Dad [Edward Robert Pocock AM] - The Rhodes Scholarships

1

Dad [Edward Robert Pocock AM]

[Apologise for length – as purely objective observer I think he was fascinating and couldn’t do him justice in
only one or two pages.]

As a number of you may know, Dad wrote but never fully finished a book, when he retired. Not content with
an easy task, Dad chose to write about a number of historical figures who interested him, each one in a
different part of the world and in a different century, covering the span of a thousand years. These
characters - some famous (or infamous), some obscure - were generally involved in some inter-cultural
connection or exchange – good, bad, intentional or coincidental. Dad wrote in the preamble to the book:

It seems to me that no nation or religion or race has had a monopoly, or even a consistently good
track record, when it has come to understanding, tolerance or just plain good behaviour. However,
many of my characters, sometimes in very small ways, sometimes in most unexpected ones, showed
an attractive gift for intellectual curiosity, which was part of their appeal, whatever else they were up
to. They also raise in varying degrees the question whether individuals really make a difference. I
think the commonsense answer is that they can and do, though not always in the way they intend or
may claim to be doing.

Dad’s life was extraordinarily varied, and as geographically diverse as the characters in his book; he
also shared their gift for intellectual curiosity. I think, in his own small way, he did make a
difference – although perhaps unlike some of his characters, it was usually in exactly the way he
intended.

Australia 1934-1956

Dad was born 14 March 1934 in Yorketown SA. He grew up in Mt Gambier, where his father was
the postman. His childhood was not happy - his father was violent and unfaithful to his beloved
mother Emily; and at school he was bullied because his grandfather was the principal. I suspect his
intellect and acerbic wit probably didn't help with the bullying. His way to beat the bullies was a
fierce determination to work harder and be smarter than any of them (or anyone else).

These key traits - the sharp intellect, steely determination, acerbic wit, and dislike for bullies
(whether they were individuals or governments) - continued for the rest of his life. He didn’t accept
the conventional wisdom, and had to find things out for himself. His friend Cavan Hogue
remembered him for “his mordant sense of humour and his not very successful attempts to hide a
warm and compassionate personality under a cynical exterior.”

Dad was in some ways the most undiplomatic of diplomats - which I think was part of the reason he
was so good at it.

2

From primary school, Dad won a place at Adelaide Boys High, where he finished dux, going on to St
Marks College at Adelaide University, where he won the University Medal and then the South
Australian Rhodes Scholarship in 1956.

University: Oxford 1956-1958; Princeton and Berkeley 1958-1959

Dad's time as a Rhodes Scholar at Balliol College in Oxford was a highlight (he was planning to go to
the Balliol 750th anniversary celebrations later this year). The intellectual stimulation at Oxford
was intoxicating - not only due to the tutors/lecturers (who included Isaiah Berlin) but also to his
fellow students, many of whom were in fact American, and have remained close friends to this day.

Between his studies (at which he continued to excel), he still found time for rowing with the Oxford
Blues (looking at him you might not have guessed he was a rower - but to be fair, it was as cox).
Like many generations before him, he also stayed out in pubs after curfew and had to climb back in
over the College wall - on one occasion getting caught by a bobby, who proceeded to instruct Dad
on the best way to undo the latch on the window he was trying to climb through.

Dad's love for America and Americans was cemented three years later when he won a Harkness
(Commonwealth) Fellowship to study at Princeton in 1958. He was given accommodation, a living
allowance and a car, and was told "this is primarily a cultural exchange so study what you like and
have fun", which by all accounts he did, exploring America on various road trips with friends during
breaks.

It was a time of ferment in Civil Rights, and on one memorable occasion during a road-trip, with
Oliver Johns (an American mate from Oxford) they were camping on the lawn of a property in the
Southern US with permission of the owner's wife; but when her husband came home he formed
the view that they must all be Commies come to liberate the slaves, pulled out a gun and ran them
out of town.

Home to DFAT

Dad had a bit of a stop-start engagement with the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade,
originally joining in 1959, then leaving to start a PhD at Oxford (on African studies of all things),
then quitting that and finally coming back to DFAT in 1961.

Once he had decided to stay though, he stayed for the next 36 years - of which he would say
gleefully in retirement, he only spent 6 in Canberra.

Fresh from the States in 59, Dad made quite a splash when he first landed in conservative Canberra
- in no small part due to his Princeton-acquired preppy fashion sense: button-down shirt with
narrow tie, long pastel Madras shorts, white bobby socks and boat-shoes.

He remained a sharp-dresser to the end.

3

Cairo 1962-63

Dad's first posting was in Cairo in 1962. It was just after the Suez Crisis and still somewhat tense.

As with all his postings though, he was determined to learn, explore and enjoy the experience. He
bought a little red MG sports-car, which he used to zip down to the Red Sea for picnics, or up to the
valley of Kings and further to the Aswan Dam, with friends. I think it was in Cairo that well-meaning
friends thought he should settle down, and introduced him to Miss Piggy the belly dancer.
Needless to say, it was a non-starter.

New York and the UN - 1963-67

From Cairo, Dad went back to the States in 1963 - to the Australian Mission to the UN in New York.
He loved New York, the centre of everything.

The work at the UN was exciting - he was there for the 6 Day War, and used to tell the story that
the Israelis were advancing so fast across the desert that a rumour was spreading through the
General Assembly that the Italians had already surrendered.

Because the General Assembly was in alphabetical order, he sometimes sat next to Kurt Waldheim,
who went on to become Secretary General of the UN and later President of Austria - before his Nazi
past was exposed. Dad thought Waldheim was a dope - the worst of sins.

Dad loved the social and cultural life in New York too. Having sold his red MG in Cairo, he bought a
green mustang convertible, spent weekends in the Adirondaks with friends, and nights in Jazz bars.
One night in February 1965 he was in a bar when someone ran in and yelled "You need to get the
hell out of here, someone has just shot Malcolm X around the corner".

Dad also entertained. On one occasion, he invited his boss and boss’s wife to dinner, and if you can
believe it, cooked them TV Dinners – which he managed to burn, still in their foil. It was the end of
Dad’s career in the kitchen; fortunately his career with the Department survived. However, his love
of overcooked meats continued to the end…

Cambodia 1967-69

After New York, Dad was posted to Phnom Penh in 1967. He hated it, largely because he wanted to
be where the main game was, next door in Vietnam. Ironically though, he probably made a bigger
impact in Cambodia at the time than he could have in Vietnam.

Prince Sihanouk had declared Cambodia neutral in the war between North and South Vietnam. The
US diplomatic mission had been expelled, and Australia was representing US interests in Cambodia.
Dad’s Ambassador at the time was charmed by Sihanouk, who declared that no Viet Cong weapons

4

or personnel were moving through Cambodian territory, which was duly reported back to Canberra
as fact.

Dad didn’t buy it, and decided to do some undercover investigating – in his green Mustang
convertible which he had brought across from New York! He soon tracked down arms shipments
coming through the port at Sihanoukville, and later, he and Hugh Dunn drove the Mustang across
towards the Vietnam border to look for VC troops, where they duly bumped into the Ho Chi Minh
trail! Beating a hasty retreat, the car swerved off the road and went sideways into a deep ditch.
After scrambling out through a window, they managed to stumble into a rubber plantation where,
in a scene reminiscent of the film Apocalypse Now, the French owners were still clinging on. The
plantation owners fed them and pulled the car out of the ditch with a tractor, almost unscratched,
and they drove off.

Dad reported his findings back to Canberra, even though they were contrary to his Ambassador’s
reporting on the position. The Americans were clearly impressed with Dad’s work and
subsequently flew him regularly to Vietnam to give briefings.

Canberra 1969-71

On returning to Canberra in 1969, Dad bought a 40-acre block of land on Mac’s Reef Road, then a
potholed dirt track on the way to Bungendore, and a good 45 minute drive outside of Canberra. He
enlisted the help of friends to clear stumps, and built a beautiful modern (1 bedroom!) house, that
he designed, on the top of the hill.

The place was soon called Hawk Hill (a moniker originally given by some wags in the Department of
different political persuasion, referring to Dad's views at the time on Vietnam).

Many friends made the trek out to Hawk Hill for barbecues of burnt meat, and adventures with
their kids. Most of Dad's friends were married with children by this time, and Dad became
"Uncleteddypocock" - everyone's favourite bachelor - to a generation of DFAT kids: Holdiches,
Pelham-Thormans, Millers, Wawns and others.

Mum

By this time, Dad was 35 and still single. Most of his friends had just about given up on
matchmaking, despite years of trying. Fortunately though, not everyone had given up on him, and
at a party in late 1969, he was introduced to a beautiful young woman, Margaret Grosvenor, who
shared his love of travel.

It was pretty much love at first sight. After having only met on about three occasions (albeit over
almost a year), Dad flew out to Bali, where Mum was teaching English at Universitas Udayana, and
proposed to her – more from Mum on that later.

5

It was not an auspicious start – he forgot his wallet and Mum (who was earning a dollar a month)
had to pay for the dinner. After a short period of flutters, she agreed, and they were married in
January 1971. The romance was so fast that one of Mum’s aunt’s commented knowingly to my
Grandmother “You can't complain Betty, you always wanted grandchildren.” For the record, I was
born a respectable 13 months later.

Mum was Dad's soul-mate, and both complemented and completed him - rounding off some of
Dad's sharper edges. Mum also shared Dad's curiosity and desire to explore and discover the world,
and his love for the arts. Perhaps more importantly though, she was prepared to save face for him
at overseas dinner parties by eating the "foreign muck" that Dad so detested.

I have no doubt that much of Dad's success later in his career was due to Mum - they were a true
team.

Vietnam October 1971- October 1973

Some 9 months after they were married, Dad got his wish and was finally posted to Saigon in late
1971. It was a chaotic time both politically and at home. The South Vietnamese Government was
oppressive and unstable and Dad had already begun to question the outcome of the war (having
written a controversial internal thought-piece on it in 1970). Saigon was covered with barbed wire,
and there was a constant threat of bicycle bombs and rocket attacks. On one occasion, a VC
saboteur got into the main ammunition dump across the river and blew it up – the explosions
continued for 13 hours and blew all the windows of our apartment in.

On the home front, the chaos was of a more pleasant nature: I was born at a US army hospital in
February 1972, with lots of special care and attention from army doctors and nurses who were
thrilled to be bringing a life into the world in the midst of such carnage. Emily followed only 14
months later, in April 1973. She was born at the same hospital, but 3 weeks after the main US
withdrawal, and there were no doctors around; so Dad and a Vietnamese nurse had to deliver Emily
– with a little help from Mum

Paris 1973-1976

After Vietnam, a change of scene, when Dad was posted to Paris in late 1973 – in a role with the
OECD, despite the fact that he had no background in economics. (He took a copy of Samuelson to
the hospital with him while Mum was in labour with Emily, trying to get himself up to speed!)

We had a magical family time in France, especially time spent with Mum’s parents, who rented
Memillon, a cottage at a chateau outside Chartres, in the French countryside.

Canberra 1976-1980

In late 1976, Dad returned to Canberra for three years – his last stint there.

6

We lived in at Hawk Hill - but after a couple of months trying to cram us all into the one bedroom
house, including visits from Mum's parents, Dad extended the house to accommodate us all.

Dad joined the volunteer bushfire brigade, and I remember him going to help fight bushfires in the
area - making firm friends with some of our neighbours on surrounding properties in the process.

Seoul 1980-1984

In 1980, Dad got his first Ambassadorial posting, as Ambassador to the Republic of Korea - which
remains one of Mum’s favourite postings.

Korea at the time was a military dictatorship, then under President Chun Du Wan. Notwithstanding
his autocratic rule, Chun appointed a number of brilliant US-educated economists to his cabinet, to
start the process of modernising the Korean economy. Through volunteer work folding bandages
for the Red Cross, Mum got to know and befriend the brilliant wives of many of these cabinet
ministers, and as a result Dad often had some of the best intelligence in foreign diplomatic circles
about what was happening in Korea. (Tragically several of their husbands were killed by the North
Koreans in a bomb attack in Rangoon in October 1983, which was intended for Chun. Chun was
running late and they missed him.) Mum and Dad had been about to head to Seoul to catch up
with some of these remarkable women and other Korean friends in only a couple of weeks from
now.

Dad also took a strong stand for human rights and supporting dissidents in Korea – something he
would take up with passion again later in Moscow. On one occasion, the Foreign Minister Bill
Hayden was scheduled to visit Seoul, and Dad had organised for him to meet with a number of
Korean dissidents and opposition leaders at our house. Chun got wind of this and said he would
not permit the meeting, even threatening to expel Dad from the country. Dad told the Korean
Foreign Ministry that if Hayden could not meet with the dissidents, the whole 3-day Ministerial visit
would be cancelled. He did this knowing that Hayden was already in the air on the way, and
uncontactable. The situation became very tense, and was escalated up the chain of command,
culminating in a secret meeting in a hotel room with the Korean Foreign Minister, the wonderfully
named Lee Bum Suk - who to his credit, and at some personal risk given Chun's opposition, agreed
that the meeting could go ahead. Chun threatened to sack Lee but didn’t; sadly, he was one of
those killed soon after in Rangoon.

Moscow 1984-1987

After Seoul, Dad was appointed Australian Ambassador to the Soviet Union - and also Mongolia,
which Dad loved visiting via the Trans-Siberian Railway – armed with a bottle of Dettol for the
bathroom, packets of instant noodle soup, and plenty of vodka.

7

This was in many ways one of Dad’s favourite postings – both because of the fascinating times
when we were there, but also because of the brilliant team he had working with him (although he
of course had some fantastic teams in other posts too).

We arrived in Moscow in 1984. Brezhnev had died only 2 years earlier, to be replaced by Andropov,
who lasted only 2 years and had just been replaced by the unmemorable Chernyenko. It was still
the depths of the cold war and there was no indication of any change on the horizon. However a
year later, after only one short year in office, Chernyenko also died. (Dad went to the official funeral
ceremony, and said that the body was completely surrounded by flowers and laid at an angle so all
you could see was this enormous nose projecting out.) Chernyenko was replaced by the much
younger and relatively unknown Mikhail Gorbachev. At first, he looked like being more of the same
(giving turgid 6 hour speeches broadcast live for your entertainment). However, following the
Chernobyl disaster, things started to change, and we were able to witness the first green shoots of
Glasnost and Perestroika. But the change was slow and the outcome far from certain.

As in Korea, Dad took a strong stance with the Soviets on human rights, and befriended a number
of dissidents and “refuseniks” – many (but not all) of them Jewish intellectuals who had applied for
visas to travel or emigrate and been “refused” – losing everything (jobs, friends, apartments) in the
process. Their best protection came from the friendship of 2-3 western diplomats like Dad who
were prepared to stick their necks out, ensuring that the Sovs knew we were watching them.

Most of the dissidents we befriended survived and were subsequently able to leave the Soviet
Union (in the late 80s) settling in the US and Israel - I would like to think at least in part due to Dad's
efforts.

Dad loved needling the Sovs, and his only spoken Russian was a short poem by Pushkin about
freedom, which Dad had memorised phonetically. He quoted it whenever he could at official
events including once on national television.

On another occasion, during the 40th anniversary celebrations for the end of World War II, Dad
interrupted yet another interminable lecture from a Soviet official about how the glorious Soviet
Army had defeated the Nazi plague - to remind him that Australia been fighting the Nazis since
1939, when the USSR was still in a non-aggression pact with them. The lecture stopped.

Despite all this, Dad managed to develop some very effective relationships with Soviet officials, to
the point where, at a farewell function, Mum and Dad invited 1/3 Soviet officials, 1/3 dissidents and
refuseniks, and 1/3 Australian and other western diplomats – and the Soviets all came.

Dad had a brilliant team of diplomats working with him in Moscow; and while most Western
embassies (including the US, UK and NZ) were telling their people to limit and report every contact
with Soviet citizens, Dad encouraged his staff to go out and find out what was really happening –
which they did, organising film festivals, making contact with underground subcultures, and testing

8

the economy by finding out the price of black-market vodka. As a consequence, the Australian
Embassy had some of the best intelligence on what was really happening in the Soviet Union.

Another highlight for Dad in Moscow was the arts – frequently going to the Bolshoi Ballet, the
opera or symphonies. In addition, Mum and Dad thoroughly enjoyed visits by Australian artists –
composers, writers, musicians like Dene and Irina, and dancers like David McAllister and Eliabeth
Toohey. Given the poor condition of Soviet accommodation, Mum and Dad invited a number of
them to stay with us, in the process becoming friends.

Paris 1987-1990

In 1987, we were posted again to Paris. At the time, tensions with France were high due to their
nuclear testing in the South Pacific, and our push for an independence referendum in New
Caledonia - to the point where the Embassy (which we lived in) was actually attacked one night by a
small but angry mob. However, these good causes enabled Dad to exercise one of his favourite
past-times: poking the French government in the eye.

But the strongest reaction he got to any Australian actions was to a TV documentary about culling
of wild brumbies in Australia, which resulted in a torrent of vitriolic letters and criticism, including
from Brigitte Bardot.

While in Paris (where he was also Ambassador to UNESCO), Dad played a role in the World Heritage
listing of the Great Barrier Reef, in the process meeting Jacques Cousteau on several occasions,
whom Dad found utterly charming.

Mum and Dad remained involved in the arts in Paris, engaging with visiting Australian artists
including Peter Sculthorpe, John Coburn, Sam Ateyo, and again the Australia Ensemble.

Dad also had a nasty health scare in Paris - undergoing triple bypass surgery in 1989 for arteries
that were 96, 97 and 99% blocked. It took him some 6 months to fully recover.

Pakistan 1990-1991

At some point in all of this, Dad had rubbed someone in the Department up the wrong way, and in
1990 was posted to Islamabad for what would surely be his last posting.

Dad found Pakistan interesting but depressing - both because of the dismal state of affairs there,
but also because it was at the time (pre 9/11) a backwater of little strategic significance for
Australia, and he knew that even if he were to do the most brilliant political analysis and reporting
no-one would really care.

I remember though one memorable dinner when Emily and I were visiting Mum and Dad in
Islamabad. Gough Whitlam was in town for some reason (Mum and Dad had become friends with

9

Gough and Margaret in Paris), and we had a small dinner with the four Pococks, Gough, Benazir
Bhutto (then opposition leader), Benazir's formidable mother the Begum Bhutto, and their escort,
an elegant elderly gentleman named Yakub Khan, the former Pakistani Foreign Minister. It was a
fascinating night, but it was the suave Yakub Khan who stole the show, charming Emily in fluent
English, French and Russian, and regaling us with tales from his time as a Rat of Tobruk, and then
serving on Lord Mountbatten's staff at the time of India's independence - including about Lady
Mountbatten's affair with Nehru.

After only about 6 months in Pakistan, Dad got a call out of the blue: Gareth Evans (then Foreign
Minister) wanted him for the EU in Brussels – was he interested? It took Dad a full quarter of a
second to decide.

Brussels 1991-1995

The last 4 years of Dad's career were spent in Brussels - in some way the perfect last posting:
interesting and challenging work, good food, and close to London and Paris.

One thing which Dad got a lot of satisfaction from, both in Paris and in Brussels, was visiting the
battlefields of the First World War for ANZAC Day, and attending ceremonies in little villages where
so many young Australians had given their lives – Villers-Brettoneux, Bullecourt, Fromelles, and
Ypres amongst others. He was genuinely touched by the way that generations of villagers in these
remote corners kept alive the memory of Australian sacrifices so long ago.

Retirement - Sydney 1995-2013

Now, some of you who worked with him may have noticed, but Dad used to stress about his work.
I remember him telling me that right up to his last day on the job he would get flutters checking his
cables/mail/email in the morning, half expecting someone to have realised he was a fraud and
didn’t know what he was doing. I think that's a large part of what drove his perfectionism.

When he retired in 1995, all that stress went away, and consequently his last 18 years were
amongst his happiest. Dad wrote a book about people and places that interested him - and re-
wrote it, then re-wrote it again - even though the first draft was fantastic. Again, that
perfectionism. Unfortunately he never finished it to his full satisfaction, although Emily is working
on the final edits and hopes to have it ready for publication (even just privately) in a few months.

The writing of Dad’s book largely halted in 2004 with the arrival of his first Grandchild. Dad then
became a writer and illustrator of many gorgeous books of poetry and stories for his Grandchildren,
which will remain treasured by all four.

Notwithstanding the odd health scare, including another large brain haemorrhage that Dad
miraculously survived almost unscathed 5 years ago, Mum and Dad continued to travel extensively,

10

using Emily and Paul's house in London as a European base. In addition to visits to friends and
favourite places in Korea, Moscow, Europe and the US, their trips included more adventurous
locations, on different occasions going around India by train for 3 months, travelling through Iran,
far western China, Libya, and also back to Cambodia. We also had some wonderful family holidays
together in Venice and also in Bali, including for Dad's 75th and my 40th.

Dad as a Dad

To finish, a couple of words about Dad as a dad.

Dad was a devoted – almost besotted – father. After I was born, he wrote and told everyone he
knew – half of whom wrote back to say “Congratulations! We didn’t even know you were
married!”. His children were always a central focus of Dad’s life, and Emily and I adored him. He
used to spoil us rotten – in part a reaction to his own unhappy childhood. Dad used to read to us
almost every night until we were in our early teens; and having dinner together as a family was
sacred, whenever official duties did not interrupt. He spent huge amounts of time and effort in
planning the most extraordinary and magical family holidays in amazing locations.

As we grew up, he and Mum embraced our friends, and of course and especially my Min and
Emily’s Paul; and he was a doting grandfather who was dearly loved by his four grandchildren -
Theo, Fin, Sophie and Toby.

We will all miss him.