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Regular readers of this column will remember how, a year ago, our friends at the Plymouth Brethren Christian Church started a PR campaign in response to “misinformation in the media”.
Making this church, formerly known as Exclusive Brethren, look good was always going to be a big ask. It preaches a radical doctrine of separation from the world, under which its members are urged to hate the rest of us because of the risk of “contamination and defilement”, while extracting as much financial benefit as it can under another doctrine called “spoiling the Egyptians”.
And even though its members don’t vote, it ordered thousands of them onto the streets to “volunteer” for the Liberal Party during the federal election campaign, without declaring who they were.
Well, over the summer recess, there have been a few updates to the PR push. Secret tape recordings of sermons by Bruce Hales, the church’s Grand Poobah (real titles: Man of God, Elect Vessel, Paul of our Day) show him pronouncing to his flock that “trying to maintain a reputation – it’s never appealed to me”.
“I’ve always thought trying to maintain a reputation was a bane. Basically worthless,” he said.
But that might come as a surprise to his loyal functionary, church spokesman Lloyd Grimshaw, who spent last year squiring friendly media outlets through the church’s previously top secret services and producing a series of mind-numbingly dull podcasts professing how normal they all are. Grimshaw did not respond to a request for comment.
It also might come as a surprise to the church’s Rapid Relief Team. This is a registered charity that hands out refreshments at natural disasters – and with Australia’s season of bushfires and floods, they’ve had a busy summer. A cynic would suggest the real reasons for RRT’s existence is to make the church look good, to justify its charitable status and to curry favour with politicians.
The church has even drawn the attention of the Australian Taxation Office in recent years.
You would think it would have to work pretty hard to curry favour with Anthony Albanese, who called the church a “cult” during the election campaign. And yet, there was Albo pictured at the Victorian fire front with an RRT snack and chatting away to one of the PBCC’s local nabobs – photos the church was quick to upload onto its Facebook page.
“RRT volunteers … were greeted and cheered on by a friendly visit from the PM Anthony Albanese, showing support for our community and recovery efforts,” the caption said.
The Prime Minister’s Office would not be drawn on whether Albanese was aware of who he was pictured with, or whether he stands by his description of the church as a “cult”, as he did last year.
But a government spokesman did offer up this line: “It’s up to the Liberal Party to explain what the arrangements were and what promises were made to this group to reward their significant investment in the Liberal Party’s campaign.”
Our colleague, chief photographer Kate Geraghty, later saw the RRT PR push in action on the police line surrounding the apparent domestic violence triple murder at Lake Cargelligo.
The RRT’s local leader, Rod Martin, showed up at the police tape near where Sophie Quinn and John Harris had been shot dead. He introduced himself to the media and said his team was available if journalists wanted to do a story about RRT relief efforts. Then he offered food to police and the media.
We’re not sure exactly how all this squares with the Brethren’s big boss saying: “We don’t really want to pursue favourable reporting.” Maybe that scripture has not yet had time to penetrate the regions.
When we asked the church for a comment, it said: “The Plymouth Brethren Christian Church declines to comment, other than to say – no one in our church is interested in reputation or image. What we are interested in is letting people know the facts about us after years of misreporting.”
Ex-News Corper’s garage sale
Life after News Corp can be tough. Just ask any of the ex-editors and executives who make up a graveyard of Murdoch formers, and the many more who have turned their previous employment into a crusading identity.
Among the most recent to join the club is John McGourty, defenestrated as part of the publisher’s most recent cull.
Of course, the cull we’re referring to occurred in 2024, when the Australian outpost of News Corp called in PwC to reorganise the business as part of a plan then aimed at saving in the order of $65 million. The restructure hit a number of high-profile editors and executives, of which McGourty was among the most senior, as the group director of News Corp’s “editorial innovation centre”.
Now, it would seem, the McGourty household is dispensing with some of the excesses of times past. We were dutifully informed that McGourty has taken to flogging some of his luxury household items. Up for grabs was a Hermes chess set priced to go at $3250 (since sold!) and a designer “Nerocactus” made by Gufram, for just $4500. “One of only 500 made,” read McGourty’s ad caption, on Facebook marketplace no less.
When asked to comment, McGourty was suspicious that these listings were even newsworthy, before calling the line of inquiry “weird”.
All in good jest, we said. He explained the sales came as part of some good old-fashioned decluttering. “You start the new year, and you’re kind of decluttering your life, and there’s some things I want to declutter as I downsize,” he said.
The former News Corp man spent more than two decades at the Murdoch-controlled publisher, after moving from Scotland in the late 1990s. He started his News Corp Australia career at The Daily Telegraph, where he ascended to deputy editor, before heading into corporate roles.
As things stand, we can’t decide which of these tasks is tougher: innovating at News Corp, or finding a market for his Nerocactus.
Summer spots
The favourite lunchtime haunts of the nation’s bankers and politicians tend to get quiet heading into Christmas and on through January, leaving behind a string of empty tables. Still, there were a couple of familiar faces seen around town over the summer break.
Among them was one of this column’s favourites, former Long Bay jailbird turned venture capitalist Rodney Adler. The former high-flyer was seen hobnobbing at the Grill Americano just before Christmas. The Adler redemption arc keeps on giving, but his office was not interested in talking to us.
It was only a couple of weeks later that Australia’s top law officer was spotted out at Neptune’s Grotto, in Sydney’s CBD, with an as yet unidentified lunchmate. Attorney-General Michelle Rowland was spied in a booth next to the bar on January 14 with a bald, stocky friend. No dice on who it was or what they were discussing – and her office was in no mood to enlighten us.
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John Buckley is a CBD columnist for The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age.Connect via email.
Rachael Dexter is a journalist in the City team at The Age. Contact her at rachael.dexter@theage.com.au, rachaeldexter@protonmail.com, or via Signal at @rachaeldexter.58Connect via Facebook or email.From our partners
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