When I was just a kid, yes, a 16-year-old naive kid, Echuca’s Riverine Herald took me on as a cadet journalist and I suddenly found myself adrift in the adult world.
From fooling about on my bike, mucking about with old motorbikes and go-karts, lazy days in the Murray River, wandering about the bush with my dad and doing jobs kids can no longer do, I suddenly found myself sitting through often day-long council meetings listening to old men (I don’t remember any women) arguing about what, I thought, were pointless matters.
The then editor and the one senior reporter appeared eager, almost desperate I’d say, to hand over to me the responsibility of covering the municipal councils at Rochester, Mathoura, Deakin Shire at Tongala and, finally, after I had experience of those perceived lesser councils, I became a regular at Echuca council meetings.
Getting to council meetings in Echuca was no issue, as I could walk, but when it came to the out-of-town meetings it was a little more challenging, as I was still two years away from driving.
Sometimes it was a taxi, for others I would be given a lift to and from the meeting by a councillor, and it was mostly a train to Rochester, before getting a lift home.
Council meetings in the 1960s, that’s a long time ago, were decidedly different than those we see today, with the modern-day rigidity and formalities largely missing.
Meetings from the ’60s often went for six hours or longer — they were somewhat laissez-faire compared to today’s disciplined events and it was not uncommon to see the councillors, often older retired men, nod off.
Were those meetings better or worse? In many ways worse, of course, but I always enjoyed the spontaneity of the process that allowed councillors to raise, without notice, an issue troubling a ratepayer.
As for better, I always enjoyed the lunches, often at a nearby pub.
Having sat through council meetings while with this newspaper, in Tatura, Numurkah and Benalla, it seemed, or it felt to me, as if I had seen and heard all the unusual and unexpected machinations of what could happen in a council chamber.
But something new, something that surprised me, emerged at a recent special meeting of Greater Shepparton City Council.
Cr Seema Abdullah, with the support of councillors Sam Spinks and Dinny Adem, initiated the calling of a special meeting to discuss — and had moved the appropriate motion that would see the council write to the Federal Government urging it to act decisively and do what it could to end — the conflict in Gaza.
All three spoke passionately in support of the motion and the remaining five councillors at the meeting, including Cr Geoff Dobson, who attended virtually, also spoke to the motion, vigorously opposing the idea. Cr Greg James wasn’t at the meeting.
Councillors Dobson, Shane Sali, Fern Summer and Anthony Brophy all opposed the motion and along with speaking passionately against the proposal declared they would abstain from voting.
Except for Cr Ben Ladson, who also abstained but offered a prayer.
Many meetings passed my gaze when one or maybe two councillors had abstained from voting, but never had I seen that impact on the outcome of any motion.
And so with three clearly in favour and the remaining five all declaring their intention to abstain from voting, I imagined they had dealt themselves out of the debate, and it was game over — the motion had passed.
How wrong I was, for under local government rules a councillor’s decision to abstain from the vote is effectively a ‘no’ vote and so the motion was lost. It’s about adherence to the status quo.
Maybe I’m just a simple man, but if a councillor declares his or her intent to abstain from the vote then they should metaphorically leave the room and ultimately the decision be left to those prepared to state their case, nail their colours to the mast, you might say.
I guess, however, that if a councillor decides to abstain from the vote, and effectively vote ‘no’, they have, in a de facto sense, nailed their colours to the mast.
This abstention, but in fact voting ‘no’, defies my logic, and it smacks of having your say when you are not saying anything — Yes Minister is a long-gone British satire about the perverse machinations of politics, but new episodes continue being written, it seems, in council chambers everywhere, including at a recent special meeting of Greater Shepparton City Council.
Robert McLean is a former editor of The News.