TWO HOMES FOR THE PARLIAMENT

Canberra, as a citadel of democracy, has always had to absorb its full share of democratic argument, acrimony and applause. The same applies to both Parliament Houses built in the city.

Even the site of the capital was a bone of contention, snarled over by New South Wales and Victoria. In colonial days, the people of the two communities had such chauvinistic attitudes toward each other that the Victorians seemed likely to reject federation if there was any likelihood of Sydney becoming the capital of the Commonwealth. To allay such fears and yet placate New South Welshmen, the framers of the Constitution hammered out Section 125. It ordained that the seat of government should be in a territory of at least 260 square kilometres, carved out of New South Wales, but situated at least 160 kilometres from Sydney. In pre-aviation days, that seemed far enough to insulate the federal capital from the influence of Sydneysiders. As a further sop to the Victorians, it was agreed that the Commonwealth Parliament should sit in Melbourne until the new capital was ready for occupation.

Once that argument had been settled it was followed by another over the exact location of the Australian Capital Territory. At least 20 parliamentarians of New South Wales presented excellent reasons why the Territory should be in their constituencies. But the planners at last recommended a beautiful site on the Monaro Tableland, in a landscape dominated by Mt Kosciusko, 344 kilometres south-west of Sydney.

One story says that an official party, sent to inspect the site, arrived on a freezing morning and instantly rejected the location. Probably influential Sydneysiders wanted a site closer to their city. In a 1908 ballot, the politicians voted for a site which most of them had never heard of, 248 kilometres from Sydney as the crow flies and 483 kilometres from Melbourne.

'Canberra Plains' then comprised nine large pastoral properties, including Yarralumla and Duntroon, and two or three villages. The human population, of 1714, was vastly outnumbered by 224,764 sheep and even by 1762 horses. The original inhabitants, the Ngunawal Aborigines, had long since disappeared.

Henry II introduced trial by jury, a unique concept in a Europe ruled by absolute monarchies. The noblemen forced his son John to accept Magna Carta. This document was the first to define the rights and duties of Englishmen - or, at least, of those Englishmen who did not have the misfortune to be villeins, vassals or serfs.

Parliamentarians were in no hurry to leave the comfort of Melbourne for the 'bush capital' and nothing significant happened until 1911, when they announced an international design competition for the capital. British architects promptly boycotted the contest, on the grounds that politicians were incompetent in city planning. Still, 137 entries landed on the desk of the Minister for Home Affairs. Most of the designers had never seen the site and some of the designs were little more than fantasies.

On 23 May 1912, the Minister announced that the prize of £1750 was to be awarded to a 35-year-old Chicago architect, Walter Burley Griffin. A year later, ceremonies on Capital Hill formalised the beginning of construction and Parliament accepted the name of Canberra - ignoring suggestions such as 'Cooeetown', proposed by scoffers. There was so little interest in the ceremonies that only one of the six Premiers attended.

Arguments quickly erupted over the design. The Department of Works shelved Griffin's design and worked out one of its own, until Prime Minister Joseph Cook commanded the use of Griffins plans. Griffin, appointed Federal Capital Director of Design and Construction, was instructed to organise a competition for the design of Parliament House. His conditions attempted to influence entrants toward a modern rather than a traditional design. However the competition was aborted by the outbreak of the First World War.

For the next nine years Griffin had to fight his own war against public servants and politicians meddling with his design. He eventually resigned in despair. By that time, Australians could hardly believe that Canberra would ever become a reality. The subject had become a joke and, when a contest invited designs for a city coat-of-arms, a critic remarked that the design should be "a public servant rampant on a field of red dust, which is about the most conspicuous object on the capital city landscape today".

Parliamentarians saw that voters had little interest in the city's development and they quietly modified Griffin's vision into a tightly budgeted plan for the city and for Parliament House. For the latter, the Department of Works chose a simple, functional and somewhat nondescript design, to serve as a 'provisional' building until sufficient money and determination had been accumulated for the construction of a nobler building. The 'provisional' building was to outlive those who approved the plans. They had been bombarded with criticism for alleged lack of taste, vision and judgement.

The building, dubbed 'the wedding cake' was a modest two-storey brick construction faced with white stucco. Eventually it was to be extended to about two and a half times it original size, with modifications including conversion of some of the original toilets into offices.

Basically the building reflected the traditional Westminster influence on Australian government. King's Hall, named after the reigning monarch King George V, stands in the centre of the building as a formal reception area, with a fine parquet floor of Australian timbers and a gallery of paintings and sculptures. The colour schemes, of red for the Senate and green for the House of Rep-resentatives, follow the traditional colours of the House of Lords and House of Commons. The Speaker's Chair is a replica of that in the House of Commons. Winged flaps on the armrests are made of oak from Nelson's flagship Victory, and the Royal Coat-of-Arms is carved in 600-year-old oak from the original Westminster Hall.

Fortunately only 6000 visitors, instead of the expected 100,000, attended the opening of Parliament House by the Duke of York on 9 May 1927. The capital could not accommodate even those who did arrive and many had to sleep in tents. Dame Nellie Melba sang 'God Save The King' from the steps of Parliament House and the Army and Air Force made a brave show, but the media gave only grudging coverage to the event.

Reluctantly and resentfully, the public service and politicians made their move to the embryo city, which was ruled most undemocratically by the Federal Capital Commission. The commissioners turned out the lights at midnight, forbade the sale of strong liquors and kept a stern eye on morality. When they discovered that women in a hostel for single females were entertaining men, they raided the hostel and arrested the offenders. On Fridays the trains to Sydney and Melbourne were crammed with fugitives from the wowserish regime.

Life became freer when the Commission was abolished, but Canberra developed very slowly during the hard years of the Depression and the Second World War. In 1921, an advisory committee had recommended that "utilitarian development and economy should be the aim in the first stage" and the government was virtually forced to agree. Canberra life was much like that of a pleasant country town, apart from the influx of press and politicians when Parliament was sitting. The community had a stricter hierarchy than most country towns - that of the public service. It was said that families lived on 'mutton, lamb or steak' according to the breadwinner's rank in the service.

But post-war prosperity, the demands of Robert Menzies for Canberra to become a capital worthy of Australia and the explosive increase in government authorities and institutions all resulted in the establishment of the National Capital Development Commission in 1958 and the rapid expansion of the city and its satellite towns. Basically, city development followed Griffin's original concept of free-flowing curves designed around a central triangle with apices linked by great vistas.

By 1958, the 'provisional' Parliament House was already inadequate. Despite improvements and extensions, the building swarmed like a beehive with permanent staff, parliamentarians and their staffs and members of the press gallery. In 1955 a Senate Select Committee recommended construction of a new Parliament House, on Capital Hill, and the NCDC continuously pressured the government for a new building.

But few politicians showed any enthusiasm for a costly new building, which they would have to justify to voters demanding schools and hospitals. They could not even decide on a location. Eventually, the NCDC forced the issue with a report outlining the comparative merits of Camp Hill and Capital Hill as possible locations and asked for a vote on non-party lines. The majority voted for Capital Hill and the 1974 Parliamentary Act confirmed this decision. Malcolm Fraser and his Treasurer, John Howard, were disposed to pigeon-hole the project on the grounds of its cost and political unpopularity. But a revolt of backbenchers, aggrieved by conditions in the old House, virtually compelled a decision to proceed. An international contest for the design of the building attracted 329 entries and the winner was announced on 26 June 1980. There was some criticism when the prize went to an American firm, Mitchell/Girugola and Thorpe, but to the average Australian the whole subject was as esoteric as most things that happen in Canberra.

Griffin, a modernist long before his time, would certainly have approved the design. It harmonises with his vision of a monumental symbol of nationhood that nevertheless integrates with the environment and which, unlike a more dominant building, symbolises democracy rather than inaccessible power and authority. The structure, of two boomerang-shaped curves sunk into the hillside and topped by an 81-metre stainless steel pylon flying a 13.8 x 6.4-metre flag, provides the focal point of the parliamentary zone while appearing to merge into the hill.

The design follows the democratic ideal of non-institutional openness. Everyone - politicians, staff and visitors - must enter by a grand forecourt, planned to accommodate huge crowds for ceremonies or festivities. The grounds surrounding the House are open to the public and feature picnic areas and bicycle paths. The interior, with its low but spacious rooms and areas, aims to convey the same impression of democratic friendliness and to welcome the public wherever possible. Splendid health and leisure facilities, including a swimming pool, gymnasium, saunas, dining rooms, bars, squash courts and lounges cater for everyone officially using the building. And, unlike the 'provisional' House with its British influences, Australian materials and colours are used almost entirely. The Senate and the House of Representatives follow their traditional colour schemes, but the red and green have been muted to echo the natural tones of the Australian environment.

In true democratic style, the new House has attracted its fair share of criticism. One Canberra resident describes it as "a concrete echidna burrowing into an ant bed". Another says it is "the world's biggest A-bomb shelter". Angry protests erupted when the blasting of the Capital Hill excavation cracked walls and foundations in suburban houses. Within two years, second thoughts on the original design had doubled cost projections and greatly extended the ground plan, so that Labor could accuse the Liberals of misleading the public with inaccurate cost estimates. In 1982 the House was the largest building under construction anywhere in the world. By 1984 the original size-cost factor, of 58,000 square metres for $151 million, was well on its way to the final 72,000 square metres for over $1 billion. It was the Liberals' turn to crack the whip, accusing Labor of gross mismanagement.

Media revelations of the lavishness of the project began to attract more attention from Australians, who were appalled by such figures as $12 million for an art collection at a time when welfare payments were being slashed. The sumptuous leisure features, for a Canberra elite, earned the House the nickname of 'Canberra's Pleasure Dome'. A desperate attempt to save money by delaying the landscaping of Capital Hill aroused an outcry from Canberra residents, who objected to the sight of a hill torn up by bulldozers and explosives. They threatened to plant the unsightly slopes themselves. Environmentalists protested against the use of rare rainforest timbers in the internal woodwork and the government had to ban such material.

Even the Australian colours attracted criticism. Some people said that the muted reds and greens in the Senate and House of Representatives looked 'washed out', and one Liberal said they reflect "an inferiority complex rampant in Australia".

A seemingly constant stream of strikes, pickets and protests delayed progress, while the appearance of the Eureka Flag showed the presence of the controversial Builders' Labourers Federation. At one time, a strike for severance pay caused a complete cessation of work for 14 weeks. Construction of the flagpole was blackbanned during a dispute over the portability of long service leave. An ABC-TV program claimed that employees on the site were entering the front gate in the mornings, clocking on, and slipping out through the back gate to other jobs, thus drawing two pay packets.

But there is nothing new about delays, criticisms, arguments and scandals in the design and construction of Canberra. Originally, many Australians despised and derided the very concept of the 'bush capital', which they saw as a monument to colonial jealousies. Some claimed that a capital isolated from the mainstream of Australian life would nurture a governmental system ignorant of the true needs of the people. In 1934 a visiting English writer, Thomas Wood, recorded that so many Australians disliked the Canberra concept that 'well-informed men' would not even discuss it with him.

And yet Canberra, one of only four cities in the world built specifically as a capital, has long since outlived its early bad publicity. It is now a showcase for Australian achievements, visions and ideals. No doubt the time will come when criticisms of the new Parliament House will have also faded into history and the building will stand as a proud symbol of Australia.

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