Richardson: The sickness at our nation’s heart
The political carcass of Tony Abbott was still warm when attention turned to how long Bill Shorten could now survive.
He can’t beat Turnbull, came the cry.
So Labor will surely dump him.
But for whom?
And when?
Rupert Murdoch, a man with some semblance of influence in the national media scene, articulated the general theme on the night of the coup, tweeting for the world to see that Turnbull must call a November election – “before Labor sacks Shorten”.
This is not as easy as Rupert implies. Under changes made by the once-bitten Kevin Rudd when he returned, briefly, to the leadership, the party needs the assent of 60 per cent of the ALP caucus for a spill motion to carry against an Opposition Leader. If the party is in Government, the required quota – for now – would be 75 per cent.
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But regardless, the fact that Shorten’s longevity became the next great political focus of our increasingly short-attention-spanned commentariat is symptomatic of a sickness emanating from our nation’s political heart.
That sickness explains our extraordinary run of form with national leadership: Turnbull is our fourth in five years through the Prime Ministerial revolving door.
The four that preceded them stayed in office a combined 32 years.
Surely this cannot merely be explained by the comparative crappiness of our recent leaders.
In its editorial last week, The Saturday Paper dismissed Abbott as “the worst Prime Minister Australia has had”, which is arguable but more arguably a reflection of that journal’s ideological bent.
But it’s certainly true that there is little to show for Abbott’s two years but intentions, both good and bad.
If Abbott is the worst, though, the two before him could conceivably be vying for a podium finish, at least of anyone since the early 1970s.
If you accept that proposition, the question becomes a larger inquiry about just what has happened to federal politics. Is the talent pool shallower, and if so why? Are politicians more risk averse and timidly populist, and if so why? Is the media more personality focused and preoccupied by fluff and melodrama? Yes, but why?
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As with anything, the answers are complex and convoluted, but it is important to consider the questions lest we find ourselves in an endless cycle of barracking from the sidelines while our underwhelming elected representatives knife their underwhelming leaders.
Yes, the talent pool is shallower because the contest is more superficial and brutal than ever before and only a career party hack or an emotionally-stunted masochist would find the allure of such a calling appealing. Yes, politicians are more risk averse, because every mistake is amplified in a reporting environment where a new story or a new angle is not sought merely daily but hourly, or quarter-hourly. Gaffes are no longer mere policy retreats but mangled words and phrases, and such frivolities lead national bulletins. It is telling that Kim Beazley, the last Labor leader who survived in the role for any significant period, was ultimately ousted not because the party was trailing (it wasn’t) or because his colleagues doubted his policy agenda (they didn’t) but because he had a senior moment and called a grieving celebrity by the wrong name.
For that, the Labor Party subjected itself to perhaps its most turbulent, spiteful era since the DLP split (albeit most of it spent in relative power). How apt that a choice based, finally, on such a flimsy pretext ushered in an era of spinelessness, frivolity and chaos.
But if politics is changing, the reporting of it is changing too, and one influences the other. The press gallery – which might more aptly be called the media gallery – is a surging beast, which chases its own tail like an over-excited gnashing hound. Reporters rise from their slumber to deliver updates to breakfast television on the state of the nation, which given the time of day they pilfer wholesale from the morning’s papers, which are of course fed their stories by conniving politicians and their staff. The breakfast agenda rolls on throughout the day, with no-one having a moment to pause for breath and question the inevitability of it all. No wonder the media gallery tacitly barracks for leadership spills: they’re about the only thing that break the daily drudgery.
One hopes the ascension of Malcolm Turnbull, despite the integral role he’s played in national life over this recent forgettable era, might mark a break with the past eight or more years.
He is, for a start, the first party leader since Hewson to have been an unparalleled success in a variety of other professional endeavours before even thinking about taking on political life.
For Hewson, it must be noted that did not translate to political success (unless we acknowledge that merely getting to the leadership is a success in itself). We have, then, something of a novelty; someone in the Prime Minister’s chair who has been a high-achiever in something other than politics.
Moreover, Turnbull is getting an armchair ride because, frankly, he’s the answer to the prayers of every ideological faction in the national media. The left love him because he’s a progressive centrist at heart, even if he’s actually politically obliged not to do anything about it. For, after all, much of our political passion is driven by intent rather than action.
And the right like him because he’s the best chance for their favoured party to win re-election, which despite the odd kamikaze militant Tory who would rather be in perpetual opposition than allow a sop to any moderate causes, is still broadly considered a fairly positive outcome in politics.
But all of this is neither here nor there; it is merely celebrating at the altar of political celebrity, which is what we’ve learnt to do these days. That is the sum of our political debate: who is leader? Are they likeable? Do we like someone else more? If so, how can we replace one for the other, and when?
Turnbull can break the mould, but only by delivering a positive vision, genuine policy achievement, and ultimately by hanging onto his job long enough to not be forced to drive the economy with one eye constantly looking back over his shoulder.
In the current environment that would not merely be a success; it would be a miracle.
Tom Richardson is a senior journalist at InDaily. His political column is published on Fridays.
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