Tuesday 28 November 2017

THE DOG’S BREAKFAST SYNDROME



A week ago, the West Australian carried an alarming story by Kate Emery headlined ‘Council rangers abused, spat on’. 

The story told of council officials going peacefully about their lawful business improving the public weal while copping filthy language, threats to life and limb, physical assaults and volleys of used saliva for their pains.

This appalling behaviour seems to have become commonplace throughout the metropolitan area. 

It has been directed not only at rangers but also at other local government officials—for example, members of the City of Fremantle’s ‘community safety team’ (27 incidents in 2016-17 including three of physical assault, suggesting that being a member of the city’s ‘safety team’ isn’t the safest job in Fremantle).

During the same period, the City of Vincent recorded six incidents of ‘ranger abuse’, three involving physical assault, while the Town of Mosman Park recorded 17 such incidents, in one of which a pole was thrown at a ranger while in another the ranger’s life was threatened.

My first reaction on reading Ms Emery’s story was one of gratitude that I live in the peaceful municipality of York, where so far as I know incidents of that kind are extremely rare if not entirely unknown.

My second was to wonder what causes some people to behave so atrociously towards innocent council employees. 

Is it a manifestation of the decay of civility in this godforsaken postmodern era, a process spurred on by displays of psychopathic violence and foul language in movies and on TV? 

Does it relate to the contempt for authority in all its forms that flows from the anarchic forces unleashed by social media?

Or might it, perhaps, have something to with the domineering attitude of some local government folk towards members of the public—the people who pay their wages and whom they are elected or appointed to serve?

Dog days in Mosman Park

The mention of Mosman Park brought to mind a report I read recently of a Town of Mosman Park council meeting.   The report, by David Hudlestone, was published in the Subiaco Post on 30 September last under the alluring headline ‘Dog owners savage ranger’. 

To cut a very long story short, the Mosman Park council had decided to ‘crack down’ on dog owners after an elderly lady hurt herself falling over an unleashed dog.  The mayor, Ron Norris, made it pretty clear during the meeting that the council had acted less out of concern for the wellbeing of frail old ladies than from a fear of costly litigation.

It appears that the ranger was enforcing the crackdown with a degree of zeal bordering on the bizarre and relying on powers that—so far as I know—municipal rangers don’t in fact possess.

 Not surprisingly, Mosman Park dog owners were outraged.  They turned up to the September council meeting in considerable numbers to complain about how the ranger was doing his job.

One resident described the ranger’s behaviour as ‘confrontational’.  The ranger had asked for information about his dog, then fined him $200.  

The complainant continued: ‘Naturally I objected to this as the dog was on the lead and then he said, “what’s your date of birth?” and that’s when I blew up’.

As the complainant walked off, the ranger shouted ‘Well, that’s another $400 for withholding information’.

A resident who told of having received three fines totalling $600 said the ranger had threatened to arrest her for refusing to give him her name and date of birth.

Another resident said that women in their eighties were walking their dogs at 5 am to stay out of the ranger’s way.  He added that the ranger ‘had all the people skills of an SS guard’ and accused him of hiding in the bushes and jumping out ‘on little old ladies and little old men’.

Yet others alleged that the ranger took video footage of people walking their dogs.  They wanted to know where the footage was kept.

To cap it all, the ranger was alleged by a witness to have parked his vehicle illegally in a dangerous position on a local street while confronting the resident mentioned above as having ‘blown up’ when asked for his date of birth.

Mayor Norris pointed out that the council had advertised its intention to enforce dog laws more strictly.  He said there had been a warning period before the crackdown was enforced.  However, he accepted residents' concerns about ‘the manner in which it is being applied’.

There is no indication, by the way, that residents were opposed in principle to council’s decision to enforce its dog policy more strictly—though they might not have been too happy about the size of the fines.  In my experience, most dog owners are responsible people who understand the need to keep their animals on a leash in public places.

What upset the dog enthusiasts of Mosman Park was the bullying attitude of the ranger, who if what residents alleged was true—as the mayor seems to have acknowledged—was hardly the kind of person to entrust with a position that would bring him into daily contact with the public.

‘Man, proud man, dress’d in a little brief authority…’

Unfortunately, his is only an extreme example of an attitude I’ve often encountered in dealing with public servants at various levels of government.   Too many such individuals mistakenly regard being a public servant as a mark of moral and intellectual superiority that sets them apart from the common ruck of humankind.

That’s no less true of holders of political office, many of whom tend to identify more closely with their colleagues, including their political opponents, than with the people whose interests they were elected to serve.

Underlying this phenomenon is a deep distrust of ordinary people. Often that distrust is mingled with contempt. 

I’ve heard politicians refer sarcastically to voters as ‘the punters’.  A friend of mine, formerly a senior public servant in Canberra, once countered my mildly libertarian stance on some forgotten topic by saying heatedly that ‘people need to be managed’. 

And who can forget the opinion of a certain shire president that allowing anyone other than a councillor to chair an advisory group would result in what he called ‘a dog’s breakfast’, i.e. a stuff-up or mess?


Cartoon © Judy Horacek from her cartoon collection Make Cakes Not War (Scribe Publications 2007)

Thursday 9 November 2017

NOTES FROM UNDERGROUND



 

STOP PRESS 17 November 2017


Shire President Wallace tries to mend a fence with consolation prize of blooms and bubbly

Gift and Travel Register

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Gift Contribution Register
 Name Description Name of Contributor Address of Contributor Date received Value Estimated Nature of relationship







Cr Denese Smythe Bottle of champagne & bunch of flowers Cr David Wallace RMB 4029, Gwambygine WA 6302 24/10/2017 $34.00 Shire President & Deputy President

Rolling Denese

With considerable difficulty, I’ve managed to find out how Cr Denese Smythe was rolled as deputy shire president in favour of Cr Kevin Trent, a new kid on the block.

Cr Smythe had been led to believe (so I’m told) that the shire president would support her re-election.

It appears that another potential candidate for the position decided not to stand because the shire president had intimated his intention to support Denese.

Come the election, by pre-arrangement the three male councillors and one female voted for Cr Trent. 

So who was the woman who broke ranks, defying the claims of sisterhood?

Yes, I do know, but prefer not to say.  However, here’s a subtle clue, cryptic crossword style—‘By God’s grace neither Austen nor Doe, but in Rome an iron lady (4,5)’.

Sorry, my lips are sealed.  You’ll have to work it out for yourselves.

Shedding principle—again

Some readers may remember that in July and August of last year I published three articles concerning Council’s handling of an application to construct an oversized shed on a property in Lewis Road.

If you’re interested, you can read those articles in order of publication here, here and here.

In summary, I took issue with Council’s disregard of planning policy in relation to that application, arguing, among other things, that policy should be strictly adhered to in order to rule out the possibility or perception of favouritism and cronyism.

In the last of those articles, I cited several tribunal decisions generally supportive of my argument.

Subsequently, I scanned the minutes of successive Council meetings to see if further such applications had been approved.  I found nothing untoward, and foolishly assumed that Council had resolved in future to act according to established principle and the law.

How wrong I was. 

Earlier this year—I think it was in March or April—a disgruntled member of the public informed me that an application for an oversized shed on a property in Andrews Avenue had received Shire approval. 

When I pointed out that there had been nothing in the minutes to indicate anything of the kind, my informant accused me of naivety, saying that approval had been given under delegated authority at the behest of the shire president.  There was nothing in the minutes because the application had not gone before Council.

When I asked why the Shire had taken this course, my informant said it was to make sure that the matter ‘stayed out of the blogs’.

I wasn’t convinced.  I could not believe that a desire to avoid unwelcome publicity on social media would be likely to influence Council, the shire president or the Shire administration.

But a nagging doubt remained.

Fast forward to June, when I took part in a meeting on an unrelated matter with Paul Crewe, Executive Manager Infrastructure and Development Services.

At the end of the meeting, in the presence of a witness, I asked Mr Crewe if the Shire had approved under delegated authority an application for an oversized shed in Andrews Avenue.  He assured me it had not, adding gratuitously that the Shire was ‘wary’ of such applications.

This week, I have received what I consider impeccable confirmation that my informant was correct, and that Mr Crewe’s assurance was at best misleading and at worst an outright lie.

That being so, I’m forced to conclude that councillors (or at any rate the shire president) and Shire officers set out deliberately to conceal a decision that might have attracted adverse criticism if made public.

I have a sneaking suspicion that this isn’t the only instance of such concealment.  Who knows, perhaps other planning and building decisions have been similarly withheld for similar reasons from the public gaze.

As I’m fond of saying—not that anybody listens—secrecy in government is the first step on the path to corruption. 

It’s also a surefire way to arouse distrust and contempt on the part of the governed, when as inevitably happens in a democracy government secrets crawl or are winkled out and exposed to public view.

Poetry Corner revisited

My close friend Rollo Barker and several anonymous correspondents have insisted that the poem published with my previous post under the heading ‘Poetry Corner’ should be moved to a more prominent position on the blog. So I’m giving it a second airing here and have removed it from its former location.

The poet, larrikin laureate Harry Hogg, has tinkered a bit with the text.  What you see below is the definitive version that will appear in the revised edition of his best-selling collection Tall Tales of the Wheatbelt (Bogside Books, pp. 800, illustrated, available for $1.25 from adult bookstores and under the counter at most rural newsagents). He has reminded me this time to include the poem’s title.

Mr Hogg assures me that any resemblance to any person or persons living, dead, undead or merely comatose is entirely coincidental.

Song of the Canine Matutinal Repast: or, A Dog’s Breakfast Ditty

As night descended slowly over city, town and bush,
From a farm in York’s back garden strode the Captain of the Push.
He gazed upon us yokels, and his voice rang loud and true,
Saying “Listen up, you mongrels, ‘cause I’m just the man for you.

When perched upon my mother’s knee, a tiny little tot,
I knew that I was born to rule you miserable lot.
Now destiny has smiled on me, and proved that I was meant
Come light or dark to make my mark as shire president.

Gone are the days of fear and fright, when Hooper reigned supreme,
And all Fitz Gerald’s nasty tales are just an ugly dream.
Onward we’ll go and upward, you can join me in that caper,
I’ve made York famous, even got my photo in the paper.

I know that I’m not perfect, I admit that it’s a fact
I’m really not full bottle on the Local Government Act.
Never mind, there’s Paul to help me when my stream of thought runs dry,
That man’s a bloody marvel, always knows what’s right and why.”

On the day of the election, from the town and from the bush
Nigh on six hundred voters chose the Captain of the Push,
And many also voted for his two anointed mates,
Ignoring other candidates concerned about the rates.

Returned as shire president, the Captain is ecstatic,
The wisdom of the voters was decisive and emphatic:
He has a brand new deputy, and knows that yet again
He’ll enjoy the adulation of the lovely Lady Jane.

So the dogs have had their breakfast, and the voters sit at home,
While the Captain takes his orders from a famous garden gnome,
And they’re cursing James the Blogger for his rude audacious joke
About our dear shire president—a most impressive bloke!

Harry ‘Hayseed’ Hogg

(apologies to Henry Lawson)