Really?

What happened to Archer was not OK - and I know that because it also happened to me

When Liberal MP Bridget Archer voted against the government to support debate over a national integrity commission on Thursday, a photograph of the aftermath took me straight back to my own experiences in Parliament.

It showed Archer seated in the House of Representatives, looking up and talking with Josh Frydenberg. Prime Minister Scott Morrison was on the sidelines looking on, albeit fleetingly. Morrison wasn’t involved in the conversation, but I know from experience he was probably very involved in what was going on.

Josh Frydenberg speaks to Bridget Archer after she crossed the floor on Thursday.Credit:Alex Ellinghausen

Archer says the Treasurer is a “very good friend” and was “being pleasant” in the photo and asking her if she was OK. She also received a text after she crossed the floor from the Prime Minister’s office, saying Morrison “wanted to see [her] at 12.15″ but had replied, “I am not ready. I need a break.”

Archer says Frydenberg then suggested she come to his office. She thought it was for a one-on-one meeting but when she got there, she says he told her: “I am going to take you to the PM’s office”. She found herself ushered into the grandeur of that room, the centre of this country’s power, and seated opposite the three most powerful people in the country. Outnumbered and outplayed.

Archer has since rejected the notion the meeting was for “pastoral care”. But Morrison declared, using only her first name: “It was a very warm and friendly and supportive meeting. Bridget is a close friend and colleague and I wanted to ensure that she was supported. And I was pleased to be there with Senator Payne and Josh Frydenberg and to be there to support Bridget.”

This was the politics of control in full swing, churning at the highest level, with Morrison and Frydenberg at the centre and Marise Payne playing a passive role. Grace Tame, the Australian of the Year who like Archer is a child sex abuse survivor, and one of the greatest truth-tellers of our time, described her view of the whole scene on social media as “textbook coercive control”.

Workplace coercive control is typically not connected to physical abuse as it sometimes is in domestic violence situations. But it is still an abuse of power, in that it is used to diminish and limit a person’s autonomy, to undermine them, create fear or impose silence. Brittany Higgins has dealt with any number of coercive control actions from powerful forces for more than two years. Former Australia Post boss Christine Holgate experienced it too from various sources, culminating in a three-second blast when Morrison bellowed down the microphone in Parliament three words: She. Can. Go.

The same power-play used against Archer was used against me almost three years ago, when I quit the Liberal Party days after Morrison took over the leadership from Malcolm Turnbull.

Before releasing a statement declaring I would not recontest the next election, I engaged in a robust dialogue with Morrison. I was measured and resolute. He pointed out to me that he was the Prime Minister. Like I’d missed the news cycle. I agreed to delay my announcement for 24 hours, not realising it was a politics of control tactic. During that time, my decision was leaked to the press and the media was backgrounded that I’d had an emotional breakdown.

Here are Morrison’s words after my statement was released: “What is important right now is Julia’s welfare ... My first concern is for her welfare and wellbeing ... I’m supporting Julia and reaching out to Julia and giving her every comfort and support for what has been a pretty torrid ordeal for her ...”

It sounded as if he was ringing to constantly check in. He wasn’t. He kept using my first name like we were friends. We weren’t. It felt infuriating, condescending and misleading.

When I crossed the floor and became an Independent, the same players used to control Archer were deployed to control me. Frydenberg played “good cop”, trying to lure and ambush me, showering praise on me, declaring we were “very good friends”, while saying I had to meet with the PM.

I felt a combination of fear and weird obligation to defend them and remain silent about the details. Coercive control, even the workplace kind, is imperceptible. It often takes time to identify it. Only years later I found the courage to call my experience for what it was. I described Morrison as being like a menacing background wallpaper, imperceptibly controlling his ministers to do his work for him. They played their roles and helped keep the wallpaper up. After three years it is still there. And it looks as if it has the same pattern.

I know I’m not the only person who felt deeply for Archer last week. Many of us have been there in our own workplaces, suffering and unable to identify the cause of our distress. Coercive control can be like that.

Archer is a woman who made a principled decision. She tells the truth. A woman whose good heart, lived experience and angst at calling truth to power shone through on her face last week. She decided there was only one right thing to do, and she did it. To think it all started with a vote about the integrity commission. To hold those in power to account. To tell the truth.

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