By ABC's Annabel Crabb
Updated December 07, 2011 16:27:40
Photo: Maintaining control over messages and perceptions is getting harder and harder for politicians. (Getty Images)
It's one thing or another, in politics.
Either you've got everything under control, in which case we in the media carry on about how you're a freakish cyborg control-freak loon from another planet, or you let go a bit, in which case we immediately accuse you of being limp, gutless, ineffectual, or - that most simultaneously dreadful yet utterly meaningless of criticisms - "un-prime-ministerial".
(Is it wrong of me to hate this term so very much? Hearing it makes my thoughts stray to self-harm. "Prime ministerial"? As opposed to what? Back-bencherial? Marsupial? Extra-terrestrial? As a phrase, it's up there with the worst of them. And yeah, "Killing Season", I'm looking right at you.)
Control is a diminishing political commodity, whether it's over one's own self-image or over the fate of an idea or argument. Thanks to the exponential acceleration of the news cycle, the growing cacophony of the internet, and the wave upon wave of published polls, the chances of everything going wrong are now so vastly inflated that modern politicians tend to retreat into robotics just to survive another day. Political jargon and sloganeering aren't specifically designed to induce murderous feelings in the heart of the listener, though that is often their effect; they're just the easiest way, usually, for a politician to protect themselves and retain some degree of control over the exchange. The difficulty here is that sometimes in their eagerness to control an argument, quite often they forget to have it at all, which can be rather puzzling for voters.
It's why parties should always be encouraged to do what the ALP did at the weekend; argue publicly among themselves, rather than covertly, through journalists or the weird semaphore of factional negotiation. The argument is actually important; it shows where individuals stand and why, and teaches us how the decision-making process works. The weekend debate about refugee policy, for instance, gave a much better insight into the subtleties of this particular issue than any amount of time spent watching Julia Gillard and Tony Abbott shriek at each other about it. Where else can you see this sort of thing? The Libs tend to air their linen in private. And the Greens - for all their talk of openness and inclusion - kick the media out of their conferences.
Maintaining control over messages and perceptions is getting harder and harder. And even if you direct all your energies toward maintaining control, the situation generally explodes sooner or later. Think of Kevin Rudd, whose superhuman, 20-hours-a-day efforts to control his colleagues and the media cycle built up a head of pressure which - when it blew - took him with it.
Tony Abbott has enjoyed remarkable control over his own party for the past 18 months. Not because he is a Rudd-style control freak, it must be said. His control has derived chiefly from the sheer proximity of power, which has held his colleagues behind him in a quiver of anticipation. Just one seat. Just one heart attack, one crooked MP, one defection.
Just as fear of losing government has held Government MPs more or less behind Julia Gillard through the mad ping-pong of asylum seeker policy, the crap-shoot of pokies reform and the existential threat of the carbon tax, the sniff of winning it has kept Coalition MPs sedated as Tony Abbott promises billions on paid parental leave schemes or clears the decks of Coalition industrial relations policy.
This degree of artificial control might work nicely for party leaders and Whips, but it doesn't do much for the humble voter looking for non-intelligence-insulting answers to basic questions.
Peter Slipper's acceptance of the Speaker's position changes this knife-edge equation noticeably. Let's hope that if Slipper's time in the chair generates any legacy beyond a sheaf of entitlements investigations and some very good dinners, it will be an end to the rigor into which both parties have been forced and the beginning of some genuine debate.
Annabel Crabb is the ABC's chief online political writer.