Labor needs razzle dazzle



Date/Time: 2010:12:17 20:46:06

A FEW weeks ago, one of the politics watchers I follow on Twitter produced a brilliantly succinct analysis of what ails the federal Labor Government.

"We should be very thankful that the ALP didn't invent the wheel," he tweeted. "They would have failed to sell its usefulness."

Salesmanship is fundamental to political success, but today's politicians - particularly on the Labor side - have lost the knack. They don't know how to sell their product.

Kevin Rudd became the Bradman of boredom.

Julia Gillard's monotonous, slow-talking style will never enthuse anyone.

Wayne Swan might know his stuff, but dullness is his trademark. Up-and-comers such as Bill Shorten and Chris Bowen are not much better.

The theme song for politicians should be Razzle Dazzle from the musical Chicago.

Give 'em the old razzle dazzle

Razzle dazzle 'em

Give 'em an act with lots of flash in it

And the reaction will be passionate . . .

Razzle dazzle 'em

And they'll beg you for more!

The lyrics could have been written for Paul Keating. Or Peter Costello. Or Bob Hawke. Even John Howard had a fair bit of the showman in him.

But the current crop of prominent pollies are incapable of razzling or dazzling.

The idea of putting some flash into their performance seems totally alien to them.

On the day he retired from politics, Costello bemoaned the lack of wit and spontaneity in Parliament these days.

"I always thought we were paid to entertain," he said.

He was right. Good politicians understand that they are performers. They use basic showbiz techniques to dazzle punters with their successes and distract them from failures. And they work hard to develop and hone the necessary skills.

John F. Kennedy, before his successful bid to become US president, used to spend hours in a New York fashion photographer's studio trying out dashing poses that might increase his appeal to voters.

To improve his speechmaking and media appearances, JFK would do voice exercises including barking like a seal.

Hawke worked hard to refine his performing skills when he was preparing to oust Bill Hayden from the Labor leadership so he could run for the prime ministership.

I wrote of Hawke at the time: "Whenever he appears on television he watches his own performance acutely and critically, learning from his errors, deciding what works and what does not.

"He studies the techniques of actors, too.

" And he practises mannerisms, voice inflections - anything that might make his performance more interesting."

Keating was famous for his ability to throw the switch to Vaudeville but he, too, had to learn how to do it.

The young Keating picked up a lot from political old-timers who had spent their careers trying to win over often hostile crowds and dealing with hecklers in the pre-TV era.

From the moment he arrived in Parliament, Costello made a careful study of the techniques Keating used - the language, the wit, the humour - so he could adopt and adapt them himself.

But now wit and humour, which should be a key part of the arsenal of any half-decent politician, are rarely glimpsed in Australian politics.

Lindsay Tanner, who retired at the August election, was the last real exponent on the Labor side.

Former British Labor prime minister Tony Blair explains in his recent autobiography how he became a more effective politician after discovering "the force of humour".

Blair wrote candidly: "We might be, usually were, weak on the argument; but it's amazing how much the weakness can be concealed by well-timed ridicule and well-judged wit."

Keating - who, it's been said, had a tongue that could clip a hedge - was the master.

Andrew Peacock on his second turn as Liberal leader never recovered from the brilliant Keating line: "Can a souffle rise twice?"

Keating's description of John Hewson as "the feral abacus" was brilliant.

He described Howard as "wound up like a thousand-day clock".

Even when Keating plagiarised lines from other politicians, he stole well - as in his description of an opponent as "a shiver looking for a spine to run up".

I have written before that I first heard that insult used by

a conservative New Zealand prime minister, Robert Muldoon.

But Keating gets credit for it in anthologies of political wit.

I sometimes regret that Muldoon was not one of ours.

When Australian prime ministers get the chop they write boring memoirs or become foreign minister.

After Muldoon was kicked out of office, however - and while still an MP - he starred as the narrator in the Auckland production of The Rocky Horror Show, fishnets and all.

According to the reviews, he got thunderous applause for his attempts at pelvic thrusts.

But I digress.

To sell anything - a product or a policy or a theme - you have to get people interested.

Bland and managerial doesn't cut the mustard.

Give 'em the old three-ring circus

Stun and stagger 'em

When you're in trouble, go into your dance

Gillard, Swan and the rest need to remember that politics is one of the performing arts requiring certain basic skills.

If you see Swan surreptitiously trying out dashing poses during the Christmas break, or overhear Gillard barking like a seal, you'll know they've got the message.

Laurie Oakes is political editor for the Nine Network. His column appears every Saturday in The Courier-Mail.