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| Rantings and ravings of a possible troublemaker. |
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| At 38 years old, Will Hodgeman is both the bright young spark of the Tasmanian State Liberal team, and its leader. His boyish good looks and family man image gave him a huge personal vote at this year’s election. He has his detractors, of course. Mercury columnist Greg Barns has called him an “intellectual lightweight”, others have said he’s bland. Upon gaining the leadership Hodgeman committed that he and his deputy would be reasoned and mature voices in parliament. Now at his first Question Time in over a month, he stays true to his word, eschewing the taunts and interjections that are generally hurled across the chamber. Braddon Liberal MHA Brett Whiteley made no such promise. He sits forward, his long arms draped across the desk in front of him, hands clenched into fists. No less than seven interjections are recorded from Whiteley in the first half hour of question time - considerably less than he was actually responsible for. Other Liberal MPs including the Opposition Leader’s father, Michael Hodgman, add to the din. With such rowdy colleagues, the Opposition Leader’s “reasoned and mature” voice sounds like timidity, and his manner gives him the appearance of an eager schoolboy. As he jumps to his feet to signal that he wishes to ask a question, he really jumps. On more than one occasion he stands up with such force that he’s propelled briefly into the air, coming down behind his desk with a small thud, his eyes firmly on the Speaker. But while he may not have the delivery, he certainly has the material... “Premier, we have in our possession several e-mails from the general manager of Workplace Standards in 2004.” The emails are said to reveal that former Deputy Premier Bryan Green instructed Workplace Standards to withdraw from a Tasmanian Industrial Commission case. “One e-mail in particular states that the minister's adviser has asked Workplace Standards 'to contact Michael Field,” Hodgman continues. The allegation is clear: Bryan Green interfered with an industrial relations case to help out a former Labor premier. Mr Green has already been publicly humiliated for his role in granting a possibly illegal exclusive contract to two other former Labor ministers. His old seat next to the Premier is vacant, a silent reminder of his misdeeds, and he sits silently on the backbenches awaiting his leader’s response. “Mr Speaker,” the Premier starts in a soft and reasoned tone. “I am aware of the case to which the member refers. In fact I have brought that case to the attention of the Auditor-General... I do find it ironic, however, that the member asked me a question about protecting employees.” Here Mr Lennon shifts forward, and quickly raises his voice to a roar. “This is the member,” says the Premier, “who has rusted himself onto John Howard's ideological campaign to take away the living standards and rights of employees right across this State.” A predictable attack and one the Liberals should have been ready for, but it seems they are thrown. Hodgman breaks his cool to shout “what about the jobs that have been created?” This is a mistake - the focus has now shifted off the government and on to the opposition. Looking shocked and out of his depth, the Liberal Leader swivels around quickly to ask his dad for advice. | ||
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| It’s mid-morning by the time the members of the jury settle into their seats in the courtroom, more than an hour since they first arrived in the building. Watching them come in is Chief Justice Peter Underwood, a slender man engulfed by his flowing red robe. The curls of the white wig he wears contrast with his rather square, sharply featured face. He smiles as he offers an apology to the jury for their wait. “It wasn’t a good morning,” he says. Indeed it was not. Earlier, a man is led out of remand for sentencing, only to be sent back because his legal aid lawyer can not be found. In another case the lawyer for the defence is also absent. He, at least, has been seen in the building that morning. “Well that’s a good start,” says the Chief Justice, with only a hint of sarcasm. Sentencing in another matter is delayed until the afternoon, upon request of the Crown Prosecutor Kate Brown. By this stage the Chief Justice’s frustration is starting to show. He talks briefly about taking steps to avoid “jamming in” sentencing hearings on the same day as trial proceedings. “What happened to the arrangement I thought we made to have sentencing on a wednesday?” he asks. The Crown Prosecutor looks at her feet. “I’m not sure, your honour” she says softly. Finally it is time for the main matter of the morning, the Crown vs. Tarrant Nathan Harris. Mr Harris, 19, was celebrating his graduation from army training when he started drunkenly setting off marine flares. The first flare was a fizzer - it just managed to make it over the fence before burning out. Unperturbed, Mr Harris went to set off another. Holding the flare in one hand and a hatchet in the other, he struck the flare with the hatchet while his friend looked on, videoing the proceedings with his mobile phone. This flare worked perfectly. It crashed straight through his neighbours loungeroom window, setting the house ablaze. Just before the jury files in, the Crown Prosecutor asks about a matter of law central to the case. She stumbles through the question for over a minute. Did it have to be proved that the accused foresaw the actual damage, or just that he should have known the flare had the potential to cause damage? The Chief Justice, after patiently sitting through the question, indicates towards the latter, and adds that it such a reading is surely “just a matter of common sense”. Now that the jury is settled in and the first witness of the day is called, it does not get much better. A fire officer sits in the witness box as the court assistant hands to the jury photographs depicting the fire damage. Proceedings stop temporarily so that all involved may number each individual photo for ease of reference - a task, notes the Chief Justice, that “would normally be done by the Crown Prosecutor”. The Crown Prosecutor’s eyes once again shift temporarily to the floor. | ||
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| I've always thought Tasmanians to be anything but apathetic. I was six years old when the Franklin Dam was saved by hundreds of people being arrested in the wilderness and thousands more marching in the cities. A couple of years on I saw my first police van on a walk though Salamanca Market – my dad informed me it was to "put the poofters in". My youthful memory seems to recall the van becoming a fixture, until one day the politicians caved in and Tasmania not only legalised anal-sex but adopted the most progressive anti-discrimination laws in the country at the time. In 1998 the big issue was Labor and Liberal voting themselves a payrise of 40%. It was soon after this same two parties cut the number of seats in parliament without a referendum. Margaretta Pos, who recently retired from the Mercury after twenty years of reporting in Tasmania says "I think that was a huge mistake. I think, as a lot of people do, that the labor party and liberal party colluded to undermine the greens and lift the quota to make it impossible for them to get in." With fewer seats, candidates now had to gain around 18% of the vote to be elected, compared with around 12% prior to 1998. This was seen as a death knell for the Greens, as few thought their vote could rise to that level. Margaretta Pos says "They did so on the back of this populist idea that we're overgoverned and so therefore we'll have a smaller parliament – but it really was not about that at all" It's not the first time the numbers in the house have been changed by the sitting members after having trouble coping with cooperative government. Professor Richard Herr, of the UTAS Political Science faculty, points out that changes were made in the fifties to try and solve the problem of two parties finding a majority in a 30 member parliament. "30 members often would divide 15/15. In 1958 it was changed to 35 members so one party would have to win" Tasmania elects it's politicians with a system known as the Hare Clark system. Created in 1907, it was designed to give voters control over their vote. Rather than preference flows being decided through party deals, the system's muli-member electorates reflect as accurately as possible the political make-up of the voting public. Peter Hay, who was a Labor advisor during the years of the Labor – Green Accord, says the system was the best in the world until the cut in seats. "If I represent the views of one in ten people in the street, then it doesn't matter if I'm from the Flat Earth party – I deserve a seat in parliament. If that leads to a minority government so be it – history shows that minority governments are invariably better financial managers and more accountable than majority governments." It seems that the Hare Clark system is resilliant against political parties taking government. Prof Herr says "In the hare clark system you can easily shift between the parties and people do this regularly. For the candidates this is quite an uncomfortable system because they are competeing against their fellow party memebrs as well as their opponants. About 80% of any of the changes that occur in any election will be a candidate replacing another candidate of their own party." The changes in 1958 were about two parties trying to sort out a majority between themselves. Some say the 1998 changes were about them trying to keep it to themselves. "Until the Greens came along there wasn't really the diversity of opinion in Tasmania. People used elections as a referendum on who would form Government" says Prof. Herr Indeed it seems the move has made it more difficult for the major paties. Togatus went to print before the election was held, but Labor's grip on power has looked tenuous throughout the campaign. Prof. Herr says "If you look at the polls and the trends in the polls for the last year or so we'd be talking less about a hung parliament or a minority government simply because Labor would be more confident of holding on to a majority and also they would have less problems in filling the ministry". According to Professor Herr there there have been many problems had with a parliament "that's simply too small to be effective". Margaretta Pos says "The result of course was to their horror of course the Greens did win seats. More important for the Tasmanian people out of this is the fact that the Bueracracy became perhaps more important with an explosion of minders and advisors. This is because there's just no way that the small number of people in parliament and the smaller number of government people can actually get across everything they must do. It was a very detrimental thing for Tasmania." Peter Hay goes further, saying the issue with a burgeoning bueracracy is that it means a less democratic government. "You've got unelected bueracrats making decisions that are the domain of democratic parliament," he says. A mistake seems to have been made in 1998. Margaretta Pos points out that "if they were really serious about over-government perhaps it would have been better to have just one house of parliament or perhaps make cuts elsewhere but a 25 member house doesn't lead to good government unless we decide to get rid of the political parties and just have people as independants – and that's not going to happen." This is a mistake that has affected every portfolio, every aspect of State Government from hospitals to housing. Very few people saw this mistake coming, and in 1998 the voices of those that did could not be heard above the noise of the mob shouting for blood over the 40% pay rise. It is undoubted that we will hear noises made about scrapping Hare Clark so yet again the major parties can keep their majority government (no matter what the people think). I think Tasmania will show again that it cares, and will stand up to restore our government to one that is elected democratically and can govern properly. Simon Brown runs a state focussed current affairs show on Edge Radio 99.3 called Next Week, every Friday at 11am. The interviews above were conducted on this program over a number of weeks. | ||
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| News of Tim’s death spread quickly among his mates, but no one was sure of the cause. Was it a drug overdose or a night out gone wrong? Many had only seen his death notice in the paper, or a note pinned to the board of a drop-in centre in Hobart. Others had just heard from friends. Only Tim knew the truth. He wasn’t dead at all. Tim has died once of a drug overdose, once of suicide and once of (suspected) murder. At least that’s what his friends have thought. Louise, his partner of eight years, is getting used to the rumours of his demise. “You just don’t take any notice after a while,” she says. Tim’s face is sun worn and roughly shaved. HIs hair is wild and curly and features the occasional dreadlock but he keeps it tied back as neatly as he can. A strong chin and cheekbones combine with a welcoming, cheeky smile to make him quite an attractive man. He’s not big, but you imagine he could more than hold his own in a fight if required. Fading tattoos run down his arms, which are muscled from years working as a roadie and labourer. “I left home when I was about 14,” he says. This was just over a year after he moved to Hobart from Queensland. His parent’s work involved trips to Antarctica, so they moved their family to Fern Tree, a quiet, forested suburb half-way up Mount Wellington in Hobart’s west. It was soon after the move that he got the nickname that was to stay with him for life. His older brother had been called Bullwinkle, and from that "I got stung with Rocky”. He met Darren on the bus to school from Fern Tree. “My parents owned the Fern Tree pub,” says Darren. He saw in Tim “a like minded individual”. “We were both, well I wouldn’t say troublemakers...” Despite making new friends such as Darren, Tim was resentful that his parents’ moved him away from his Queensland mates. He thought his parents were too focussed on their jobs and new lifestyle and not focussed enough on their family. He left home. He says he “grew up a little bit on the streets and knew most of the people around town.” He attempted to keep himself in school, with varying success. “I was also just living those rebellious sort of days,” he says. “Nobody had control over me and I knew in my heart that it was only up to me whether I did or i didn't [go to school].” He worked before and after school at a cafe, but says it wasn’t necessarily just to fund his education.”I wasn't doing it sometimes for my books and my schoolbag but for a packet of cigarettes and a cask of wine.” He and his friends from the streets would go to the now closed Salvation Army Roadhouse for breakfast. There was a notice board there where people would put up notes mourning the death of friends. Several year’s later, he says, when his own death was rumoured, “thats where my name was put up”. After nearly two years living the life of a runaway teenager, Tim attempted suicide. “Did the silly thing of finding a rusty old cut-throat knife.” He’d been told by friends how to properly slit his wrists, “and i did it, lo and behold my whole wrist just openned up and I thought ‘well you've done it this time Tim’. I just walked up the hallway and went to bed not knowing whether I'd wake up or not.” A friend found him and he was rushed to hospital. The expereince was the beginning of a change in his attitude towards suicide. “I've pretty much been against it since [i was]17,” he says. The smile drops from his face as he stares into the distance. “And then people started, yeah, dropping like flies.” Tim says there are very few people he knew on the streets who have made it into their 30’s. “In my younger days a lot of my friends all commited suicide basically and yeah there's only a handful of us left around from when I was knocking around on the street that are still alive,” he says. “A lot have left wives or even wives have left husbands with children.” Tim says “ever since I was 15 or 16 I've pretty much had a good friend die every year of my life and there’s not a year goes by that someone doesn't pass away not because of ordinary deaths, yeah they've all either taken their own life or drug overdose or what not.” Tim says experience has taught him that if someone talks about suicide “grab them by both hands because they can be serious”. He worries about the casual attitude that some teenagers have towards taking their own life. “A lot of younger generation they can treat it without any respect,” he says. “People who cut their wrists and things, yep, they're crying out for help but there's also ones who don't really want to do it but they make the attempt and sometimes it's too late.” He says it’s all too easy for a suicide attempt to succeed, even if it is not intended to. “They try to hang themselves and they might not want to do it but they might actually slip off the stool and lo and behold it's too late for them too.” “There's lots of accidental deaths and there's ones that shouldn’t happen at all and a lot of the people that have passed away... it’s a great loss to every one around them not just themselves,” he says. Despite his strong stance against suicide, Tim doesn’t blame his friends for their actions. “[They] were trying but yeah, couldn't get over that hill, and decided to call it quits early.” Tim was in his mid-twenties and working as a roadie for a local production company when he met Louise through Darren. “I was friends with Samantha,” says Louise, “and Darren and Samantha started going out together.” Darren's parents had sold the tavern “and they were having their last night. Samantha invited me up there- basically that was where I met Tim.” Darren eleaborates: “Tim gets a bit of a twinkle in his eyes with the girls and the girls get a bit of a twinkle in their eyes with him. She saw him over at the bar there and - well from my perspective she pounced him! She might say they other way but all well.” A few years later Darren and Donna had a baby girl and they lost touch with Tim. By the time rumours of Tim’s death started circulating, Darren says “it would have had to have been three years”. “We used to see each other all the time before that,” says Darren. “I got pretty involved in my own life, when you've got kids there's plenty of things to keep you occupied. But yeah we hadn't spoken. I was a little bit narky that he hadn't met my daughter and that's possibly why.” Of the three separate rumours about his death, Tim puts the first and third down to “chinese whispers”. The first, his alleged suicide, angered him because of his strong stance on the subject. The most recent simply scared him. He was driving on the east coast of Tasmania when he got a phone call from a friend. They had heard Tim was found floating upside down in a river. “Was it murder?” he asks.“Was someone supposed to have put me there?” It was the the second of the three, however, that was the most remarkable both in terms of circumstance and the effect it had on Tim personally. Tim had moved into a house with Louise in Hobart, but was holidaying on the mainland and keeping his phone turned off most of the time. It was not long after he had left that a death notice bearing his name appeared in the Mercury, Hobart’s daily newspaper. A relative rang Louise to check whether it was her Tim. She said it wasn’t, and as far as his family was concerned, that was the end of the matter. For his friends though, it was only the beginning. In the same week notes appeared on the pin-boards of the Roadhouse, a drop-in centre in Hobart’s northern suburbs and the Link, a youth health centre in central Hobart. They all said the same thing: “Rest In Peace Rocky”. ”I had people knocking at the door, friends ringing other friends, friends ringing my parents, and while all the time I was on the mainland having a ball of a time,” says Tim. “The whole time I was away I had people upset, in tears, wondering what was going on and yes I was oblivious to it all.” The rumour gained strength, he says, because most people did not want to ring Louise in case they were the ones to break the news to her. “My parents hadn't seen me for a while, they weren't sure,” he says, “and some other friends didn't want go asking my parents because they didn't want to be the ones telling them.” One friend, Gary, says he waited more than a week to find out the truth. Tim had helped him move into a house in the small southern town of Dover a few days before his phone rang. It was his girlfriend - she’d heard secondhand that Tim had died. He was supposed to ring her back after she’d done some checking around to see if it was true. Problem was, Gary couldn’t ring back. He was stuck on the outskirts of a country town with no petrol and no phone credit. It was only when his Centrelink payment arrived that he could drive to a friend’s place to use the phone. It was about this time that Darren heard the news. The rumour had made it to the Cascade Brewery in the foothills of Mount Wellington. The workers there knew them both from their time in Fern Tree. Darren says, “I heard from the Cascade brewery network that Tim had passed away. I just went into ‘oh shit’ mode. 'Oh shit’. It was instantly devestating.” A week later Tim got back from his trip and heard the stories. Slowly he pieced the puzzle together. Two people had died, one with the same name and another with the same nickname. “As far as I know there's been a few other Rockys around Tasmania,” he says. “One out at Glenorchy, had passed away.” He was around the same age as Tim. Tim was disappointed at suggestions he had overdosed. “The drugs they said, I don’t do them” he says. He says the whole experience has been bizarre. “Being told you've died and sort of nearly seeing your own death, it's a pretty funny feeling being the walking dead,” he says. “People come up to you in town and say ‘I thought you were dead’ and you're standing right there in front of them. I’m not sure who's shell shocked more, me or them.” Darren had been too distressed to rely on the rumour. “I had to believe it for myself,” he said. “It didn't take much checking out - just a ring to miss Louise.” The day after Tim arrived back, Darren and Samantha went to see him. Darren says the shock of the whole affair convinced him to put aside any ill feelings he may have had. “There's no point wasting time,” he says. “Get on with it and have some fun.” Tim says when he saw Darren and Samantha there were “hugs and kisses all around”. “There he is standing at my front door, I hadn't seen him for 3 years and it took that to get us back together,” he says. “I've been happy to have him back in my life and it brought that to do it.” Tim says the experience has changed his perspective. “It has changed my thinking a bit,” he says. “There's a lot more too this life, don't leave it all too late.” “I’m in at life for the long run and I'm going to make a hell of a time while I'm here and speak to the big feller upstairs when I get there.” *People’s names have been changed in this article at their request. | ||
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| "He's here for you". I knew immediately - “he” was Harold. No-one ever came to visit us at such an early hour. It was a busy place, with seven of us living in an ex-primary school halfway up Mount Wellington. Visitors before 8am were, however, unheard of in this particular hippy haven. I knew it was Harold because days before he’d served a Tasmanian Supreme Court writ on one of my housemates. Gunns Ltd were the plaintiff and I was named as a defendant, so I knew it was only a matter of time before the man returned to find me at home. This was all more than 18 months before writs were issued on the "Gunns 20". I was ready for the moment, in a media nerd kind of way. As I struggled out of bed I scooped up my video camera, which I'd carefully recharged and cued so I could grab it and record the vital moment. As it happened the moment was very uneventful. "Oh I'm on camera am I?" Harold said, unperturbed. "Oh well, here you are then. Sorry about this, terrible thing." Terrible thing indeed. No statement of claim was attached, but the writ announced that Gunns were claiming for damages arising from a protest action at the Triabunna woodchip mill earlier in 2003. All seven defendants had previously been charged for the action. We'd all pleaded guilty and copped the $1000 fine, thinking that would be the end of it. Gunns obviously thought otherwise. We made an appointment with a local lawyer known to be sympathetic to the cause. He helpfully talked us through the initial paperwork necessary for us to contest the claim, gave us some careful advice on dealing with the media while avoiding comtempt of court, outlined what bankruptcy meant and wished us good luck. As a group of dedicated activists, we’d been itching to tell the media. Taking into account the legal advice (“try not to say anything at all”), we decided on a media plan. First we faxed a copy of the writ to local media organisations. Then, we let it be known that a couple of us would be filing the necessary paperwork to contest the claim at Dobson, Mitchell and Allport (Gunns’ lawyers for the action), corner of Harrington and Davey. What already seemed like a surreal day became moreso as Sally and I donned furry quoll suits for the occasion. Complete with sunglasses, suitcases and Stetsons, we stepped out of Sally’s ute in full legal marsupial style, ready to face the media and the law. “The media” was acutally just a guy with a video camera. Just before leaving to do the stunt I quickly rang around to see which media organisations to expect. To my surprise almost no-one wanted the story. “I’m just not sure I’m legally allowed to report it” said the journalist from the Mercury. In the end Southern Cross was the only media organisation to report the writ. They ran a short story featuring our quoll alter-egos walking into the lawyers office, accompanied by a careful voice-over in legalese. The whole story ran just under ten seconds. For months we heard no more about the case, but every day I wondered just what was going to happen. Flash forward eighteen months. Late in the morning of 14 December 2004 I’m rung and told that a writ from Gunns Ltd has been served on someone and my name is on it. Again. This time, though, the Wilderness Society was on it too, and with big name talent like Bob Brown involved there was nothing that would get in the way of the story. News of the case broke Australia-wide within hours. The Wilderness Society called a snap rally for the next day to support the defendants (someone had already named us the Gunns 20 - perhaps because it was still well before the Bali Nine). Hundreds of supporters turned up, and cheered as the names of the defendants were read out one by one. Those of us present stepped forward to have our mouths taped shut. Written across the tape was “Gunns” in bold letters. The image has become synonymous with the case, but I remember feeling rather silly as it was happening. Flanked by people I hardly knew, stepping up to applause not for my achievements but because Gunns had launched (another) legal action, I was bewildered at the fuss. After all - it was not the first time. The day was mostly spent dealing with the shock and excitement of my friends and acquaintances. They thought the whole thing was exciting, that I must somehow be pleased to be in on it, that the case would backfire and we would emerge victorious. My experience with my first lawsuit did not incline me to such a view. Over time I’ve found myself being quiet when questioned about the case, gently changing the subject as people rant on about how fabulous it all must be. As someone with few personal possessions bankruptcy hadn’t really scared me until I found out that I couldn’t leave the country - I’d have to surrender my passport for seven years. I have to point out here that the support for the defendants has been amazing. It’s of course fantastic that lots of people have given generously to the legal fund, as without that support the costs involved would be so mammoth as to squash what little energy we have to fight the thing. More than this though, it is heartening to see support for us every day on the cars of people I don’t know. The contrast between the two writs has been huge, and not just in terms of profile. This time the writ was served in the Victorian Supreme Court and some defendants , including myself, were found representation through the Public Interest Law Clearing House, an organisation funded by the Bar in Victoria. Costs in the first case were minimal - simply because nothing happened. Most of the Gunns 20 defendants are already facing huge legal bills from the proceedings thus far. These proceedings have been a test of patience. The case, another eighteen months later, is still in the first stage - the initial strike out hearings. Before these hearings, the plaintiff produces a statement of claim. Then, in front of the judge, the defence argues for part or all of the claim to be struck out. The plaintiff argues otherwise. The judge usually makes a decision later, often weeks after the hearing. If the claim is struck out, the plaintiff goes away, redrafts the thing and resubmits it to the court. This whole process has happened twice so far. This latest (third) round of hearings, held from the 9th-14th March, also served as the final chapter in my first lawsuit. Another suit was brought to the attention of the judge, this one against Greenpeace protesters who did a remarkably similar action as ours, against the same woodchip mill but a year later. One of the defendants in this writ was Ben Morrow, 13th defendant in the Gunns 20. The point was carefully made by Ben’s lawyer Mr Murdoch: Your Honour, I am not suggesting, Your Honour, that there is a current abuse of process in existence. There would be, if I could establish that this writ was in fact alive and because it does relate to the same matters that are alleged against Mr Morrow in this case but it illustrates eloquently, Your Honour, the fact that the plaintiffs could have taken action against Mr Morrow or others in the appropriate jurisdiction without enmeshing them in this action. Lawyer for the plaintiffs, Mr Howells, was taken by surprise. HIS HONOUR: Mr Howells, do you know anything about this action at all? MR HOWELLS: No, Your Honour. We're getting some instructions about it. We weren't given notice of this in the outline but we will get some instructions. Later that same day my first writ was also handed to the judge by Mr Gronow, my lawyer. That was on the Friday. Returning on the Tuesday after the March long weekend, Mr Howells announced steps had been taken to end the matter. MR HOWELLS: ...I am instructed that it was understood by our client that they had given instructions for the withdrawal of the matter generally. HIS HONOUR: But that hasn't been done. MR HOWELLS: Because of a change of solicitors, that hadn't been done but it has been done this morning, I am instructed, Your Honour, and we will of course provide to the court if we might have 24 hours, a copy of the discontinuance. And so they had. A check at the Supreme Court later that day revealed that, indeed, the matter had been withdrawn that morning. The judge was happy to move on. HIS HONOUR: Well everyone's heard what you've said and probably nothing more will happen, but if somebody wants to raise it they can. I'll simply mark that bundle of Tasmanian court documents, I'll just mark them A for the sake of identification. #EXHIBIT A - Bundle of Tasmanian court documents. So that A consists of a bundle of documents being a copy of a writ directed, a writ in Action No. 251 of 2003 in the Supreme Court of Tasmania, an interlocutory judgement in that action, that proceeding, and copies of writs in Action No.178 of 2004 in the Supreme Court of Tasmania. And thus my first lawsuit ends its life - as the first exhibit in my second lawsuit. Certainly I’m thankful that the first case has been withdrawn, if only for the other six defendants who now no longer have the matter hanging over their heads. During these most recent proceedings it was stated by the defence that it was “almost irresistible” to make the inference that “at least a significant number of the components of this litigation are not really directed to vindicating rights but to warning off individuals who might be inclined to protest against the activities of Gunns.” (Julian Burnside QC, 14/03/06) Since this statement protests in the southern forests have intensified and the campaign against the pulp mill has gained momentum. In recent times we’ve seen letters of condemnation written by groups of overseas lawyers and laws drafted aimed at stopping such a suit happening again. I believe it’s vital that anyone considering protest action not be deterred, even if they do interpret the case as being a “warning”. To me it’s just a pain in the arse. | ||
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| The view from Ralph’s Bay is peaceful. The water is flat and still, sheltered by Droughty Point which also mercifully blocks any view of Sandy Bay’s phallic Wrest Point Casino. From here all you can see of Hobart are the bush-framed houses of Taroona and the mighty cliffs and forests of Mount Wellington. Look up and you see the white underbellies of pied oystercatchers flapping their shiny black wings, their long curved beaks pointing into the gentle breeze. Look closer, though, and the scene is far less idyllic. On the beach shells and pebbles mingle with chip packets and plastic bags. Environmental weeds grow amongst native plants in the thin line of vegetation that separates the beach from the highway. In a state that is famed for its natural beauty, with iconic coastal areas such as Freycinet and the Tasman Peninsula, Ralph’s Bay would would not normally rate a mention. The Tasmanian Greens and local conservation groups might not be expected to be that fussed over what happens to such a degraded area while the long running fight to stop the logging of old growth forests continues. In recent times, though, “Save Ralph’s Bay” has become a catch-cry for locals angry at a proposal for 500 waterfront properties and a marina to be built in the bay on 46ha of artificial “islands”. Many of the locals may be mostly interested in preserving the view across the bay. However the greatest threat to the development comes not from the residents of surrounding houses shouting “not in my backyard” but from a group of much quieter residents living underneath the glistening water. Spotted handfish, according to the CSIRO, are Australia’s first endangered marine fish, and they live only in the Derwent River and surrounding estuaries. A little over a month ago the male spotted handfish would have been courting his mate, trying to impress her by raising and lowering his mowhawk-like dorsal fin. Once courted, the female generally spawns her eggs around a sea squirt (a jelly like invertebrate) to anchor them to the river bed, and she stands guard until they hatch nearly two months later. The hatchlings are less than a centimetre long. Two years later they’ve grown to just seven centimetres. The largest of the species ever recorded was 13cm long. An array of black spots on a gold and white background cover the handfish’s pear-shaped body. No two of the species have the same markings, which means CSIRO researchers are able to track the movements of individual fish. What’s been found is that they generally do not move far from where they hatch. This may be because, unlike most fish, the spotted handfish prefer to walk. Their name derives from their spiny hand-like fins which they use to waddle around the floor of the river. Yes, they can swim, but they are not in a hurry to get anywhere, really, and spend their lives slowly walking about the depths of the Derwent feeding on shrimp and amphipods. No-one is quite sure why the species’ numbers have dropped so dramatically. Up until the 1980’s the fish was regularly seen around Hobart’s waterways. Numbers steadily declined, and between 1990 and 1994 only two reliable sightings were reported. One theory is that they are being displaced by the northern pacific seastar, a feral pest which feeds on the sea squirt. Spotted handfish do not cope well with disturbance of the riverbed, which is why some people are concerned that building large islands in their habitat may further reduce their numbers. Recently Federal Environment Minister Ian Campbell asked his department to consider whether the spotted handfish should be regarded as “critically endangered”. If they decide it should, then he may rule that the Walker Corporation must take its development elsewhere and leave this bizarre, rare fish in peace. | ||
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| I wonder... | ||
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