Patrick Carlyon: History has smacked Albo over the head and he seems concussed by the blow

Sometimes what Anthony Albanese fails to say resonates more loudly than what he does — he plays better at being the spectator than the statesman.

He’s just another bloke at the barbecue. Looks smart. Friendly enough. He’s wearing a hot button political issue t-shirt. But he’s easy to overlook, too.

Watch him more closely. He follows the chatter, but naturally shies from leading it. When he takes the floor, or rather the floor seems to find him, he doesn’t command attention.

When someone says they like steak, and someone else says they prefer chicken, he agrees with both of them, in such a balanced blandness that no one remembers what he thinks at all.

Let’s give this barbecue guest a name. Let’s call him Anthony. Anthony Albanese. Indeed, as it turns out, he’s also the barbecue host.

He promised his special potato salad, then forgot the potato. The lettuce was limp. He threw all the meat on the grill at once, got distracted by his Spotify playlist, and turned the pieces of meat only after they caught fire.

Imagine this gathering has gone on for about 18 months. Anthony, or Albo to his mates, is still trying to say and do the right things, to offend as few guests as he can, even those who have turned decidedly feral.

He hasn’t said much since he greeted the guests on arrival with a promise “to find common ground where together we can plant our dreams”.

He hoped to talk about subjects that his guests, loaded with their mortgages and power bills, did not want.

It’s hard to know what matters most to Anthony Albanese. Picture: Getty Images

The one time he did speak out, he found the crowd got bored, perhaps irritated, by the virulence of his momentary conviction. And so he shrunk into the background, to nurse another light beer from the esky.

Some of the guests, who have forgotten why they turned up, assume that he has passed out in the corner, that his close mates are speaking on his behalf, even though they seem to disagree with one another.

Which is fine when you’re at a barbecue, even when it’s your barbecue. But the chameleon stylings are not so good when you’re leading the country. When history has smacked you over the head, and you seem concussed by the blow.

Jewish people understandably feel disappointed by Albanese and his government. Their kids don’t feel safe at school or at university, and Albanese doesn’t seem to get the depth of their concerns. As another columnist has put it, their people have been violated, and now they must endure shows of support for the violators.

It’s hard to know what matters to Albanese. Picture: Martin Ollman

Protests against the Israeli cause routinely slide into anti-Semitism. Albanese seems reluctant to address the disquiet. He speaks of Islamophobia in calling for calm, but no one can see any Islamophobia. He offers lots of hand wringing, but little conviction.

He spoke last week, at a Jewish function, and even said some of the “right” things. But it seemed belated. He spoke like someone looking over his shoulder.

How he said it seemed to count for more than what he said. And the exercise served to remind the cynics – that sometimes what Albanese fails to say resonates more loudly than what he does.

The radical Palestinian bloc, meanwhile, trolls his social media accounts. They seem inflamed by his verbal impotence.

The Greens were last week labelled the most racist of political parties for their dogmatic pursuit of a Palestine “from the river to the sea”. They, too, feel emboldened to snipe at Albanese. He’s an easy target. Bit of this, bit of that. He droops in support and sags in condemnation. It’s hard to know what matters most to Albanese.

He once spoke of “the opportunity to shape change, rather than be shaped by it”. We’ve had hateful rhetoric, mooted boycotts and brazen threats since October 7. Being in charge and all, he might be well-placed to shape such unprecedented change. Instead, he reacts to it.

Albanese seems passive to these rather unfortunate swings of attitude. He looks to be buffeted by the breeze instead of seeking to steer its power. He has offered no speech, or even a turn of phrase, that cuts through the din.

Is he modelling Nero? This seems more likely than Bob Hawke or John Howard, who both instinctively knew that uncertainty was best combated with strength.

Or is he the incredible shrinking man? It’s hard to know really. Certainly, he plays at being the spectator better than the statesman.

Has Albanese’s barbecue run out of gas? And if no one can find the host, is it because the guests have given up looking for him?

Patrick Carlyon is a Herald Sun columnist