Is It All Michael Cheika’s Fault?
As the Bledisloe Cup slipped from his grasp yet again on Saturday, despite a much-improved Wallaby performance, Michael Cheika’s critics will have a field day. But Cheika is by no means the first Wallaby coach to have trouble trying to beat the All Blacks on a regular basis. The list of those of his predecessors who failed to overcome similar problems is a long one.
It includes Eddie Jones, now reincarnated as England’s saviour, and our own Robbie Deans who – despite his success in producing a silk purse with Canterbury and the Crusaders – found he couldn’t make much from a Wallaby sow’s ear.
The list includes other good coaches – Greg Smith, John Connolly and Ewen McKenzie among them. So, should we (and the Aussies as well) moderate our criticism of Cheika, on the basis that he may be no better, but is certainly no worse than many of those who went before him?
We should first salute Cheika’s earlier successes with the Waratahs and Leinster, and his achievement in taking the Wallabies to the 2015 World Cup Final. But we are surely entitled as well to register that his performance as coach of the current Wallabies is disappointing, not just as shown by the statistics, but in the manner of it as well.
His selections have at times been hard to fathom, and – despite his reputation as a good motivator – he has sometimes seemed unable to get the best from his players. We have had little chance to judge his ability as a tactician, since his teams have often been so much behind the eight ball as to offer little clue as to what he, and they, were trying to do.
His personality, too, has sometimes seemed unattractively ill-suited to overcoming the odds. He seems more inclined to complain about ill-fortune (and referees) rather than overcoming it, and – as a consequence – he is less useful to his team than he could or should be.
But none of this fully explains the plight in which Australian rugby now finds itself – and Michael Cheika’s deficiencies or otherwise can only be a small part of the story.
Rugby, and the Wallabies, are having a hard time, especially by comparison with their trans-Tasman rivals, for more deep-seated reasons. Rugby in Australia faces powerful competition from other codes, and struggles – given the Aussie demand that their sportspeople should be winners – if the results are less than stellar.
And, unlike in New Zealand, rugby has not played a major part in shaping the national consciousness and identity, and has not served the vital and valuable purpose, as it has here, of bringing the races together. Nor has it, as it has for New Zealand, brought to international notice some of the strengths and virtues of the society that their rugby represents.
Whereas the All Blacks are instantly recognisable as manifestations and exemplars of what New Zealand is about, the Wallabies have a much less prominent image. There is something of the virtuous circle about New Zealand rugby; success produces prestige and prestige breeds success – and that is why New Zealand rugby enjoys the great advantage that many of our best athletes play rugby and that many of our best coaches and thinkers devote their talents to the game.
The difference is, in other words, that rugby occupies a place in New Zealand’s national life and culture that is not even remotely approached in Australia. And because Aussies are accustomed to such a high level of international sporting achievement across the board, their only occasionally high-performing national rugby team simply does not earn from them the respect and acclaim, either domestically or internationally, that the All Blacks have been able to treat as their birthright for more than a century – and that our Women’s World Cup holders are also now building for themselves.
While replacing the coach has not been overly successful in curing the lack of Australian rugby success, this should not mean that they should accept a coaching record from Michael Cheika that is spotty at best. If all the other problems (and there are many) are to be addressed, not least by appointing a more competent administration, there is then no reason why Michael Cheika, too, should not come under critical scrutiny.
Bryan Gould
26 August 2017
The Disintegration of Donald Trump
Donald Trump has such an outsize personality and dominating manner that it comes as a surprise to realise how fragile he is.
The answer to what seems to be a paradox lies in a single word – ego. Donald Trump is the embodiment of ego – he is ego made man. Much of his behaviour – according to psychologists – is conditioned by his experience in his formative years of trying to match up to the expectations of a dominating father. He seems to have spent much of his early adult life trying not only to impress his father but to insulate himself against his father’s potential disappointment and displeasure.
The consequence is that he built himself a sort of protective carapace – a self-obsessed assertion that he was, indeed, all that his father could have wished. The maintenance of that ego seems to remain his principal obsession.
The problem with an ego, however, is that it is so easily pricked or punctured. Even while it remains intact, it is a perilous guide to sensible behaviour, since it provides an often irrational imperative that is not immediately apparent to outside observers.
But it becomes truly dangerous as it deflates. Donald Trump now shows all the signs of someone who no longer knows – or has confidence in – who he is.
Many objective observers could have foreseen – and did – the scenario that is now unfolding. Here after all is someone who built a fortune and reputation as business tycoon and television personality, but whose experience equipped him not at all for the challenges of politics, diplomacy and government.
It was always on the cards that such a person would flounder – out of his depth and comfort zone – and that the ego that had hitherto sustained him would quickly become, as he trod water, not a lifebelt, but a dead weight.
What we have been witnessing is the disintegration of Donald Trump – not quite a Shakespearean tragedy, since his problem is more than just a fatal flaw, but is rather a total absence of the qualities and competencies that his role now requires of him.
The evidence that he has come to realise that he is simply not up to the job is pretty compelling. The fact that he would rather be anywhere than in Washington and the White House, and that he cannot get away often enough and quickly enough, is one such pointer to the truth.
Another is the frequency with which he returns to the scene of earlier triumphs – to the campaign-style rallies – and to the themes – the “fake media” and the supposed crimes of Hilary Clinton – that served him well.
The problem is that Trump’s personality type is one that is least able to withstand a loss of self-confidence. With the realisation that the job is beyond him, the Trump ego is punctured irretrievably. The Trump personality collapses – the hissing sound is almost audible – without the ego to sustain it.
And the further problem is that this takes place under an almost unprecedented glare of publicity. Each stage in this public decline does further damage to the Trump psyche and makes the next stage even more unavoidable.
The damage to the Trump ego is exacerbated by the fact that he has little by way of public affection and respect to draw on and to cushion the blow. There is no shortage of observers – and voters – who will treat his decline as a proper judgment, not just on his inadequacy as President but also on his deficiencies as a person.
Even if we could summon up some sympathy for his plight, the primary task is to find a solution to the problem that someone of such manifest frailty has his finger on the nuclear trigger – a situation described as “pretty damn scary” by former US intelligence chief, James Clapper. We cannot afford to run the risk that the US President might seek to re-establish his credentials as a hero by launching a nuclear war.
Trump himself may be so disturbed by what is happening that he is suffering a mental breakdown. Don’t his colleagues owe it to him and to us to help him to find the way out?
Bryan Gould
25 August 2017
Politics, As Well As Personality
As the election campaign gets into its stride, it is already apparent that the 2017 contest is going to be very different from its three predecessors in 2008, 2011 and 2014.
Those three earlier elections were all dominated by the personality of John Key – to such an extent that opposition parties despaired of their chances of overcoming what was seen as his virtually unique ability to appeal to uncommitted voters. The elections became mere popularity contests – the hard issues of politics hardly reared their heads, ugly or otherwise.
But 2017 is different. In place of the easy assurance and relaxed manner of John Key, Bill English presents a much more uptight and less confidence-inspiring image. He presents as a safe pair of hands, but there are times when he seems to be having to work very hard just to get that message across.
With the cameras on him, he struggles to seem relaxed. Even a simple statement seems to require every muscle in his face to work overtime – and not always in sync with each other – just to get the words out. And he seems unable to suppress an expression that suggests that he is enjoying a private joke at the expense of his interlocutor.
And that is not the only change from earlier elections. Labour leaders, from Helen Clark to Phil Goff to David Cunliffe, each had excellent qualities, but none was able to match Key’s capacity to take the politics out of politics. But 2017 offers the chance to a new Labour leader to change all that.
For the first time in a decade, in other words, the personality factor has at least been nullified and, at best, turned into a Labour advantage.
If the polls have it right, a fresh face and a different approach mean that Jacinda Arden may well lead quite decisively in the personality stakes, and that means that – for once – the election is not decided even before it has started.
This reversal of what had threatened to become the natural order means, in other words, that the 2017 election could become one in which politics – by which I mean principles and values as well as policies – really do matter. Jacinda Arden seems to understand that, however well received she has been for her personal qualities, it would be unwise for her to rely on that to carry her through to victory on polling day.
The very qualities which have so far intrigued and pleased the voters – her relative youth, her gender, the departure from the norm that she represents – will also mean that she is likely to come under greater scrutiny than a more conventional candidate for the Prime Ministership would expect.
That is not to say that she will not handle that scrutiny very well, as she has done so far. Her launch of the policy on water was well done and the policy itself was well-judged, combining as it did two issues on which voters are known to have strong views – the controversial concession to foreign companies of the right to obtain fresh water for free in order to bottle and sell it overseas, and the imperative need to clean up our rivers.
But policies – even those which make a particular appeal to particular groups of voters – do not, on the whole, win elections. What really does determine the way many people vote is whether they are happy with the way their country is going.
That is usually thought to mean, as Bill Clinton’s campaign of some years ago had it, “it’s the economy stupid.” – and of course the economy quite rightly matters. But the economy is about more than Gross Domestic Product. It’s also about full employment, opportunity, equality, and how well and on what we spend tax revenues.
It is here that Jacinda Arden has the chance to lay out a vision of an economy – and more importantly, a society – that is moving in a more socially and environmentally aware and responsible direction.
This is territory that is tailor-made for a young leader in tune with the hopes of those whose lives lie before them. If she can convincingly articulate a set of values which will guide her on issues yet to be confronted, she will have taken a huge step towards winning, not just on personality, but on the hard issues of politics as well.
Bryan Gould
20 August 2017
In the Name of God, Go!
As storm clouds gathered over Europe in 1938, Neville Chamberlain, the British Prime Minister, went to Munich where he believed that he had obtained undertakings from Hitler to the effect that Germany would not launch further attacks on its neighbours. He returned, brandishing the famous “scrap of paper” bearing Hitler’s signature, and proclaiming that there would be “peace in our time”.
Chamberlain argued that the Munich agreement justified his long-maintained opposition to rearmament; but, in a debate in September 1939, after Hitler had gone back on his word and invaded Poland, Chamberlain – reluctant to declare war on Germany – was opposed by many members of his own party and one Conservative MP, Leo Amery, called out to the deputy Labour leader as he rose to speak, “Speak for England!”
Chamberlain’s position was further weakened when, in 1940, the British suffered military disasters in the battles of Narvik as they tried to prevent the German invasion of Norway. The House of Commons responded to the debacle by debating a motion of no confidence in Chamberlain and his government.
Again, Leo Amery made a telling contribution, quoting to Chamberlain Oliver Cromwell’s famous rebuke to the Long Parliament, “You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing. Depart, I say, and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!”
Chamberlain could not survive the defeat he suffered, as many of his own party either abstained or voted against him. He was forced from office and was replaced by Winston Churchill – the rest, as they say, is history.
It is one of the great advantages of a Westminster-style constitution that a Prime Minister cannot remain in office if he loses the confidence of his colleagues in parliament. He can, therefore, be removed at any time. A decision to send him packing is an expression of the collective will of the House (and not just of a group of disaffected individuals) and will of course be reached only in the most extreme circumstances.
The American constitution offers no such possibility. A President’s occupation of the White House does not depend on the support of Congress (though it becomes very difficult to operate effectively without it) – so, what is to be done if a President, for reasons of personality, principle, policy or incompetence, loses the confidence of his colleagues, including those in his own party?
The need to provide an answer to that question is now becoming especially pressing and must be occupying the minds of many in Washington and beyond. President Trump’s problems – with Russian involvement in his election, with interfering with the processes of justice, with the nuclear war of words with North Korea, with his failure to condemn neo-Nazi White Supremacists – the list is growing longer day by day – now constitute an existential threat to his presidency.
The problem is that, unlike Chamberlain, Trump cannot be removed simply because his colleagues have lost confidence in him. If that were enough, the condition would be easily met. The evidence is now overwhelming that even his Republican friends in Congress and in the wider worlds of business and the maintenance of civil law and order are desperately concerned about where he is taking them – and the American people.
The USA’s leadership of the “free world” and its standing across the globe has been gravely compromised. The moral leadership expected of a President at home is sadly lacking. It is becoming increasingly clear that the US President lacks the personal, moral and intellectual competence and fortitude to discharge his responsibilities effectively.
But the US constitution provides only limited grounds for removing a President. He must commit an impeachable offence or he must be found mentally or physical incompetent. So, what to do?
The answer lies, whatever the limitations of the constitution, with the political intelligence and will of his Republican colleagues. They might not be able to vote him out of office but they can at least make it clear to him that they see him as a liability (as he is surely becoming) and that he cannot expect to achieve anything in office except a reputation as a loser and as an obstacle to good government.
They may not be able to use, in other words, an opportunity offered by the constitution. But the necessary words do not have to be uttered at the end of a parliamentary debate. Leo Amery can be emulated by a powerful deputation of senior politicians who can pick their moment. Uttered at the right moment and by the right people, the message will be just as clear – “In the name of God, go!”
Bryan Gould
17 August 2017
In the Name of God, Go!
As storm clouds gathered over Europe in 1938, Neville Chamberlain, the British Prime Minister, went to Munich where he believed that he had obtained undertakings from Hitler to the effect that Germany would not launch further attacks on its neighbours. He returned, brandishing the famous “scrap of paper” bearing Hitler’s signature, and proclaiming that there would be “peace in our time”.
Chamberlain argued that the Munich agreement justified his long-maintained opposition to rearmament; but, in a debate in September 1939, after Hitler had gone back on his word and invaded Poland, Chamberlain – reluctant to declare war on Germany – was opposed by many members of his own party and one Conservative MP, Leo Amery, called out to the deputy Labour leader as he rose to speak, “Speak for England!”
Chamberlain’s position was further weakened when, in 1940, the British suffered military disasters in the battles of Narvik as they tried to prevent the German invasion of Norway. The House of Commons responded to the debacle by debating a motion of no confidence in Chamberlain and his government.
Again, Leo Amery made a telling contribution, quoting to Chamberlain Oliver Cromwell’s famous rebuke to the Long Parliament, “You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing. Depart, I say, and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!”
Chamberlain could not survive the defeat he suffered, as many of his own party either abstained or voted against him. He was forced from office and was replaced by Winston Churchill – the rest, as they say, is history.
It is one of the great advantages of a Westminster-style constitution that a Prime Minister cannot remain in office if he loses the confidence of his colleagues in parliament. He can, therefore, be removed at any time. A decision to send him packing is an expression of the collective will of the House (and not just of a group of disaffected individuals) and will of course be reached only in the most extreme circumstances.
The American constitution offers no such possibility. A President’s occupation of the White House does not depend on the support of Congress (though it becomes very difficult to operate effectively without it) – so, what is to be done if a President, for reasons of personality, principle, policy or incompetence, loses the confidence of his colleagues, including those in his own party?
The need to provide an answer to that question is now becoming especially pressing and must be occupying the minds of many in Washington and beyond. President Trump’s problems – with Russian involvement in his election, with interfering with the processes of justice, with the nuclear war of words with North Korea, with his failure to condemn neo-Nazi White Supremacists – the list is growing longer day by day – now constitute an existential threat to his presidency.
The problem is that, unlike Chamberlain, Trump cannot be removed simply because his colleagues have lost confidence in him. If that were enough, the condition would be easily met. The evidence is now overwhelming that even his Republican friends in Congress and in the wider worlds of business and the maintenance of civil law and order are desperately concerned about where he is taking them – and the American people.
The USA’s leadership of the “free world” and its standing across the globe has been gravely compromised. The moral leadership expected of a President at home is sadly lacking. It is becoming increasingly clear that the US President lacks the personal, moral and intellectual competence and fortitude to discharge his responsibilities effectively.
But the US constitution provides only limited grounds for removing a President. He must commit an impeachable offence or he must be found mentally or physical incompetent. So, what to do?
The answer lies, whatever the limitations of the constitution, with the political intelligence and will of his Republican colleagues. They might not be able to vote him out of office but they can at least make it clear to him that they see him as a liability (as he is surely becoming) and that he cannot expect to achieve anything in office except a reputation as a loser and as an obstacle to good government.
They may not be able to use, in other words, an opportunity offered by the constitution. But the necessary words do not have to be uttered at the end of a parliamentary debate. Leo Amery can be emulated by a powerful deputation of senior politicians who can pick their moment. Uttered at the right moment and by the right people, the message will be just as clear – “In the name of God, go!”
Bryan Gould
17 August 2017