Table of Contents
In Australia we rely on journalists to give the ‘first draft’ of history, chronicling people and events. Often immediate, spontaneous, exciting, seeking impact, what is reported is frequently the sexiest and occasionally the most sordid aspects of accounts and personalities. Such newspaper articles, for example, usually have a narrative structure; there is less analysis of ‘why and how’. The research undertaken for media accounts is rarely ‘triangulated’. [1] More reflective comment on why an event occurred or why a person acted in a particular way may well be lost in the ensuing debate. For journalists, a week is a long time in politics (in the words of the former British Prime Minister, Harold Wilson). This is in contrast to the time-line of biographers, who may take years and sometimes decades to complete their account of a subject’s life. Journalists and biographers use different research methods and different sets of skills.
With the benefit of hindsight, journalistic reports, which are necessarily speedily written, may prove inaccurate and lack the balance that develops with the luxury of time. The price of the luxury of time is, however, usually loss of nuance. With controversial figures such as Gough Whitlam, for example, accounts of his brief and tumultuous time in office were either negative or positive. Whitlam was seen either as hero or villain (Walter 1997: 28). Malcolm Fraser, too, was accorded either a reluctant hero or departed demon status depending on which side of the political fence you sat (Weller 1989:xii). The political consequences of actions take longer to be felt, absorbed and filtered. Some journalists have become acclaimed historians/biographers in their own right. Paul Kelly, Michelle Grattan, Shaun Carney and David Marr are among those Australian journalists who continue to provide readers with an insight into how federal politics and its actors work through books as well as articles (see Weller 2005).
Biography is a very old form of political writing. Suetonius (1957) chronicled the lives of a selected number of ‘great men’, from Julius Caesar to Domitian, in his sensationalist Twelve Caesars. Plutarch’s biographical studies, Parallel Lives, provided readers with an insight into the political events of classical Greece and Rome. His contrasting Greek and Roman personalities have long been heralded as a ‘unique example of the genre of biography in the ancient world’.[2] Despite its long history, political biography as a genre remains under-appreciated and controversial – sometimes evoking palpable hostility among intellectuals who have argued that the form may be literary, but that it is not history (O’Brien, cited in Pimlott 1999). Critics of political biography note the marginal impact of most individuals on big events. While political biography as part of mainstream political science is becoming better appreciated, there are still debates about the appropriateness of certain methodologies (see Brett 1997: vii).
This essay examines the genre of political biography. First, it defines what biography is or attempts to be. Second, it explores the different forms biography can take and the methodological approaches used in biography. It then reviews the contribution biographical study makes to political science and reviews the criticisms that have been made of the method. It concludes with an explanation of some of the problems encountered by writers attempting to re-create a life.
A simple definition of biography is that it is ‘an account of a person’s life written, composed, or produced by another’. [3] Political biography is the form through which writers breathe life into archival documents such as letters and diaries, birth, death and marriage certificates, Hansard and official records, to assist in the re-creation of a life. To the criticism that biography is a means by which we get a chance to ‘play God’, biography, through utilising the rich information contained in yellowed relics of another era, can provide insights that are built upon by the writer. As Pimlott (1999:34) stated, ‘the most exciting aspect of biography is that it links together human events in the way human beings actually experience them’. Biography should never be viewed as a tool by which to make universal sense of a subject. It is a subjective and highly interpretative method, one in which seeking the ‘compassionate truth’ should never be underplayed.
Biography is not simple reportage of one life (Pimlott 1985: xi), nor is it merely a narrative. It certainly cannot hope and should not pretend to be the whole truth. The method is historical, interpretive and, like much social science research, the implicit motivations drawn out in biography are frequently hard to test and often difficult to quantify. It is therefore selective and open to critique. Frequently, as is the case with L.F. Crisp’s 1961 life of Ben Chifley and, three and a half decades later, David Day’s Chifley, biographical research builds upon what has been uncovered by another. They can, thus, be viewed as ‘works in progress,’ progressively enhancing what is known about a subject as an increasingly detailed portrait emerges. It is questionable as to whether there is any such thing as a definitive biography. Some biographies, however, are indispensable and some of such quality that it is unlikely they will be superseded subsequently.
A challenge in writing about a life is acknowledging and processing the changes made during that life — personally, professionally and spiritually. Studies that focus on a person within a time-frame (for example, as prime minister only), and ignore other periods, are in danger of over-simplification. A.W. Martin, in the two volume life of Robert Menzies, had to weave the story of a prime minister who, when he returned for his second term in 1949, was a substantially more mature individual than he had been during his first term (1939-41). How events affect personalities is as important as reflecting on how personalities shape events.
The approaches taken by biographers are varied and include the historical-chronological method, the psycho-analytical method, the historical-novella and the journalistic account. Biography has been defined as a ‘dangerous art’ (Rickard 1987). It certainly becomes that if the biographer claims to know ‘what the person feels’ (Tridgell 2004). Historical methodology, the relentless digging up of data to validate the writing of a life, defined by one author as ‘rigorous, forensic inquiry’, is where the craft of political biography begins (Wheatley 2002). That is the bare minimum. And yet, if political science without biography is, indeed, ‘a form of taxidermy’ (Lasswell, cited in Walter 1980), why is the methodology of biography on the whole so ill-defined? Many social research method texts do not refer to this form of research explicitly (see, for example, Neuman 1997). Could its popularity be one reason biography, until recently at least, has not rated highly among some academics?[4] Robert Skildelsky, biographer of Oswald Mosely (1975) and John Maynard Keynes (1983-2000), stated the method had ‘not yet fully won its intellectual spurs … as a cogent intellectual enterprise’ (cited in Walter (forthcoming)).
Often the method appears as ‘art’, with amateurs as keen to take up the pen and write the life story of a favourite father, uncle or ancestor. But more prevalent are the thoroughly researched, professionally written, historical accounts which are the focus of this essay. It is here that we find the true craft of writing biography. These works weld the art and the science together. The end result of such writing can provide students of politics with another perspective on how power is wielded and shared, how leaders are made as well as born, and how circumstances can catapult ordinary people into extraordinary situations. Out of the biographical method emerges a set of understandings and contexts that are different from other social science endeavours — of necessity less theoretical and more personal, empathetic and narrative. Narrative research methodology ‘directs questions about what it means to interpret and experience the world (rather than explain or predict it)’ (Spina and Dodge 2005: 144). It is gaining respect as an approach which can increase our understanding of ‘specific phenomena’ such as leadership and life experiences of the people under study.[5]
John Dollard wrote in the 1930s about the criteria needed for researching life history.[6] These criteria were established to articulate what he believed should go into the ideal biography. At the forefront was the need to place the individual under study as one member of a social group — which would exist even without our particular subject being born. That provides the context to underpin the notions of where a particular subject fits into history. He urged writers to take account of family influences — where did he/she fit into that grouping of people — the expectations they had of him/her, where was he/she placed in the family as well as the political views held by parents and family and then plot how he/she adapted those views within the context of his own life experiences. Dollard urged writers not to take the subjects own words for this — but triangulate through supporting evidence. Through assessing his/her family’s views on broader agendas, writers are then more able to understand the earliest influences on our subject. This provides rudimentary notions of how he/she viewed the world, his/her ideological stance on issues such as, for example, the White Australia policy, communism or sectarianism. For political biographies Dollard suggested two necessary points of reference — the subject’s political outlook and his/her style of work in politics (see Davies, 1972).
As Lasswell (cited in Davies 1972: 115) stated, answers to particular questions tell a great deal about the character under study. For example, he suggested the following questions as a tool that would assist researchers in building up a general biographical portrait:
How does the individual react as a subordinate when confronted by superiors of different kinds (strong and brutal, masterful but objective, weak)?
How does he act as a superior confronted by subordinates of different kinds (strong, hostile, dangerous rivals; strong and objective; weak)?
What is his style of expression?
What is his characteristic mode of thought, and style of decision?
Is he inventive/ uninventive; quick or slow to suggest policies and tactics; influenced by facts and arguments, appeals to sentiment, personal inducements, sense of public interest, or coercion?
Does he behave in a traditional style or self-consciously? Does victory or defeat elate or depress him?