Career In Crisis

The Petrov spy case, now being unfolded before a three-man Royal Commission in Australia, has produced few sensations about major Soviet espionage in Australia. But Australians are fascinated, and a little appalled, by what the inquiry is doing to the career of a man who a few months ago had a good chance of becoming Australia's next Prime Minister.

Herbert Vere Evatt, leader of Her Majesty's Opposition, former Justice of the High Court, former Minister of External Affairs, bears no taint of Communism or espionage, and he had little need to be involved in the hearings. But whether by design, accident or a perverse combination of both, Herbert Evatt has staked his reputation and his future on a strange and lonely campaign to discredit all that the Royal Commission and the government are attempting to do.

Man with a Flair. In the rowdy game of Australian politics, no man has played with more vigor and flair than Herbert Evatt. A twangy-voiced, clumsily eloquent, self-made man from the New South Wales coal-mine area, he blended a superior mind, a well-nourished ego and a twelve-cylinder ambition into a striking career: he earned the highest marks in the history of Sydney University's law school, scored sensationally as a defense lawyer, wrote eleven books (including an angry defense of Captain Bligh against Hollywood's version of the Mutiny on the Bounty), became King's Counsel at 35 and a year later was made the youngest High Court judge in the British Commonwealth. When Australia's Labor Party came to power during World War II, he became both Attorney General and Minister for External Affairs.

On the world stage, Evatt was the same dashing, confident performer. Australia had never really had a foreign policy until he swaggered out to speak, usually at great length, for "Austrylia." He negotiated the first test model of the post war regional security pacts (between Australia and New Zealand), and in 1948 was elected president of the U.N. General Assembly.

Labor, thrown out of office in 1949, subsequently chose Evatt to lead its fight to return to power, and he thus became its candidate for Prime Minister. The attempt failed by a nose in last spring's national elections, and left the party sharply divided between pro-and anti-Evatt factions. Just before election came the defection of Soviet Diplomat Vladimir Petrov and his wife (TIME, April 26).

Man in Trouble. As unfolded before the Royal Commission, Petrov's story and documents did not show any major betrayal of Australian military secrets, but it did imply that a web of fellow travelers had been spun into embarrassingly high corners of the late Labor government. A young ex-reporter named Fergan O'Sullivan confessed before the Royal Commission that he had once written highly personal dossiers on fellow Australian news men at the request of a Russian working for Tass O'Sullivan later had served as Evatt's press secretary.

Then came an even louder thunderclap. Petrov had been provided with some "very confidential" information in a paper called Document J, prepared in part with information provided by Herbert Evatt's two private secretaries. The Royal Commission hastily pointed out that "we do not find anything in this document that reflects on the leader of the opposition." But that did not soothe aroused Herbert Evatt.

Learning that the Liberal government had paid Petrov $11,250 for losses he had suffered, Evatt accused the Liberals of bribing Petrov in order to beat Evatt at the polls. "This will rank with the burning of the Reichstag!" Evatt cried. Liberal Prime Minister Robert Menzies correctly pointed out that he had sternly kept all names involved in the Petrov case secret until after the election. "If I had disclosed the full facts," said he, "... Evatt would not now be in Parliament."

But Herbert Evatt plunged on. Without consulting his party on the possible consequences to the Labor Party's future, the leader of the opposition went into the Royal Commission hearings as lawyer for the two accused secretaries. There he thundered at and badgered the august commissioners until one of the judges snapped: "I don't propose to be taught by you how to administer the Royal Commission."

One of Petrov's disclosures implicated a woman in the French embassy in Canberra; the French promptly had her arrested and sent back to France for trial. Insisting that the woman was "likely" innocent, Evatt unabashedly wired the French Premier to suggest a careful investigation. Angrily the French fired back an official protest to the Australian government. It was a final straw for the Royal Commissioners; they barred Evatt from the hearings.

By last week it was apparent that Evatt's antics had hurt him in the country and weakened his hold on the Labor Party leadership. At 60, robust and rambunctious Herbert Vere Evatt was in the fight of his life, a fight to prove that his future is not all behind him.

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