Graham Richardson. Whatever it takes and what it costs

When I was young, I thought Henry Kissinger was something special. He seemed calm, clever, powerful, the man everyone turned to when the world was on fire. The media made him sound like a hero. Only later did I learn about the secret bombings in Cambodia, the support for dictators, and the way real people paid the price for his so-called strategy. The shine came off pretty fast once you understood what those decisions meant for ordinary lives.

“Henry Kissinger is one of the worst people to ever be a force for good.”  Nicholas Thompson, editor of newyorker.com

Graham Richardson came later, but I was never a fan. Different stage, same play. He was the backroom operator who knew how to pull the strings, the man everyone said you had to have on your side. Yet somehow, despite all the questions and all the deals, he stayed above it all. The media made him a character, not a cautionary tale.

“There were no true believers in Richo’s world, only those who could deliver. It was effective, certainly, but it left behind a smaller kind of politics, one that taught us how easy it is to win the game and lose the point of playing it.”

It’s funny how age changes what you see. Back then, power looked impressive. Now I look at it and wonder who was writing the story, and why we all believed it. Instead of lifting public life, he made it narrower, more cynical, more about winning than governing.

In the end, the commentators probably summed him up best.

“Richo was the ultimate Labor numbers man,  brilliant, ruthless, and utterly transactional. He turned survival into an art form, always one step ahead of the fallout. To many, he made politics look like a business deal, where loyalty was negotiable and purpose optional. “

Addendum

News that Graham Richardson will be given a state funeral has stunned me  Honouring him in this way feels less like recognition of public service and more like confirmation of how skewed our political compass has become.

There was a time when state funerals were reserved for those who lifted the country, people whose contribution went beyond party or personal survival. Now it seems the test is different: power itself has become the virtue.

It’s not about denying grief or denying that he mattered to many. It’s about what we, as a nation, choose to honour. When a life spent mastering political deals is celebrated as public greatness, it tells us more about our leaders than about the man in the coffin.

For me, it’s another reminder of why integrity still matters, and why we need to keep asking the hard questions about who gets remembered, and what for.

Investigative reporter Kate McClymont’s story in SMH today 11 Nov 2025 is behind a paywall but it is so spot on it’s worth a subscription. ‘Long lunches, Swiss bank accounts and a kangaroo scrotum: My decades pursuing Graham Richardson”

#PowerAndPerception #MediaInfluence #Realpolitik #AustralianPolitics #GrahamRichardson #HenryKissinger #WhateverItTakes #PublicAccountability #LessonsFromHistory #CriticalThinking

 

 

 

The Ugliness of Using Others to Do Your Bidding – The Proxy Wars

There’s something undeniably ugly about powerful entities—whether in the Middle East or right here in Australian politics—using others to do their bidding while stepping back from the dirty work. It feels manipulative and disingenuous. It’s a tactic that allows agendas to be pushed through complex systems without full transparency or accountability. And it’s no wonder that, for those of us trying to make sense of it all, it leaves a bad taste. The real issues, and the people they affect, often get lost in the shuffle of political manoeuvring.

I’ve been digging into how conflicts and politics work, and this recurring theme is hard to ignore. In places like the Middle East, we see countries like Iran using proxy groups—militias and organisations that fight on their behalf—to achieve goals without getting directly involved. It’s a way to influence events while keeping their hands clean, avoiding the immediate risks of being on the frontlines themselves.

The unsettling part? This very same concept exists in Australian politics. Here, political parties may not use militias, but they still rely on proxy groups in the form of advocacy organisations, unions, business groups, and media outlets to push their agendas while maintaining a safe distance from the consequences. Let’s break it down.

In the Middle East, Iran might back a militia to fight battles, all while claiming plausible deniability. In Australia, the playbook is a bit more polished, but the idea is similar. Political parties use third-party groups to do the heavy lifting.

Take the Australian Labor Party (ALP), which benefits from trade unions campaigning for workers’ rights, running ads, and mobilising support. The Liberal Party has its own proxies—business groups like the Minerals Council of Australia, which fight against regulation that might harm industry profits. Then there’s the role of the media. Outlets like News Corp Australia tend to lean into conservative policies, giving the Liberal Party a megaphone without the party itself having to say a word.

What ties all of this together is the idea of plausible deniability. Political parties benefit from these campaigns, but when things get controversial or unpopular, they can step back and say, “That wasn’t us.” It’s a clever way to play the game without getting your hands dirty, just like in the Middle East, where proxy groups do the fighting while those in power sit back.

In both cases, the strategy is clear: achieve your goals without direct involvement in the messier aspects. Whether it’s political influence in Australia or military conflict abroad, this approach allows those in power to keep their distance from the fallout, while others do the dirty work. It’s an age-old tactic, but it doesn’t make it any less troubling.

For the rest of us, it’s frustrating to see how real issues—be they workers’ rights, industry regulation, or even the integrity of our political system—are overshadowed by backroom manoeuvring and strategic distancing. In a system where proxy groups are doing the bidding, accountability often falls by the wayside.

So, the next time you see a heated political campaign or read an aggressive editorial in a newspaper, it’s worth asking: who’s really pulling the strings? The answer might not be as straightforward as it seems.

#PoliticalManipulation #ProxyPolitics #HiddenInfluence #PowerDynamics
#BehindTheScenes #AustralianPolitics #MediaManipulation #PoliticalStrategy #CorporateInfluence #PlausibleDeniability
#PoliticalAccountability #PoliticalProxies #ProxyWars

Footnote:

Back to the reason I did a deep dive into this issue in the first place is to me the most confusing aspects of the Middle East conflicts is the widespread use of proxy warfare. This means that powerful countries—such as Iran, the U.S., or Saudi Arabia—back local militant groups to fight on their behalf, rather than engaging in direct military confrontation. For example, Iran supports Hezbollah and various Shia militias, while the U.S. has backed Kurdish forces in Syria.

Proxy wars blur the lines between state and non-state actors. When these groups launch attacks or fight in regional conflicts, it’s not always clear who is pulling the strings or what their ultimate goals are. This indirect involvement of powerful nations adds another layer of confusion, making it hard for everyday observers to tell which country or group is driving the conflict.

Another reason why understanding the Middle East can be so challenging is the way media covers these events. News outlets often focus on specific incidents—such as a rocket attack or a military strike—without always explaining the broader context. While these snapshots are important, they don’t provide the full picture.

Moreover, the media often simplifies conflicts into binary narratives: good versus evil, ally versus enemy. In reality, the Middle East conflicts are not so black and white. Allies today could become enemies tomorrow, and groups that seem ideologically opposed may cooperate for strategic reasons. This oversimplification makes it even harder for the average person to get a grip on the true nature of the conflicts.

Politics plays a huge role in shaping how conflicts are portrayed. Governments around the world, including in the U.S. and Europe, often frame Middle Eastern conflicts in ways that align with their national interests. For example, Israel’s security concerns are frequently emphasised in Western media, while the humanitarian crisis in Gaza may not receive the same level of attention.

This selective reporting can skew public understanding, leaving many people with only part of the story. Without access to clear, unbiased information, it’s difficult for the average citizen to develop an informed perspective.

Amid all the political manoeuvring and military strategies, the human cost of these conflicts is often overshadowed. Civilians in places like Syria, Gaza, and Yemen bear the brunt of the violence, yet their suffering can be reduced to just another statistic. For those far removed from the region, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that real people—families, children, communities—are caught in the middle.

Understanding these conflicts isn’t just about knowing who’s fighting whom; it’s about recognising the profound impact these wars have on the lives of ordinary people. Unfortunately, this humanitarian aspect often gets lost in the geopolitical discourse.

A Review of Dervla McTiernan’s “What Happened to Nina”

Today I read Dervla McTiernan’s “What Happened to Nina?”

This is my Amazon Review:

“Dervla McTiernan’s “What Happened to Nina?” is an enthralling tale that plunges readers into a family’s desperate search for truth amid intense public and media scrutiny. The novel’s gradual narrative pace invites us to deeply connect with the characters, offering insight into their innermost thoughts and the extreme measures they’ll undertake for the sake of family.

Narrated through the eyes of its central figures, the story unfolds in layers, revealing a complex drama that mirrors real-life incidents, reminiscent of the heart-wrenching case of Gabrielle Venora Petito.

McTiernan masterfully crafts a narrative that not only captivates but also mirrors the societal pulse, where the distinction between fact and fiction is often obscured by those wielding influence.

More than a mystery, McTiernan’s work is a profound reflection on the impact of social media and public perception on contemporary justice. It’s a thought-provoking piece that challenges readers to contemplate the intricate web of human emotions and legal ethics.

Psychological underpinnings of parental unconditional forgiveness.