The Governor General's dilemma: His flock and the hard place

by Simon Longstaff

In an unhappy twist of fate, the Governor General of Australia now finds himself caught in an ethical dilemma that mirrors the one faced by him as Anglican Archbishop of Brisbane a little over a decade ago.

Back then, the challenge was to balance a prudent concern for the welfare of his diocese and those it served, against open compassion for a child sexually abused by her teacher. Today, the challenge facing Peter Hollingworth is to balance the need to defend his personal reputation against an obligation to uphold the conventions of his office and ultimately to ensure that the dignity of the office of Governor General is not debased by public scandal. As we will see, this is a challenge that few could hope to meet; perhaps not even a man as good as is Peter Hollingworth.

To understand the depth of the problem facing the Governor General, it is important to identify a few key elements in his predicament. First, there is the fact that Peter Hollingworth is operating with one hand, metaphorically, tied behind his back. While private citizens are usually free to defend themselves with all of the zeal that they can muster, a person holding the office of Governor General is required to be circumspect - to hold him or her self above the usual fray of daily controversy. So even if it is true that Peter Hollingworth discharged all of his duties, as Archbishop, with the highest degree of competence and integrity, his ability to tackle his critics is constrained by the requirement that he preserve the decorum of his office.

The truth of the matter is that the then Archbishop Hollingworth acted in a manner that he now considers, with the benefit of hindsight, to be less than ideal. As a priest, Peter Hollingworth would have been fully conscious of his obligation to minister to the young girl who had been abused and to her family. As an Archbishop, he would have been acutely aware of the need to identify and remove the threat to children under his ultimate control and protection. However, he would also have been advised, by church officials, that he must have a regard for the bigger picture - that he must take into account the legal implications of any response he might make, that he must bear in mind the conditions of any insurance policies in force at the time.

Seen in this light, Hollingworth's choice was not simply between ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. In reality, it was a struggle between ‘right’ and ‘right’: the needs of the few versus the needs of the many, present harm versus future good, duty versus compassion. Thus, on the one hand stood the majesty of the law and the needs of a diocese. On the other hand stood the claims of an abused child. Hollingworth and his conscience stood in the middle.

Archbishop Hollingworth will not have been the first person to be swayed by legal considerations. Nor will he be the last. One of the sad effects of our becoming one of the most litigious societies on earth is that people have become far more 'defensive' in their attitude to the victims of malice or accident.

However, the problem for Peter Hollingworth is compounded by the fact that his was no ordinary position from which to make a difficult ethical choice. We cannot forget that, for all of the difficulty of his dilemma, Hollingworth led a church founded on the fundamental proposition that love transcends mere law. In the parable that bears his name, the 'Good Samaritan' does not pass by the man lying beaten on the road. Nor does he consult his lawyer before reaching out to help.

This is not to lessen my point about the significance of the dilemma facing Archbishop Hollingworth. Nor is it meant to suggest that he is anything less than the good man that a lifetime of compassion proves him to be. All that it says is that good men can make bad mistakes - sometimes betraying the things they are sworn to uphold.

Today, Peter Hollingworth is faced with the same basic choice. He has sworn to uphold the office of Governor General. Whether explicitly stated or not, part of his obligation is to hold the office of Governor General in trust for the Australian community. In turn, this requires him to ensure that the standing of the office is not brought into disrepute. Convention suggests that he must maintain a dignified silence. Paradoxically, his restraint allows the controversy to rage around him.

The storm may blow over. If not, then the choice facing the Governor General will be clear. If, in all good conscience, Peter Hollingworth comes to believe that his continued occupation of the role of Governor General is bringing the office into disrepute, then he will have to resign. Furthermore, he will have a duty to do so - even if it harms his personal reputation - even if it defies political wisdom, the will of the government and convention.

As was the case a decade ago, Peter Hollingworth may ultimately face a choice between conscience and the dictates of the world. Nobody can make this choice for him. However, should it come to this, then it will be the ultimate test of the Governor General's essential character as a man.

The tragic irony is that Peter Hollingworth may have to resign the office of Governor General in order to demonstrate, conclusively, that he deserved the honour all along.

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Dr Simon Longstaff is Executive Director of St James Ethics Centre.

A version of this article was first published in The Australian on 24 December 2001.

© St James Ethics Centre

© St James Ethics Centre