Michael Duffy January 29, 2012
In recent years, Tony Abbott has become more guarded and ordinary, less articulate and elite. Photo: Louie Douvis
Tony Abbott has spent years reinventing himself as a regular guy - and it's working. His biographer, Michael Duffy, talks to a changed man.
DURING the writing of Tony Abbott's biography eight years ago, it became evident to me there were two sides to his character. One was a blokey, sports-loving, typical Australian male, complete with an accent broader than you find in most people who grew up in Killara and went to Oxford University. The other was a highly educated man influenced by his time at Oxford and all it represented, including the monarchy, and a passionate supporter of conservatism in general and the traditional Catholic Church in particular.
The question was, could this more exotic side of his nature prevent him from connecting with ordinary Australians deeply enough to affect his chance of becoming prime minister? Abbott himself had once expressed precisely that fear.
Tony Abbott's new combination seems to appeal to voters. Photo: Edwina Pickles
After meeting Abbott last week, for the first time since the biography came out, I think there is an answer to that question. Abbott has connected - the last Nielsen poll ranked the Coalition's two-party-preferred vote at a whopping 57 - and there is a reason for this. He has become, at least to outward appearances, a man more ordinary.
He was far more guarded than before, and far less articulate. At times he wrapped an arm across his chest as though trying to protect himself. It was a surprising piece of body language for a man who has traditionally been so accessible.
In general, he declined to talk about himself, something he used to do with a certain objectivity. There were fewer ''ums'' and ''ahs'' in his conversation, but also much less of the easy guffawing of old.
Tony Abbott visits Tamworth earlier this week. Photo: James Brickwood
It may be that since stepping into the leader's spotlight, he has come to value his privacy more. Or, as several people who know him well have suggested, it may be that the experience of leadership has simply made him more formulaic.
The former Liberal politician Ross Cameron suggests: ''When you become leader, you lose a couple of octaves of personality.'' But the degree of difference, the apparent decline in reflection and exuberance, were striking.
Abbott, who has written several books and dozens of lucid speeches, has been the most intelligently expressive Liberal politician of his generation. But now his opinions and language have simplified. When asked about his motivations, a question he's previously answered thoughtfully and even elegantly, he replied with little more than the cliche about wanting to ''make a difference''.
When asked what early experiences helped prepare him to be a leader, the only one he picks out is journalism, which he says helped him master a brief. If this is a crude attempt at flattery it is far too implausible: as is well known, he was mentored for greatness from an early age; and previously he has credited essay-writing at Oxford, not journalism in Sydney, for his ability to master a subject quickly.
You can't draw a full picture from one interview. But if you compare it to one conducted earlier, you can make useful observations about how much the subject has or hasn't changed over the years.
In Abbott's case, I can only conclude that the personality I saw last week - the simpler, stripped-down model - is the one he now wants presented to the world. Possibly, as Cameron intimated, it is the new Abbott, the result of the pressures of leadership. And maybe also of its desires.
Tony Abbott has often surprised people. He has a loud personality and makes a quick impression that tends to stick, often in the form of caricatures devised by his foes. In his public career we've seen the monarchist, Howard's attack dog, the misogynist, the mad monk, the budgie-smuggling Lycra man, and more recently Dr No, who's turned the Coalition into the Noalition. There's some truth in all these, but there is also a broader and deeper character, which has struggled to make a public appearance from behind this vivid array of masks.
Abbott has had two broad successes since becoming leader in December 2009: his managerial effectiveness has helped unite the Coalition, and his attacks on the government have worked. These assaults have generally been discussed in terms of negativity, but this obscures a more fundamental fact. They are based on Abbott's conservatism, which now, stripped of its exotic aspects, has found resonance with many ordinary Australians, especially in the areas of taxation, the response to climate change, and border protection. This sense of connection must be invigorating. Possibly, like many people at the start of a love affair, Abbott has adjusted his behaviour in ways he hopes will make him more attractive. Hence the rise of Mr Ordinary.
But the Labor Party and the broader left continue to portray Abbott in extreme terms, as uncaring and anti-women and a fanatical Catholic. He appals many well-educated people. A former senior Liberal minister notes: ''Most of my friends on the left and the right don't like Abbott because of climate change and the boat issue. At the high-intellectual end of the community, the antipathy is amazing.''
In The Sydney Morning Herald, the leading public intellectual Robert Manne described him as unprincipled, unthinking and unscrupulous.
THESE criticisms in part use Abbott as a proxy for an electorate from which the Labor Party and the left feel increasingly estranged, and are, of course, a rerun of the attitudes common particularly during the first terms of the Howard government. Whatever their moral weight, they pose the risk of obscuring Abbott's electoral potential. As John Howard said: ''The ALP completely underestimated him. It took ages to work out he was a formidable opponent.''
This is a view widely held among Liberals, but also by some outside observers. Mark Latham, the former federal Labor leader, says: ''The ALP's initial strategy was that Abbott would destroy himself by losing his temper and going over the top. But he didn't. Since then the ALP hasn't known what to do about him. It's the same as the way many in the ALP wrote off Howard for years, by failing to understand his appeal outside the inner suburbs.''
One important aspect of Abbott not widely appreciated is that he is an effective manager. He spent nine years as a minister, including four years in the major health portfolio, an experience he is proud of. He says in our interview: ''It's a complex job and involves working closely and effectively with the public service. I found that personally rewarding.''
He continues to be a good manager today, says Christopher Pyne, shadow education minister and manager of business in the house. ''I think he shows real ability in managing people. He's actually quite humble and very respectful of other people's views. When he said, 'I'm a people person', after becoming leader, that was mocked in the media. But it's actually true.''
Latham muses that Abbott seems to have an ''unlimited capacity'' to travel and get into the media. ''It's unprecedented for someone in his position. He's the government's worst nightmare in that regard.'' The expenditure of energy is enormous: ''It's very draining to visit so many places,'' Latham says with feeling. ''The public sees only the tip of the logistical iceberg. The question is whether it's a man or a machine out there.''
Abbott's logistical success partly derives from his obsession with fitness. Asked why he devotes so much time to solitary forms of exercise, he replies: ''It's the best way to provide a bit of self-time these days. I owe it to my family to give them some time, and while they don't get enough, they do get some. The only time I get to myself is really if I'm on the bike or on the surfboard or running around the block. I think that for me is quite important in terms of mental health, as well as keeping me fit. Exercise is meditation for active people.''
This obsession has created the great visual cliches of Abbott as the man in pink Lycra or a lifesaver's or iron man's costume. These are probably useful in a sports-crazy country, but as Howard observes, they might have confused some observers: ''A lot of people … have made the mistake of transferring his powerful physical presence to his character. That is strong, but it's also highly intelligent. He's very well read in philosophy and history. He's more subtle than many people expect.''
But we see little of that side of him these days. Christopher Pearson, a newspaper columnist and old friend of Abbott, says that after Abbott became leader, ''I was dreading he might lose some of that emotional availability, but I don't think he has. He still has the capacity for warm exchange.'' Still, Pearson says, ''It's a bit formulaic now he has to deal with so many people. There's a lack of time, and exhaustion.''
Others have noted a narrowing of the range of people from whom Abbott takes advice, and a stronger reliance on his own judgment, backed by his close advisers. Pyne says: ''He has changed since becoming leader and having a string of victories. First there was uniting the party. Then he spooked Rudd out of holding an election in March 2010. Then Rudd was dispatched in June 2010, followed by months of chaos for the government. And then the election, which he nearly won. He's become more confident as a result of that. He trusts his own political judgment more.''
Although reluctant to talk about himself, Abbott does say of the election of 2007: ''Loss of government is a bit like a bereavement. But it passes and you learn a great deal - you learn more from your defeats than your victories. It reminded me that defeat and failure are the lot of a large proportion of the human race. That's part of the human condition.''
He acknowledges a change in his approach since becoming leader in 2009, which might explain some of the alterations I notice. ''The thing I've been most conscious of,'' he says, ''is that I am now a standard bearer not just for myself and my ideas, but for a political party, for a political tribe, indeed for all the many millions of people who want to see the conservative side of politics succeed. There's a sense in which I no longer have the luxury of a personal view, everything has got to be done for the good of the team and the country. That's a heavy responsibility. I don't claim I always perfectly discharge it, but I'm always conscious of it.''
WHEN asked about the amount of work in being opposition leader, Abbott stresses he is not complaining, but the details are formidable. His first phone conference of the day is at 6.15am and he doesn't usually finish before 10pm. Weekends he tries to keep free, but they are often interrupted, as are his rare family holidays. It is, he says, much harder than being a senior government minister.
''I'd observed John Howard and seen the crushing burdens and the unbearable hours a leader has to endure,'' he recalls. ''But it's one thing to know this in your head and another to live it in your life.'' He has had to step down as deputy captain in the volunteer fire service, although he remains an active member. To see more of his daughters, he has taken two of them with him on some trips away.
If it's the case that Abbott has reinvented himself as one more ordinary, it raises an interesting question. Has the new version replaced the older one, or is it simply the latest mask? If the latter, will the older Abbott re-emerge if he becomes prime minister, and what might that mean? Would, as some of his critics on the left assert, he use the opportunity to impose extreme views on the country?
This seems unlikely given his own long record in government. His work there on welfare and unionism (as in clamping down on corruption and violence in the construction industry) was portrayed as extreme by the left, but according to the polls it found wide support among voters.
Abbott now appears to be engaged in that long dance with the electorate that all successful politicians experience, a dance so seductive he will not want to withdraw from its embrace by testing the relationship with radical actions. Like Howard's first terms in office, I suspect, an Abbott government would prove less exciting than his opponents hoped.
Perhaps the right would have more to fear than the left, in the economic area. Pearson believes the ''big-spending side of Abbott'', which was of concern to people like Peter Costello in the days of the Howard government, has receded. Others are not so sure.
The senior Liberal quoted earlier says that on economic matters, ''Tony's approach seems to be a bit random''. Last July the Modest Member group, devoted to economic reform, was restarted by some members of Parliament unhappy with Abbott's vagueness in this area. About 50 people attended the relaunch (not all of them politicians), which the senior Liberal source says reflects ''no sign of mutiny''.
Abbott has always loved a fight, and this continues to be perhaps his greatest strength as it leads him instinctively to issues of electoral significance. A certain zigzagging can occur along the way, but usually once he's made up his mind he becomes an effective advocate, even if the arguments these days tend to be stripped down.
He agrees he's been negative on a range of issues, but: ''There have been many positive speeches, quite a few of them in the last year. But they tend not to be reported.''
He also claims that negativity supports the public interest. ''Something people tend to forget is that being critical of the government is not just negativity. It's also a vital part of our adversarial system, which seeks to get closer to the truth through public debate.''
Meanwhile, the government continues to rail against ''Dr No'', although so far to little avail. ''The orthodoxy was that the public would turn against an opposition leader who came across as this negative, but it hasn't happened with Abbott,'' says Latham. ''He's rewritten the textbook on that. Actually, most people in the outer suburbs aren't even talking about Abbott. They just talk about how bad this government is. Labor and the commentariat talk about Abbott as though he's the issue, but for most people he's not.''
Which is how Abbott wants it.
At some point before the next election, people will become more interested in who Tony Abbott really is. Many in the Labor Party hope for that day, believing that when the mask drops, the sight of the conservative Catholic ogre will be so horrific it will mark the end of his successful run.
Yet it's possible what people will find will be, even more than in the 2010 election, a fairly ordinary bloke. This will be partly because he has always been more ordinary than others thought, and partly because he seems to have worked in recent years to make himself more so, in order to achieve the ultimate goal of prime minister. That discovery could be a surprise, for his foes and maybe some of his friends.
But just what the man himself thinks of how he's changed is anyone's guess. It's not the sort of thing Tony Abbott talks about any more.
Michael Duffy is the author of Latham and Abbott (Random House, 2004).
