Neville Wran's 'Premier State': a state of corruption. A book review.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

- John 1:1-5

He was raised Lutheran, but his church in St Ives, some twenty kilometres north of downtown Sydney, is Anglican. He battled to do right, when some around him did not.

In the early 1980s, when the reek of corruption claims concerning NSW police, illegal gambling dens, organised crime, prostitution rings and political fixes sat heavy in the air, it seemed like NSW Labor Premier Neville Wran's hold on power would soon unravel.

This man could have ignored the noxious smells all around him. With a wink and a nod he could have delivered the judicial favours asked of him by other officers of the courts and for that, he would. in this life at least, been richly rewarded.

But that is not then man he was. Nor I suspect, the man he is.

His name is Clarence (Clarrie) Briese and he was once the NSW Chief Magistrate. Then and now, he was guided by his conscience and by his faith. He was then, and, it seems, remains now, at almost 91 years of age, a Christian.

For those of us attending university in the 1980s and studying arts, economics or law, mention today of the "Murphy Affair" certainly rings a few bells. Mostly muffled. Like many economics undergraduates at the time, my compass on the news pointed towards the floating of the Australian dollar (1983), on Australia II winning the America's Cup off Newport, Rhode Island (1983), on the inquest into the execution of anti-drug campaign Donald Mackay (1984) and on the introduction of the Fringe Benefits Tax (1986).

What seemed like accusations of conspiracies and the like didn't register so much with us finance majors. That said, I recall every now and then reading something about improper behaviour by a former Whitlam government Attorney-General, Lionel Murphy, as well as hearing whispers about who knew what and when, including the role played by another former Whitlam minister, James ("Diamond Jim") McClelland. I recall very little else about what was to become the "Murphy Affair".

How timely, then, that during the latest Sydney Lockdown, when downtime is synonymous with the opportunity to denude one's bedside table of recently released purchases, I came across a paperback that not only reveals a very significant episode that took place between 1979 and 1986 in the "Premier State" (as Wran called it), but does so in a considered, detailed, analytical and bona fide manner, penned by a person right smack bang in the middle of this tumultuous judicial cyclone: Chief Magistrate, Clarrie Briese.

The thrust of the book reveals and expands on how High Court judge Lionel Murphy and NSW District Court judge John Foord approached (although it sounds more like bullying) Briese and his colleague NSW District Court judge Paul Flannery QC in the early 1980s with a view to perverting the course of justice in relation to criminal charges against Foord's friend and Murphy's "little mate", the Sydneysolicitor Morgan Ryan.

Murphy was investigated by two Senate Select Committeesinquiries (much to the discomfort of the Hawke government) before being convicted of attempting to pervert the course of justice by the Supreme Court of New South Wales. The ink on that conviction was not dry before it was quashed on appeal, and a retrial ordered. Murphy was acquitted at the retrial, but then a third inquiry by a parliamentary commission was set in train. The brakes on that train were stepped on abruptly in 1986 when news broke that the Labor "icon" was suffering from terminal cancer.

Soon after making his revelations, Briese was de-legitimised and pilloried by supporters of Murphy. The swarm of supporters included the Premier, Wran, who apart from behaving in a manner many would consider improper, was also either indifferent to or contemptuous of the optics of the day. After all, for many years the Premier had also been the Minister for Police. Paul Flannery, to a lesser extent, was also the target of similar wickedness.

Murphy's rent-a-crowd of true believers included a journalist on The Bulletin whose father-in-law, T. E. F. Hughes QC (a former Liberal Attorney-General) was one of Murphy's best assets (if not the best) in defending the charges. This journalist ridiculed the first Senate Select Committee, and relentlessly attacked Briese as well as eviscerating the Liberal Party representatives on that committee for their minority report. Their crime? Finding against the "icon". So who was that journalist? It was one Malcolm Turnbull.

The book also reveals the private notes of Paul Flannery, which spotlight the challenges he had when reporting judicial officers for criminal behaviour so he could keep his seat on the bench. Other characters making an appearance include: NSW Police Commissioner, Mervyn (Merv) Wood, who subsequently resigned; police officer and later specialist police prosecutor Wayne Evans, and District Court Judge John Foord (who Flannery claimed tried to purchase influence in the trial against Morgan Ryan).

Briese reveals that the police prosecutors told him of evidence which was never submitted to any inquiry. In addition, further confirmation of Murphy's improper behaviour came from the grave of former Whitlam minister "Diamond Jim" McClelland in the form of an interview he gave on condition that it would be released only after his passing (in January 1999).

Since the royal commission, all the main players have passed on: Wran (having resigned in 1984), Murphy, Morgan, Foord, Flannery and chief stipendiary magistrate Murray

Farquhar. The latter spent four years in gaol after being found guilty of conspiracy to pervert the course of justice and was sentenced in March 1985 following a royal commission conducted by Chief Justice Sir Laurence Street that looked into the alleged involvement of both Farquhar and Wran in the acquittal of former head of the Australian Rugby League, Kevin Humphreys.

Apart from exposing the misconduct of the players in the "Murphy Affair", Briese's other major contribution was to get the Wran government to grant the magistracy a formal divorce from the NSW Public Service. Hitherto, magistrates had been public servants answerable to the government in general and the executive in particular. Briese, like some others on the bench, were gobsmacked that they had for so long worked under the thumb of the executive government.

This reform, passed by the NSW Parliament on 22 December 1982, must have been offensive to Wran, given it gathered dust before finally commencing in January 1985.

Without doubt, one's downtime can be profitably utilised during any lockdown in a myriad of ways. But for Gen Xers who want to complete the jigsaw of their fragmented memories from 35 years ago, or for today's arts/economics/law students, politicians and officers of the courts who want to truly understand the history of the freedoms we now take for granted, slowly consuming Briese's book, which is more like a diary of controversial scenes of judicial misconduct, is an extremely satisfying activity.

Moreover, the book is a demonstration of courage. When Briese informed Dudley Foord, the rector of Briese's church, that he was in touch with the (first) Senate Select Committee looking into his allegations of corruption, Briese was seeking reassurance, not guidance. The rector replied: "just remember Esther and what faced her. Like Esther, you may have come to your position for a time like this".

The Book of Esther has lessons on building one's faith.

Briese's difficulties grew as the sordid episode of the Murphy Affair lurched forward. I suspect his faith was tested time and again when attempting to shine a strong light on those gaming the system to the detriment of others. One approach to overcome such trials was summarised into a hymn two hundred years ago by a parish priest in Country Wexford, Eire: one Henry Francis Lyte, in his composition, Abide with Me.

In 1982, the then president of the Law Society of NSW, the Honourable Mahla Pearlman AM, spoke of Briese's honesty and moral integrity.

Some 30-40 years later, the facts of the Murphy Affair, as laid out in the book and in the media to date, confirm that Pearlman was a very, very good judge of character.