Meagher, Tripodi, and friends

What is more, 1995 saw Bob Carr win the state government back for Labor. It was clear these two political collaborators, former lovers, fellow-graduates of the University of Sydney, were bound for cabinet sooner or later.

When, in 2001, Ngo was convicted of the murder of Newman, it was a measure of their standing in the party and the parliament that any guilt by association with him could not bring them down. Ngo, under whose roof and by whose aid their inexorable rise to power got its start: if he had been convicted in the twilight of Labor – say, anytime after the resignation of Michael Costa as treasurer – the stench of it would have been the lead story against them up to the days when they each resigned their posts.

It is funny to write this column about two people I once knew reasonably well. Meagher and Tripodi have only ever treated me civilly. I assume they (rightly) saw me as a lightweight in their world: no threat to any interest they cared about. But there is more to it than that. They are capable of being genuinely human – generous, curious, self-deprecating – whenever their main game is put on hold.

On the other hand, I have seen them absolutely monster people with no apparent care or shame. Listening to Meagher screaming into a microphone is very, very hard on the ears. I saw Tripodi one night setting out to break somebody (it failed: she went on to serve as a cabinet minister), using the sort of conversational tactics I am glad to say I have never used on anyone. To get ahead in their ALP, you have to be brutal with anyone who crosses you.

Ultimately, the party got brutal back on them. Both had become deeply unpopular in the electorate, their reputations synonymous with the machinations of a government that electors had come to see as too machinist. Meagher and Tripodi both resigned because they saw the writing on the wall: their party no longer had a use for them, because they reminded voters too much of what the party is like.

This is only partially a reflection on Meagher and Tripodi as individuals. That they can switch from engaging and considerate people into such demons is hardly unique to them. Nor is it unique to the Labor party. It is not even unique to NSW, although there are few genuine democracies in the world whose politics are more dominated by a culture of bullying. Meagher and Tripodi only made themselves into what they knew the system would reward.

The main point of the personal stories of Meagher and Tripodi is how accurately these two star-crossed comrades reflect the political machine that made them in its own image, then made their careers, then became a toy for them to control, and then ultimately discarded them when their careers began to fade.

I wish them each a future more happy and more personally rewarding.