The Battle for the Franklin
In the end, it came down to one envelope and one helluva lot of luck. The saving of the Franklin River, the greatest environmental battle in Australian history—a battle that saw political leaders deposed, states’ rights defined, tens of thousands of people mobilised, more than a thousand arrests, and eventually, the saving of Tasmania’s greatest wild river—arguably came down to luck and a single rarely discussed act: a staffer sending on a letter from an ex-premier before his successor had a chance to destroy it. Without that letter being sent, the Franklin may well be flooded today.
Of course, there was far more to it than that. In the scheme of things, the letter might seem trivial when compared to the seven years of campaigning and to the fact that people gave up jobs, moved interstate and put their lives on hold. And of course, it involved far more than one person, even if that one person is Bob Brown. More than anyone seen as the face of the campaign, Brown says, “I’m sometimes introduced as, ‘The man who saved the Franklin’. I have to get up and say, I’m sorry but that’s not true. I can name at least half a dozen other people without who, had they not been involved, the Franklin would have been lost.”
In retrospect, it seems hard to believe saving the Franklin was even a close-run thing. Nonetheless, history records that it came down to a single vote in the High Court. But before we start, you have to understand the power of Tasmania’s Hydro-Electric Commission, the quasi-governmental authority charged with generating hydroelectricity, along with constructing the necessary dams to do so. Back in the 70s, the Hydro, as it was known, was Tasmania’s largest employer, this in a state with the country’s highest unemployment. And to many Tasmanians, the Hydro was also symbolic: it meant progress. It was powerful, too. It’s said that when big businesses came to Tasmania, they met the Hydro first before visiting the government. Even Doug Lowe, state premier during much of the campaign, said that when he was castigated after giving his first speech to parliament—he spoke about reviewing the decision to flood Lake Pedder—it occurred to him that it wasn’t the government controlling this issue, it was the Hydro.
By 1970, more than 40 dams had been built across the state. Only one major river still ran wild and free: the mighty Franklin. First descended in the 50s (see John Dean’s profile on p34), the river remained the preserve of canoeists and kayakers until 1976, when Paul Smith asked around to see if others wanted to join him on the first ever rafting trip down it; only Dr Bob
