Hazel’s Journey

Sue Pieters-Hawke is the daughter of Bob and Hazel Hawke. She has just published a second book on her mother, Hazel – My Mother’s Story, which is a full biography of her mother’s  life and times. In 2004, Pieters-Hawke wrote the bestselling book Hazel’s Journey, about Hazel Hawke’s experience with Alzheimer’s disease. Sue Pieters-Hawke co-chairs the Federal Minister’s Dementia Advisory Group, an expert body advising the federal Minister for Mental health and Aging, Mark Butler, on Dementia in the context of significant proposed Aged Care Reform. To discuss her new book on Hazel Hawke, Sue Pieters Hawke addressed The Sydney Institute on Tuesday 14 February 2012.

HAZEL’S JOURNEY

SUE PIETERS HAWKE

It’s a pleasure to be here. You’re a famous Institute.

Writing this particular book was not my idea. And you would think, surely, that writing one book about one’s mother would be enough for anybody. Why would you do a second? But my publisher Pan Macmillan raised it with me and gave me the idea. I was intrigued, I must say. My first book on my mother Hazel Hawke, was very specifically the story of a journey with dementia. My aim was to cast light and to open up that subject. It wasn’t a biography, or a reflection on mum’s life as a whole.

But my publisher felt strongly that the whole story would be one worth telling. As I turned the idea over in my mind it would not go away? I found myself agreeing with him. Agreeing to write something is one thing, actually doing it quite another. The ensuing year and a half or so have been very intense. On the one hand, the work of creating a book, any book, is no walk in the park. But I added to that the bittersweet nature of intensively researching my mother’s life and doing that while she’s still here, with us, but lost to us in many ways as she lives with her advancing dementia.

It’s been a very intense and, at times, quite an emotional process. But, one with a happy ending, so to speak. I’ve emerged from the undertaking feeling re-inspired about Mum, about Hazel, all over again. There’s no doubt, if there ever was, that Mum’s life has been fascinating. Whether this book does her life and her legacy justice is for others to judge, but I can vouch for the story.

In it, we follow her from her happy childhood in pre-war Perth. This was a world that is no longer available to us, that doesn’t exist anymore. From that, through a very happy childhood and very engaged time with family, neighbourhood and church, through a jam-packed and busy time. She has always been busy, my mother. This was one of the things that became clear – such a busy life she had as a teenager and a young working woman. And then on to the life-altering romance with my father, Bob Hawke. Which is also where the script went off track to a fair degree from expectations that might have been.

My parents went to Oxford, to Canberra and then to Melbourne, as they established their partnership and their young family. We’re not so young now. These early years of her married life were, for her, exciting, rewarding, challenging and, sometimes, heartbreakingly difficult and lonely. But then, in the context of significant social upheaval, intense political events and the emergence of feminism, we can see the massive changes in growth that Mum experienced as she charted a course of reinventing her place in the world.

Mum liked her place in the world – she loved family life, homemaking, and she brought an enormous intelligence, motivation, humour and warmth to that. She didn’t feel anything against all of that. But for a long time she’d wanted more, which didn’t seem to be available. The emergence of feminism fitted very well as Hazel looked for something more. She wasn’t rejecting what she had, but trying to extend and embrace more. She chartered a course of reinvention, through her return to meaningful work. Through tertiary education, which she embarked upon at the age of 50. And through involvement in the world of community work and issues of social justice.

People sometimes think that Hazel, all of a sudden, was discovered, or invented herself, when Dad became Prime Minister. But nothing could be further from the truth. Everything I’ve just mentioned happened well before that time. But, once she became  our “first lady”, to borrow an Americanism, she did so with a vengeance. The story from that point on will have elements of familiarity to many of you.

For example, she worked incredibly hard during those Canberra years to contribute, albeit now on a larger scale, to so many facets of our life as a nation. Without ever setting out deliberately to do so, she became known, respected and indeed loved by many. She became, perhaps, the most activist interpreter we’ve yet seen of the nebulous role of spouse to the nation’s leader. She blazed her own trail as she travelled the country, speaking up wherever and whenever she could, for the things that she felt mattered. And, it’s a long list of the things she felt mattered. The more she learned and the more she was exposed to, the longer that list grew.

Foremost amongst the issues she worked hard for were choices for girls and for women. We forget how confined they were back then. Only 20- 25 years ago. Hazel promoted choices for girls and women, for them also in ways of protecting and nurturing and appreciating our environment. She did a lot with children, many issues around the young. She was concerned about the rights of our indigenous Australians, about promoting music and cultural expression and diversity and advocating fearlessly initiatives to protect, support and empower the needy and disadvantaged amongst us.

Hazel’s post-Canberra life has been equally rich. It included, of course, the well-published separation from my father following their move to Sydney. She overcame that little glitch, and went on to, yet again, to reinvent her life afresh. And, she was, as she said herself, going great-guns when the dementia started to make itself felt. Even so, she continued her feisty participation in life for years, despite the limitations that it did increasingly impose.

Hazel fought her debility. She was determined not to succumb to the disease that she famously dubbed “the big A” anymore than she could help. Her ambition was to continue enjoying her life, her work, her friends, her garden, her family, for as long as she possibly could. And, she was not at all reasonable about it, I can tell you.

In this she was a good illustration of how there’s something to be said at times for being unreasonable. Perhaps it’s just a matter of refusing to meet expectations that are in themselves unreasonable. Such as, you have dementia, you go quietly, you disappear. But, however it cut, she simply stubbornly refused to curtail her sense of who she was or what she was capable of doing, despite the very private anguish and frustration that she was also feeling at times.

I have tried, in the book, to create a vivid sense of the realities of my mother’s life. The people, the influences, the times, the morays, the attitudes, all that helped create and shape the person that she became. In addition, the wider experiences that she started to intersect with and, perhaps in some small ways, influence herself. In that sense, it can be read very much as a social history as well as a very personal one.

It’s a funny business. Life, just think about it: you’re born, you live, you die. It sounds very linear, but there’s nothing at all linear about a life. Any life is multi-dimensional and so much a matter of interpretation, view and emphasis. To try to shape that into something that fits between the covers of a book – has a beginning, and end and a decent narrative to it – is quite challenging. You find yourself, as you’re thinking and approaching it, reflecting on what might be some of the important narrative themes. Then they emerge and shape further as you write. They intersect with the material, the interviews and the source material you uncover. It would be interesting to see what some of you might think of the interesting narrative themes of the book, if you were to read it. But, let me mention two or three that stand out for me as being of importance.

The first and foremost is the changing role of women. Hazel recently turned 83. In the 80-odd years of her life, you could argue that the lives of women have changed more than at any other single 80 year period in history. It’s really quite stunning, when I look at the world my mother was born into and the world that her granddaughter confidently lives in now. It made me revisit my ideas about feminism and think it’s a pity that it’s become a dirty word. All it ever meant, if you strip away all the pejoratives and add-ons, is the proposition that one’s opportunity for education, for choice, for respect, for crafting a life of value and meaning and contribution; the choices that are available to you should be equally open to anybody and not curtailed or forbidden to people by virtue of gender.

The world that Hazel was born into was a very loving world, a very affectionate world, but it was a world of very tightly held boundaries. And not just about gender. There were all sorts of influences. I look at that in the book. It was a world of staying safe, of doing what was known, what was expected, of living in a world full of contribution. Mum wanted to go on to higher education and was told no, that wasn’t on. You go to work, you earn a living, you help support the family, and then the unspoken bit, that you meet a nice man, settle down somewhere nearby and have children and it all happens again.

Well, the nice man happened to be Bob Hawke and the script changed. Allied to that is the changing nature of marriage and families. What we expect of partnerships and institutions. What we think marriage and partnership is. What the attitudes, both conscious and unconscious, are that we bring to raising children. The future we speak of to them and for them, the values, what we think is important for our children to strive for. And, however families are configured, the simple stuff of who does what. All those sorts of things changed dramatically in the period of mother’s life. That’s one of the threads that does weave through my book on Hazel.

I had anticipated one of the narrative themes would be the changing lives of women. That was so personal for Mum. But, in looking at where my parents came from, each of them, I gained more. My mother grew up inside her neighbourhood and Congregational church, my father grew up inside what I like to call the twin churches – the Congregational church and the Labor Party. They came from a world where service, contribution, looking after your fellow man were keys. I remember once asking my grandfather, Dad’s father, who was a reverend in the Congregational church, what is it about the Congregational church, what’s different about them, what’s different from the Catholics or the Presbyterians, or whatever. I was a kid, but I wanted to know. He said, well darling, in the Congregational church you love God by loving your fellow man. It’s an answer that’s always struck me and stayed with me. It’s a heritage that my mother and father have displayed throughout their lives. Even as agnostics, that tradition has become a rich humanitarianism, in a sense, on both their parts.

I was about 16 months old when Dad moved to become the research officer and advocate for the ACTU in Melbourne. He went on to become its president before he went into federal politics. We grew up in a milieu of advocacy, of people working on behalf of others. Trade unions have also become a bit of a pejorative these days, but in the world that I grew up in unions were about people looking out for each other and trying to ensure decent conditions and lifestyles. About looking to see that their children could have better opportunities in life. As with feminism, it’s a pity the words have become a damaged product although I understand to some degree why. We take a lot for granted in the civilised world, such as universal access to education, no child allowed down the mines, all these sorts of things – they’re all things that organised labour has fought to establish at times along the way.

My book also looks at the cynical disregard in which so many of our politicians are held today. But I respect the fact that they put their hand up. What they’re doing is saying I care about this country. I think the decisions we make, the things we institute, the way we spend our taxes are about our values as a nation. I have a lot of respect for people who put their hands up for service and for leadership. It’s a terrible pity and degrades democracy that we’re automatically cynical rather than supportive.

I’ve had a life that has exposed me and inclined me towards respect for people who work in the political domain. As well as the serious and important issues, and some of the difficulties Mum encountered and we’ve encountered, I’ve also been very concerned to show in Hazel’s life an enormous amount of love and laughter in our family and with friends. We’ve been privileged to have had some fabulous experiences, and amazing opportunities for insight. I have shared a lot of these in these pages. I also talk a lot about Mum’s love of music; such an important thing in her life, from her early childhood through to now. It’s always been one of her greatest joys. If you asked her what her favourite thing in the world was, she’d say making music with other people. She loved it, that process of making music together.

Both my parents have a great sense of humour. Each very different and they tended not to laugh at each other’s jokes. But both have very robust ears for humour. They’re both a bit cheeky, and a bit irreverent. Both are glass half-full kinds of people. So having fun was definitely a feature of our family life. That and a lot that was not so funny. All pretty normal in a way.

Mum also believed in ghosts and would tell us kids, with no sense of embarrassment (but not when other people were around), about a couple that she’d seen. I have described the hilarious séance we once had for a bit of a lark upstairs in the attic of the lodge where we attempted to summon the ghost of John Curtin, who died there whilst in office. And who some suspect still haunts the place. But, if you want to know what advice he gave us you’ll have to read the book.

When people talk to me about Hazel Hawke’s legacy, they often refer to her courage in coming out about her dementia, and her determination to help fight stigma and to raise money for research. There is no doubt that she has contributed significantly to our understanding of dementia and our support for people living with it. But, she would be the first to say – it’s one of the cruel ironies of the disease that she can’t, isn’t it? – that we have a long way yet to go.

We are, in fact, at a critical crossroads in Australia in the context of the Productivity Commission report and various other things. We’ve got a chance to advance now desperately needed dementia reforms in the context of ongoing healthcare reform and impending aged care reform. It’s the opportunity, I believe, to implement a robust approach to research and risk-reduction, and to revolutionise our attitudes, our services and our care for people living with dementia, and their carers.

Dementia is one of those diseases; there’s much more of it than people know. It’s one of those diseases with a big multiplier effect, in terms of family and carers, its impacts. We need to be doing that now and for the future as numbers blow out. If this is an issue of interest to you I would urge you to take a look at the Fight Dementia website, set up by Alzheimer’s Australia. And, perhaps, to show that you care by registering as a dementia champion.

I’m enormously proud of Mum’s contribution in this field, no question about it. But, I would also make a plea here that it not be allowed to overshadow her wider legacy. As to what precisely that may be, there is, of course, no one answer. I explore it a bit towards the end of the book. I refer here to a friend’s comment that I have quoted. Prue Watson, who helped me run Mum’s office for many years said: “

She was a leader. And by leader, I mean that you inspire people to open up and to take on something that they wouldn’t normally take on. She used her position in office to contribute, and she did touch people in all the things that she was passionate about: women’s issues, education and Aboriginal issues, music, and all those things. She had an appeal across political boundaries. She was a leader in that sense of offering the humane way of seeing things, of appealing to people’s better judgements. Her ability to do that is her legacy, and her generosity of spirit and her humour. She was very much loved.

I felt that I should finish my book with a personal reflection on Mum’s legacy to me, or my sense of her legacy, and looking to what that wider legacy might be. I was grappling with it and I realised that her legacy to me personally and her wider legacy are surprisingly similar. There is, of course, an important difference for me, one of scale and of intimacy, but it’s not one of substance. She was my rock. Kind, loving and loyal, generous and feisty. She always supported and encouraged, yet she could also challenge quite vigorously. She would challenge us to be our better selves, she would demand, or cajole, whatever. She was the one who held our family together, who believed in us all when we were sometimes not so kind to each other.

Hazel’s quality was that of valuing positives over negatives, of seeing the best in people and in situations, of looking to see in practical ways what would make the difference, what could be done? Was it step in and wash the dishes, or was it pound the table? She had an immense quality to see what could be done, to pull something through to the best of what’s possible. She was never indifferent. She cared. And, I believe that the value, the importance of this kind of legacy is worth our attention more today, perhaps, than ever.

One of Hazel’s last big speeches, at Curtin University in her beloved Western Australia, had a main theme of what kind of country we wanted Australia to be? She spoke about the effects of economic policy on individuals as well as on society as a whole. She said notions such as acceptable levels of unemployment, the undeserving poor, zero tolerance. She spoke about the need for us to become a wise country, not just a clever one, saying:

In most human cultures over the ages, wisdom has been the most valued and respected of commodities, as embodied in the images of the wise woman or the good wizard, the sage tribal elder. People who are inclined and able to see their community as a whole, and to provide advice, leadership and support for the benefit of the whole community. But in our technological age, the notion of wisdom as a high virtue, has been usurped, to a very large degree, by the narrower, more sharp-edged concept of cleverness. What I’m trying to say here may be dismissed by some as irrelevant or warm and fuzzy, but that in itself might be seen as a symptom of the problem. There is actually nothing wrong with warm and fuzzy. It’s a jolly sight better than cold and abrasive. It is welcoming, it is inclusive and when it is built on a foundation of common sense and wisdom, it can also be sustainable. … Essentially what I am arguing for is to reassert the place of social policy alongside economic policy in national debate and national priorities and national and community values. We must look forward, we must seek, we must hope, but we must do this in a spirit of compassion and with a sense of inclusion. The whole of this nation, in all its diversity, must be on board.

Re-reading this speech, it resonated for me. These words from only 12 years ago are a timely reminder, given the nature of so much of current political discourse which often seems to blindly assert economic management as a value divorced from human outcomes. Too often, this spirit of compassion and sense of inclusion that Mum both advocated and, for many of us, embodied, seems so lacking much of the time.

But Hazel believed that the past is for learning from, not for clinging to. That change is not to be feared because it is, as she would say in one of her funny phrases, one of life’s inevitables. She showed that it’s up to us to deal intelligently with change, as we confront, openly and honestly, both the challenges and the opportunities in life. It’s up to us to treat each other with care and compassion, to look out for others as we care well for our own, and to take seriously the proposition of living well as a community. It’s simply up to us to turn our hearts and minds in that direction. And that, I believe, is Mum’s legacy and what she was all about.