Barnaby Joyce’s leadership grab overshadows Parliament’s bushfire tribute
Even when the nation is still in the grip of infernos our politicians are talking about themselves and thinking about what they can gain from trying to game the system, writes Tory Shepherd.
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It was meant to be a solemn day.
Shame, then, that we had to spend half of it reliving the tawdry details of “Barna-baby”.
Prime Minister Scott Morrison was clearly carefully conserving his empathy when he spent the first torrid days of the fires sinking cold ones in Hawaii.
All that caring had to come out some time, and so it was that we heard the first day of the 2020 parliamentary sitting year would be spent honouring those who lost their lives and those who saved others.
A fitting tribute.
“Sadly, we have lost too many Australians to this disaster and the parliament will rightly acknowledge all those who have lost loved ones and those who have suffered injuries or lost their homes or suffered in any way as a result of the recent bushfires,” Mr Morrison said.
“As a mark of respect, the motion of condolence will be the only formal business considered by the parliament on our first day, with all members given the opportunity to speak.”
It was a moment for dignity, to recognise nobility and loss. To grieve.
But as the dawn spread its smoky fingers in Canberra, everyone was once again talking about the time Nationals Leader Barnaby Joyce left his wife for his pregnant lover and then said that the paternity of his eldest son was a “grey area”.
And we were revisiting it because Mr Joyce was throwing his big old hat in the ring again, trying to get back the leadership of the Nationals. Another day, another spill.
That leadership spill had itself flowed on from the resignation of deputy Nationals leader Bridget McKenzie. She ended up stepping down not because of the enormity of the “sports rorts” saga (in which $100 million taxpayer dollars were deployed) but because of a subplot in which she had awarded money to a shooting club that she was a member of. Gun, bullet, meet foot.
After all that palaver, all his blathering on the morning TV shows about how he was all about policy, not paternity, Mr Joyce didn’t win. Michael McCormack will stay on, for now.
(The Australian Greens had their own spill after the shock resignation of Richard Di Natale but the handover to Adam Bandt was decidedly smooth compared kwith the turmoil with the Nationals.)
They’re so banal, now, these barneys. The fevered speculation about someone wanting to challenge, the declaration of a vote, the number-crunchers crunching numbers and leaking fictitious ones. The public faces saying everything is settled while the private voices warn that this was just the first skirmish. Spill, vote, repeat.
It’s easy to see this as the new normal, that even when the nation is still in the grip of infernos our politicians are talking about themselves.
The spills have become the unsteady drumbeat of our democracy. Labor tore itself apart and failed to stitch itself back together in a shape the people wanted. The Liberals failed to learn Labor’s lesson and started poll-watching more openly than their opposition ever did. And the Nationals have shown, over and over, that far from being humble farmers, they’re the party of big business and bigger egos, some of them still flabbergasted that a buffoon such as Barnaby got the boot. But this is not so much the new normal we’ve entered, as an alternative reality.
Mr Morrison tried to force a distraught woman to shake his hand, and when she didn’t, he walked away. Later he said they’d had a conversation.
The talking point for the Government on the sports rorts is that they’ve got a report (that they won’t show us) that says everything was fine except for that pesky gun club membership.
So everything is fine because despite a serious, wide-ranging investigation by the Australian National Audit Office saying everything was far from fine, they have a secret piece of paper that says it is.
In this not-so-parallel universe, Liberal senator Jim Molan can say he doesn’t accept the evidence on climate change. It’s a vaguely marvellous admission. There is evidence, he just won’t take it.
It’s so liberal, this universe, that one can take or leave science. Take or leave truth. Turn empathy on and off like a tap and hope people won’t realise their country is still burning.
Meanwhile, the relatives of some of those who died went to Canberra for the day of mourning. Dozens of them in the nation’s capital, to be heard and to remember. To walk up the sweeping expanse to the main entrance, then escape from the tang of smoke into the cool marble foyer.
They got to sit in the House and listen to politicians dole out five-minute doses of condolences. Hopefully, they got to wander in the serene, reflective gardens of Parliament House, the peaceful nooks and crannies.
And I really hope they weren’t interrupted too much by the roar and crackle of Barnaby Joyce as he hurled himself once more into the breach, only to discover it was the bonfire of the vanities.
Tory Shepherd is a columnist for the Adelaide Advertiser.