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a life less ordinary .....The Prime Minister will spend Christmas doing ''very ordinary things'' with her family at home in Adelaide, she told the broadcaster John Laws last week. ''[We] watch DVDs together, have family meals, read books, you know all of that kind of stuff. Just very normal, quiet, at-home activities,'' she said. Julia Gillard's ordinariness, or lack thereof, has been a constant motif in the narrative of her leadership. On the one hand, her status as an average Australian is something upon which she seems to insist. Witness her red-brick Altona home, her flat vowel sounds, her role as vegetable-peeler-in-chief at the Gillard family Christmas lunch, and her simple preference to be in an Australian classroom rather than fancy-pantsing around the globe on foreign affairs matters. And yet for all her alleged ordinariness, Gillard has failed this year to come across as personable or, to use a dreadful American word, relatable. To her credit, Gillard doesn't do a lot of the cringeworthy ''I'm just a regular guy'' stuff so many politicians try on - such as Rudd's infamous displays of blokey swearing when in the company of the working man. The biggest peek we had into the Prime Minister's private life came in the form of the excruciating 60 Minutes interview she did with her partner Tim Mathieson. It was an unnatural and deeply awkward televisual foray, during which Gillard was asked if she truly loved her man, a question John Laws echoed when he asked her last week about her personal affection for the dude she knocked off as PM. The latter question Gillard declined to answer because she objected to ''the pop psychology of it all'', implying that personal feelings were irrelevant to the serious business of running the country. But wanting to know how your leader feels about things is pretty normal. Ordinary, even. Perhaps this fixation with Gillard's personal feelings towards the men in her life is an effort to get at the real woman - we only wonder what she really feels because we think she's hiding that from us. One suspects Gillard is a private person. Some say she is shy. But one thing she is not, is ordinary. The Prime Minister, and indeed all politicians seeking the top job, should just drop all pretensions to being bog-standard. With a few exceptions, most parliamentarians have spent the large majority of their lives in politics, or as union or party officials planning to enter politics. They are mostly male, spend 20-odd weeks a year away from their families, and are paid far, far more handsomely than the average Australian (base salary for a backbencher being, as of last week, a whopping $185,000). They never have to worry about money or mortgages, they (usually) fly business class and they have a ready-made pulpit (Parliament) in which to air any grievances they might have. They also, for better or worse, possess an unshakeable belief that they can change the world for the better. No, politicians are not like us. And why on earth would we want them to be? Given the dire political debate we've had this year, maybe it's too much to ask our elected representatives to dazzle us with their extraordinariness. But can't we at least put forward a meek plea for them to be better-than-average? Smarter than average, more dedicated and hard-working than the norm, possessing of greater integrity and moral backbone than your average Joe? Gillard is all these things, as is her opposition counterpart (although you might debate the moral strength of either or both). So why pretend otherwise? The simple answer is that Australians lop down tall poppies, an argument often advanced for why Malcolm Turnbull will never be accepted by Coalition voters as leader - he is too smart, too rich, too successful. But Australia's best prime ministers - John Howard, Bob Hawke, Robert Menzies, Ben Chifley, John Curtin - we recognise as extraordinary people. As Gillard said of Barack Obama in the same John Laws interview, the US President probably always shone a little more brightly than his fellow man. ''I suspect if you had met President Obama before the days of his presidency … you probably would have still said 'Here is someone special','' she said. It could be I'm just grumpy because, despite being in the press gallery for almost a year, I received only one Christmas card from the people I am paid to mock (Thanks, Anthony Albanese, and Merry Christmas to you too.) Or maybe, like so many of my countrymen, I'm grumpy because the level of debate this year has been so appallingly base. But as we lurch towards year's end, I ask our politicians for the greatest Yuletide gift of all: please, stop being so bloody ordinary.
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x-mas flakes .....
from Crikey …..
Keane's 2011: year of the flake
Crikey Canberra correspondent Bernard Keane writes:
JULIA GILLARD, TONY ABBOTT, WAYNE SWAN
A couple of weeks ago, the good folk at Essential did their routine approval rating questions, when they ask punters to rate the performance of the Prime Minister and the Opposition Leader and ask which they’d prefer as PM. You know the drill.
Julia Gillard’s performance was approved by 34% of voters; 54% of voters disapproved of her performance. She had worse numbers in September, her nadir with voters. In the interval, her approval had risen a little, but fallen back again. It’s unlikely to have improved in the wake of the Reshuffle from Hell.
Tony Abbott had his worst ever rating: 32% of people approved of his performance. 53% disapproved.
Gillard leads Abbott as preferred Prime Minister narrowly, 39% to 35%. Meanwhile, 26%, the highest ever, say they don’t know whom they prefer.
The near-alignment of those figures is telling. Voters simply can’t abide either of these people.
The reason, one suspects, is that voters think that they are, for different reasons, a couple of flakes.
You’ll recall back in April Gillard gave that strange speech at Luna Park to the Sydney Institute (yes, I still struggle to believe I typed that) centred on the holiness of manual labour and the Prime Minister’s hard-driving ethos of rising early and getting to work, purely for the joy of it. Perhaps because of the derision it earned from latte-sipping inner-urban elitists, this sub-Thatcherite elevation of suburban self-flagellation to the level of national aspiration thereafter vanished from the prime ministerial vocabulary. This, unfortunately, deprived us of further examples of what Gillard Labor’s jaundiced eye might alight on and contrast, inevitably unfavourably, with the sanctity of being a tradie.
Indeed, all efforts by Gillard to discuss any kind of personal narrative disappeared thereafter. Instead, it seemed, she preferred to live out her narrative of self-punishment, working hard to carry her government into dark caverns of unpopularity seldom explored by other prime ministers as part of her "year of decision and delivery". This politics of masochism was primarily a consequence of her commitment to a carbon pricing package, something she’d ruled out with a certain ferocity before the last election but to which she was forced to return by the Greens.
The whole business played so badly for her because it complemented two existing stereotypes about Gillard, that she was ruthless and prepared to do anything to secure power, and that she didn’t believe, particularly, in anything much at all.
While she’s no longer accosted by shopping mall shrews determined to harangue her, and the “witch” and “Bob Brown’s bitch” posters have now been carefully stored in lavender-scented drawers, she has never recovered her standing with the public.
The problem with Tony Abbott is not so much that he believes in nothing, but that he appears to believe in everything. If consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, Abbott has a brain the size of a planet, vast enough to store every possible position on any issue. The enthusiast for a carbon tax who swears a blood oath he’ll repeal the carbon pricing package. The ferocious opponent of taxes whose first substantial policy was a new tax. The small-government politician who thinks the planet is cooling (the sort of thing that requires a South Park-style “Tony Abbott actually believes this” on-screen caveat) who wants big government interventionism to stop global warming. The anti-protectionist who pleads “national security” as a reason to protect heavy manufacturing. The advocate of offshore protection who refuses to pass legislation to give effect to exactly that. The constant critic of government spending who currently has a “$60 to $70 billion” bar tab. The list goes ever on.
The career-long criticism of Abbott has been for his sternly medieval views, in which men -- usually old white men in long frocks with religious bling -- control women’s bodies. In fact, Abbott as leader has displayed a charmingly post-modern rejection of objective truth, preferring instead the more mentally-demanding world of subjective reality.
Unswayed by such philosophical broadmindedness, voters find him even less appealing than the prime minister they can’t stand.
After the 2010 federal election, characterized by high rates of informal voting and support for third parties and a common consensus that it was the worst election campaign in living memory, the general disregard for the current generation of politicians appears for the moment to be an enduring feature of our political system.
In that regard, Australian politicians have it easier than their counterparts around the globe. In most parts of the world, politicians elected and unelected alike are in bad odour, such that some talk of a general crisis of legitimacy. Dictatorships across the Middle East have been toppled, with uncertain results. European leaders, including in the UK, have deftly steered their economies into recession, and not just any bog-standard economic slowdown, but the real thing, a 1930s-style multi-year effort that will trash a generation and before it’s finished, most likely, account for several political systems. The US failure, at least, has the virtue of being more systemic, with the operation of a political system primarily designed to advance the interests of the super-wealthy and corporations thrust more clearly into the spotlight than ever, summarized in that cut-through phrase of the #occupy movement, the 1%.
Conversely, despite the malice toward Gillard and Abbott, Australians have been mostly well-served by their political leaders for much of the last three decades, with successive governments putting in place the framework for a sustained high employment/low inflation economy well-placed to benefit from the historic surge in Asian demand. If anything, it’s the perception that Gillard and Abbott can’t hold a candle to their predecessors -- indeed, not even to their immediate predecessors, if polls are to be believed -- that may underpin their deep unpopularity.
Gillard, at least, can point to a record of some achievement over the course of the year, but voters seem to intuit the innately half-baked nature of many of the things she has secured: a carbon pricing package heavily dependent on direct action (masterfully negotiated by the Greens in their successful first major outing as the balance of power party); a mining tax bastardised into a form acceptable to tax-averse multinational mining companies, a deeply compromised, micro-version of what was once the biggest health reform package since Medicare. We were promised decision and delivery; the end result was a year of compromise and concession.
An outcome on asylum seekers, of course, remained undelivered, courtesy of the High Court and, then, the Opposition, which appears content to keep playing politics with the issue no matter, it seems, how many people end up drowning.
All of this means the heavy lifting of restructuring the Australian economy has been left to the Chinese government and capital markets, courtesy of the resources boom and a surging currency, which have accelerated the multi-decade decline of heavy manufacturing. That sector lost over 5% of its workforce in the twelve months to November, the fastest ever decline barring two quarters in the depths of 1991. The high dollar also punished those sections of retail that had benefited the longest from Australians’ distance from world markets and their ability to slap huge mark-ups on imported products. But unlike the last round of major reform, in the early 1990s, the economy is growing strongly and able to absorb workers displaced from declining industries: mining is a fractional employer but other services sectors (like health) are growing fast and construction remains buoyant courtesy of the resources boom, rather than the usual source of construction industry momentum, housing.
Economic change continues apace, whether we vote for it or not, whether our political leaders embrace it or not. Their preferred option currently is a sort of sympathetic shrug, as if to say "it's not our fault, we can't stop this happening."
To this mix, however, Wayne Swan has brought something crucial: fiscal discipline. Ignore the smoke-and-mirrors trick with the 2012-13 “surplus” -- it’s a deficit, but enough of it will be spent before June 30 that, if revenue holds up, it’ll notionally be in the black. The real discipline is in the government holding rising spending down over successive years (with the painful exception of this financial year). As a result, the RBA has more room to move on interest rates and global markets, international institutions and ratings agencies are recognising Australia as a AAA-rated safe haven.
One of the characteristics of Swan’s fiscal management, and one which must endlessly p-ss him off, has been that the virtues of his budgets have rarely been apparent on Budget Night, when we tend to lavish them with lukewarm praise or criticism -- invariably that he has failed to go far enough. While we still await a real bloodbath that puts middle class welfare and ridiculous tax concessions to the sword, Swan and Treasury’s calls have usually been right when observed with the benefit of several months hindsight. So yet might his pea-and-thimble trick of bringing spending into this year to shore up his surplus next year, if the Eurozone crisis inflicts even more damage on the global economy than it is expected to.
In any event, the government’s economic management remains its strong suit. It oversees a strong, high-employment, low-inflation economy when nearly all of the developed world is struggling. But denialism is rampant, from the Opposition (unsurprisingly), from business and from the Murdoch press. The counter-narrative is of a blundering, wasteful government on a debt binge and beholden to unions. In 2011, political debate seemed to break free of any requirement for logic or evidence, from the anti-carbon tax campaigners averring climate change was all a giant conspiracy (the logical outcome of any persistent skepticism about climate change), to the Opposition’s insistence that debt was out of control even as bond yields hit record lows and Fitch’s upgraded Australia’s rating to AAA, to business stubbornly insisting Australia’s “productivity crisis” must be fixed by some WorkChoices-style labor deregulation.
When even that carbuncle on the national interest, Mitch Hooke, laments that public policy is now conducted via “a public contest through the popular media” rather than rational discussion, we know we should be worried about the overall quality of our public debate.
I suggested this time last year that Labor’s hollowness had been exposed during the course of 2010. During this year, the party fared better than its leader in that regard, displaying signs of life on asylum seekers, live exports, uranium and the economy. But its fundamental problem remains, and it is one it shares with the Liberal Party: the major parties have lost their mass membership and, with that, an organically-formed set of values. Instead, they rely on their leadership groups to drive policy (with the occasional eruption, like on same-s-x marriage).
This trend will only be exacerbated by the accelerating establishment of online communities that not so much challenge as entirely ignore the traditional party political ways of doing things. As the Labor conference vote on party reform demonstrated, 2011 differed little from 2010, or any preceding year, in this regard, as far as new thinking in the old parties went. At some point, a new entity will emerge online and start filling the gap created by the analog political incumbents. That’s been the pattern in other industries and there’s no reason to think it won’t happen in politics, too.