coalmine on the Liverpool Plains in his electorate, Joyce snapped, declaring the world had gone mad. Not long after that, Joyce concluded Abbott would not recover and that the prime minister should think seriously about stepping down. Nevertheless, when he suspected there were moves afoot to unseat the prime minister, he thought he owed it to him — because Joyce had always seen Abbott as an incredibly kind man, even though his first duty was to protect his own leader, Truss — to warn him. Abbott neither responded to Joyce’s warning nor engaged with him about it. He simply changed the subject. Despite that, Joyce felt good about having done what he thought was the right thing. There was something else Joyce was girding himself to do if Christmas came around and Abbott was still limping along in the job, with the opinion polls where he expected them to be. He was going to tell Abbott he should do the decent thing and step down as prime minister. Unlike Abbott’s Liberal cabinet colleagues, Joyce firmly believed that, in these circumstances, Abbott would accept it was beyond him to recover and that he would quit. He did not think Abbott was the kind of man who would stay on to drive them all over a cliff, which is what they thought would inevitably happen if Abbott remained in the job. Joyce would have had the guts to do it, too. He thought that would have been a more fitting end to Abbott’s rule than to be voted out by his colleagues. Whether Joyce’s confidence in what Abbott would do was well placed was another matter entirely. There were so many warnings, so much advice from so many people to Abbott, at so many different times, on so many different issues. He ignored them all. He did not listen to Julie Bishop, Joe Hockey and Christopher Pyne when they told him immediately after the election to appoint more women to cabinet. He did not listen to Peter Dutton when he told him to kill off the Medicare co-payment, nor later when he urged him to remove Hockey from Treasury so he could appoint Malcolm Turnbull to the job. He did not listen to John Howard when he told him not to reintroduce knights and dames, when he warned him about delegating too much of his authority to his chief of staff, and similarly when he advised him to appoint Turnbull as treasurer. In fact, Abbott ignored every significant piece of advice that Howard gave him. Abbott particularly refused to take the advice regarding his chief of staff, including from his friends, people who had been through the wars with him, who believed his relationship with Credlin was destroying his prime ministership. Connie Fierravanti-Wells had always been able to speak frankly with Abbott. They went back a long way, having first met in 1990 when they were both staffers in opposition. She also ran against Abbott as a candidate for preselection for Warringah in 1994, but still thinks that Abbott was the best candidate on the day. She was there when he rang his wife, Margie, to tell her he had won endorsement, urging her to come down and bring the girls with her. Connie remained true to the leader, but she was not blind to his faults. In early 2015, she could see the damage that was being inflicted on Abbott inside the parliamentary party. Even her own loyalty had been severely tested. There was briefing going on against her before the 2013 election, which she sourced back to Abbott’s office. After the election, she did not make it into the ministry; rather, she was appointed parliamentary secretary to the minister for social services, despite her hard work on aged care and mental health policy, and despite the fact there was a crying need for more women in the cabinet — especially after fellow conservative Sophie Mirabella was defeated. She was disappointed she didn’t make it. Nevertheless, she didn’t make a fuss and worked hard, hoping for promotion later. As the senior conservative from NSW, she represented the views of many of Abbott’s base who did not want to see him ousted. Late on the night before the spill motion against him in February 2015, she visited him in his office, a bit after 10pm. She was brutally frank with him, raising something few people would dare broach but which only a woman who had known him a long time could, while hoping he would appreciate she had his best interests at heart. She believed he needed to hear, unfiltered, exactly what his colleagues were really thinking. In their view, he had to remove his chief of staff because they blamed her for many of the government’s problems and they resented her treatment of them. This was not only about the abuse she heaped on them, but the fact he had closed himself off from them — a separation they blamed on Credlin. Connie told him, without mincing words, that they were prepared to take it out on him because they did not like her. She told him it was important that he get rid of her because politics was not only about what was real. ‘‘Politics is about perceptions,’’ she told him. ‘‘Rightly or wrongly, the perception is that you are sleeping with your chief of staff. That’s the perception, and you need to deal with it.’’ She told him she was speaking on behalf of many people in the NSW division who cared for him, who did not want him to lose his prime ministership. She warned him that if he did not move her on, he would lose his prime ministership. ‘‘I am here because I care about you, and I care about your family, and I feel I need to tell you the truth, the brutal truth. This is what your colleagues really think,’’ she said to him. Abbott told her he wasn’t going to move Credlin on. He said the rumours they were having an affair were not true. Abbott did not get angry when Connie confronted him about this most sensitive of matters. He did not remonstrate or raise his voice. He simply, calmly, denied it. Within two days after she had spoken to Abbott, after the vote that mortally wounded the prime minister, Credlin visited Connie in her office, a typical backbencher’s room made warmly personal by the display of family knick-knacks, including beautifully intricate doilies handmade by her Italian grandmother. They talked for an hour and a half. Connie was equally frank with Credlin, telling her she had to go. She also told Credlin about the rumours — that colleagues believed she and Abbott were having an affair. Credlin also denied it, saying it wasn’t true, that they were not having a relationship. Connie told Credlin that, for Abbott’s sake, she should go. Credlin said she believed she was vitally important to Tony, that without her he would not be able to do his job. She believed Tony’s enemies were trying to get to him through her. Credlin gave no hint that she had even thought about going, not even for a moment. Connie was troubled because she remained convinced this would result in an extremely unhappy ending for Abbott.