Josh Frydenberg's memoir sparks debate over political comebacks and memoir culture in Australian politics

Former treasurer Josh Frydenberg’s new memoir, marketed as a coming-of-age story, family history and pandemic retrospective rolled into one, is due to hit shelves soon. Publisher HarperCollins Australia promises it will be a reflection “on what political power can and cannot achieve, on the cost of public life in an increasingly divided world, and on the unique promise and potential of Australia.”

The press release promises an account of how Australia achieved “one of the strongest economic and health recoveries in the world” in the wake of the pandemic and a rumination on Frydenberg’s many ways to lead: “in his inspiring advocacy against antisemitism and hate in the aftermath of Australia’s deadliest domestic terrorist attack at Bondi, he found the words many were searching for.”

Some observers see it as the latest tactic in a larger strategy to help position Frydenberg – who lost his seat to independent Monique Ryan in 2022 – for a potential comeback.

If the pundits are correct and Frydenberg’s mid-life memoir is part of a tilt, it would suggest the former treasurer has yet to learn from the fable of so many predecessors.

Labouring under American illusions

Book-length political myth-making is not new to today’s politicians. It’s a tried and tested tool in American presidential candidacies from John F Kennedy through to Joe Biden. Presidential hopeful Barack Obama showed what a well-timed book could do for an up-and-coming leader.

In the 20th century, Labor partisans languishing in opposition were the ones most likely to emulate the Americans. A growing local publishing industry urged them on. But the men who published in the 1960s, such as opposition leader Arthur Calwell and senior left figure Jim Cairns, quickly found that they were, to borrow Lloyd Bentsen’s immortal words, “no Jack Kennedy”.

Labor parliamentarians such as Lindsay Tanner and Wayne Swan published more political musings during the Howard years. Sales were rarely stellar and just one, an up-and-coming western Sydney MP named Mark Latham, found that his densely cerebral book, Civilising Global Capital (1998), marked him out as a possible leader. In any case, observers such as Michelle Grattan knew that “Labor books” tended to become “Liberal weapons” before long.

Liberal literature

Liberals have more recently turned to this version of performance politics, curating personas and sculpting personal backstories in service of a larger ambition.

The crisis of authority within the Liberal party post-Howard has seen bitter conflict between factions, leaders and ideological traditions. Owning one’s own history, and that of the party generally, has in that context become a more important feature of conservative politicking.

Tony Abbott’s mid-career memoir, Battlelines, helped make him leader. That book began as a project to help Abbott recover from what colleagues called a “political funk”. It gave him a larger public platform and a series of controversial policy ideas (ranging from carbon charges and a referendum for greater commonwealth constitutional power, through to age pension reforms and a special “covenant” form of marriage) to debate with his interviewers. It culminated in a promotional tour that showed he still had communicative skills – and a little charisma.

Abbott’s book events conveniently became dialogues with increasingly disillusioned Liberal members who loathed the then Rudd government’s emissions reduction policy. Earlier inclined to concede the issue, Abbott was emboldened to pick a fight with Labor and, in the first instance, with climate conscious opposition leader Malcolm Turnbull, whose job he secured by a single vote in a party room on 1 December 2009.

But Battlelines was the exception, not the norm.

In 2011, Liberal frontbencher Andrew Robb published a very decent book, Black Dog Daze, describing his suffering and treatment for diurnal variation (serious morning depressions). It was an honest and brave account of a sensitive personal topic. But it too was shaped by leadership aspirations that would go unfulfilled.

In government, Christopher Pyne published a book called A Letter to My Children, explaining his approach to public service and the inspiration of his father, the late ophthalmologist Remington Pyne. The book and its marketing softened his reputation as a parliamentary antagonist and would-be deregulator of higher education fees. But that hardly placed him in the “winner’s circle”, as it were.

The cautionary tale of Costello

But perhaps the best cautionary fable for Frydenberg is the story of former treasurer Peter Costello. John Howard’s longsuffering deputy shocked Liberals by declining the leadership after the 2007 election. Returning to the backbench, he knuckled down to work with his father-in-law – conservative intellectual Peter Coleman – on the book that became The Costello Memoirs: The Age of Prosperity.

From go to whoa, that book was synonymous with leadership speculation. Costello joked with his publishers that the book could be called “The story so far”. He told reporters he would not be a leadership candidate in the future, but Coleman told the same reporters there was still “a crack in the door”.

Journalists initially mused that a successful memoir might make Costello leader. But by the time the book was published in October 2008, life (and the media) had moved on. There was leadership churn already, and a global financial meltdown under way.

The book sold well, but even that was initially unclear. It was reportedly beaten in its first few weeks by a children’s fantasy book (Christopher Paolini’s third Eragon novel) and the follow-up sequel of a book of recipes using no more than four ingredients (4 Ingredients 2). It must have all been rather anticlimactic. Costello left parliament the following year.

Performance politics

There are good reasons for serving politicians to publish books. They can command attention, stimulate debate and, occasionally, make for engaging reading. Jim Cairns helped modernise Labor politics with his ambitious – if dense – tomes on Australia’s future as a social democratic society in the Asian region. Abbott and Costello both made a contribution to Liberal debates about the future.

Today ambitious politicians recognise that growing disaffection with the political class and declining attachment to the major parties mean they need to present themselves in increasingly personal, autobiographical terms.

But these books are imperfect vehicles for political revival. Even if there are still enough Liberal party members to fill a book launch in Kooyong, Frydenberg cannot assume that there’s a long line of readers, voters and parliamentary backers to usher him to high office, no matter how many glowing endorsements appear on the back of his book.