Rudd - legitimately ambitious or a control freak?

The whole concept of an “unauthorised biography” of a living person calls to mind either a salacious scandalous hatchet job or a critical investigation of details of a life the subject would rather leave unexamined. Nicholas Stuart’s Kevin Rudd: An Unauthorised Political Biography, to be published on Saturday, certainly contains no smoking guns and there’ll be no particular gain in Peter Costello drilling into it, yellow marker in hand. But interestingly, there’s nothing revealed in the book either which should have led Rudd himself to refuse co-operation. And that might be the most telling criticism possible.

Biographies of political leaders released during the lead up to an election are perforce journalistic in style, but also journalistic in method - that is to say, they rely principally for their source material on already published material and the willingness of sources to speak on and off the record.

Writers in this position don’t have access, as academic biographers do decades later, to archives and private correspondence. The importance of direct informants, in shaping the story to be told, is heightened by the pressing nature of the deadline.

Nicholas Stuart’s frustration with this conundrum - the fact that Rudd asked associates and friends not to co-operate with the biographer - is evident in the writing.

At times, the narrative is less favourable to Rudd than it might be had it been informed by a wider range of sources - most strikingly where The Latham Diaries has to stand in as a primary account of events. Stuart is well aware that Latham is a highly partial and possibly unreliable source, but sometimes he’s the best source in the absence of comment from Rudd and his supporters.

Stuart returns to this theme, introduced in the opening, in the final chapter on Rudd’s time as leader. Here he pinpoints perhaps Rudd’s biggest weakness - paradoxically also probably one of his attributes most conducive to his success - his overweening tendency to attempt to maintain control over events and their representations.

It’s almost uncanny that this aspect of Rudd’s character has been highlighted so prominently at the same time as the biography is released. In an opinion article published in The Australian on Tuesday, Stuart had this to say:

At some point Rudd has to realise he can't control everything. The tight direction and authority he's used to achieve his initial ambition of becoming Labor leader isn't enough to ensure his elevation to the next level.

Once you're performing on the national stage things happen, even if you don't want them to. For example, people write biographies, whether you co-operate with them or not. Learning how to delegate is a vital part of getting to the top.

Since that was written, we’ve read about the attempts by Rudd’s office to prevent publication of a briefing document on productivity apparently left behind at a media event.

What’s fascinating about Stuart’s portrait of Rudd is the way that he’s presented as very much a work in progress. “Although he's nearly 50, Rudd still has some growing to do. He's certainly capable of changing if he believes it is what he needs to do to win.”

Often, for instance, lambasted for his people skills, and lack of a common touch, Rudd transformed himself after losing the seat of Griffith in 1996, working his electorate almost manically, and continuing to do so long after he’d built an impressive margin.

One of Stuart’s sources suggests that Rudd adapted to the gladhanding necessary by treating people as an intellectual puzzle to be worked out. That’s intriguing, though it would be unfair not to note that many who spoke to Rudd talk of him as an empathetic and kind person.

No doubt he, like most people, has a more complex emotional register than what would be suggested by a naïve narrative of his transformation from intimidating Goss gatekeeper to man of the people. But it does capture something quite central to any assessment of Rudd - the way in which he learns from setbacks, and is able to focus very intensely on presenting himself in a particular way.

The same story runs through Stuart’s description of the way Rudd sought to broaden his appeal to the Labor caucus after his realisation, in the wake of Crean’s downfall, that he would attract very little support from his fellow MPs despite his self belief and undoubted talents.

It’s characteristic of the man - once he sets a goal he is determined to go after it.

This single-mindedness also has its downside, though. It’s been observed by some of the more astute political commentators this year, particularly Christian Kerr of Crikey!, that Rudd both makes very avoidable mistakes when he’s overworking himself, and that his performance suffers through the lack of strong personalities in his office capable of telling him hard truths on occasion.

This aspect of Rudd’s character is the take out message from the book. Rudd has, from an early age, shown that he pursues his goals with incredible focus and energy. Recollections of his university years from students and lecturers remark on the degree to which Rudd’s life was almost totally consumed by his studies. At high school, he didn’t have to be prompted to do homework. He couldn’t understand why anyone would need prompting.

As Stuart observes, we should not be wary of ambition if the ambition is directed towards public service, rather than self-aggrandisement. It does appear that Rudd has an ego of more than sufficient proportions, and stories about his temper abound. But Stuart, again, presents us with a more contextualised and balanced portrait of Rudd, particularly during the Goss era, when he held real power for the first time.

Stuart has written a political rather than a personal biography. Given Rudd’s non-co-operation (and again it’s fair to note that Rudd’s attitude seemed to change just before the deadline was imminent), it could hardly have been otherwise. But missing from the account of his life and character is much sense of the inner person, though his qualities as a family man certainly come through.

It’s tempting to suggest that Rudd’s determination and his single-mindedness might leave him somewhat lacking in empathy, and that he might be the worse for not having had a more rounded life. The book does note, on several occasions, the view of those who’ve worked with Rudd that he doesn’t take kindly to opposing views: this is all indicative of his control freak persona. That might be Rudd’s greatest weakness - both in his quest for the highest office, and if he attains it, in office.

Stuart, in a very fair and nuanced review of the competing stories and allegations about the death of Rudd’s father and his family’s subsequent travails, believes he’s got to the core of Rudd’s character.

Rudd’s world was collapsing around him. He appears to have been gripped by a tremendous economic anxiety, as well as concern about his family’s future. His father’s death may suggest where Rudd’s tremendous drive - as well as, possibly, his political leanings - come from.

The key to any understanding of Rudd is the fact that he never seems to stop. He pushes himself and everyone around him hard. He is extremely ambitious, displaying a determination to achieve that appears quite remarkable. In retrospect, it seems difficult to over-estimate the significance of those early events.

I found Stuart’s book quite fascinating to read. It’s well written, well researched, and sensitive not only to its subject but also to the truth.

In his closing pages, Stuart effectively suggests that what is most dangerous to Rudd might be summed up by the old adage “pride cometh before a fall”. Whether or not Rudd attains the summits of his ambition, and whether one thinks that his ambition for Australia is a good thing or not, Stuart has certainly succeeded in painting a fascinating portrait of a political figure central to the rather dour political landscape of this election year.