Matthew Abraham: Backstabbing, nepotism and how the electorate of Sturt encapsulates SA politics

The history of the federal electorate of Sturt is written in blood nearly as much as ink — but it could have been so different if a man named Sergio Ubaldi had triumphed 36 years ago this week, Matthew Abraham writes.

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If only luck and the numbers had fallen the way of Sergio Ubaldi in March 1983, the course of history would have been changed forever.

A small slice of history, to be sure, but history all the same.

Sergio was the ALP candidate for Sturt at the federal election held 36 years ago this week.

Ubaldi campaigned with the brilliant slogan “Ubaldi Ubewdy”.

Despite this marketing masterstroke, and polling a credible 48 per cent, he failed to unseat the sitting Liberal MP, Ian “Wooly” Wilson.

Lifting the leafy green curtain of Sturt reveals a case study in the feudal, incestuous nature of Australian politics, random acts of treachery and, importantly, how the voters are the last people to get a say in electing politicians.

You could say it represents everything that’s broken about our political system.

Wilson effectively inherited the seat in 1966 from his father, Sir Keith Wilson, who had held it for the Liberals since 1949.

The young Wilson carelessly lost it to the ALP’s Stormy Norman Foster in 1969, but regained it three years later.

It wasn’t a Labor person who brought Ian Bonython Cameron Wilson’s 24-year political career to a screaming, permanent halt one fateful day in 1991.

It was another Liberal. Not just any Liberal, but one of Wilson’s own staffers – Christopher Pyne, 23.

Christopher Pyne, 23, in March 1993.

Ian Wilson (right) in 1982.

In a move straight out of the Black Adder Big Book of Bastardry, Pyne rolled Wilson in an ugly preselection contest.

Liberals have never forgotten it.

Pyne won Sturt at the subsequent 1993 federal election. Twenty six years later, he’s calling it quits because “being in politics is not a life sentence” – especially so if you get to trouser a $172,196.35 annual, indexed, taxable pension.

Now, the man who famously said of himself “I’m a fixer” is trying to fix who gets to replace him in Sturt.

It’d be nice if real people had some say in this but that’s not how the game works.

Pyne is backing his protege and Saints old boy, James Stevens, who resigned last week as Premier Steven Marshall’s chief-of-staff to concentrate full-time on wooing Sturt preselectors.

The Premier’s policy adviser Courtney Morcombe, a former adviser to Pyne, promptly filled the Stevens vacancy in Marshall’s office.

The talented Morcombe is the partner of federal trade minister Senator Simon Birmingham, a close friend and factional ally of Pyne’s.

At least one, possibly up to three, women will stand against Stevens – a move that presents a clear and present danger to a male candidate in a party desperately short of women MPs.

The one-week window for nominations closed Friday – an unnecessarily tight timeline, especially given the need for citizenship proof – and candidates will be confirmed by next Wednesday.

James Stevens , Chief of Staff to SA Premier Steven Marshall, has resigned today . Picture: James Stevens / Twitter

Adelaide lawyer Joanna Andrew, a conservative, says she’s definitely having a go.

Who’s she?

Why, the niece of former Howard government speaker, Neil Andrew, one of Pyne’s many foes, that’s who. Are you starting to get the picture?

Joanna Andrew.

The successful candidate will be the person who can most successfully manipulate the gaggle of 500 Sturt electoral college members.

What say do voters get in all this? Not a lot.

About as much say as we had in the ALP factions who chose union boss Joe Szakacs and Andrea Michaels for their respective cakewalks in the Cheltenham and Enfield by-elections.

Do we get the best and brightest MPs from this cosy process? Maybe, maybe not.

ABC election analyst Antony Green tweeted recently that in NSW in the 1870s, hustings were large constructed platforms where nominators made speeches, their candidates explained what they stood for, they were chosen on a show of hands and any six voters could then request an election on a later day.

An eminently sensible arrangement.

He said the 1880 NSW electoral act introduced deposits for the first time after the public “started to nominate inebriates to appear on the hustings stage with the good and great of the colony”.

Drunken politicians? Glad we weeded them out.

“Election hustings were a form of public entertainment in those days,” Green says.

Ubewdy, because they still are, in a sobering kind of way.