This was published 2 years ago
Shouting, suits, venom – but voters are definitely the debate losers
By Samantha Hutchinson and Stephen Brook
It was a tricky balancing act that came down to the wire. And that was just LEGO Masters′ high wire challenge that served as the warm up to Sunday night’s all-important election leaders debate.
Contestants in the Sunday night reality family favourite were challenged to construct a cable car that balanced precariously on a high wire suspended above an unforgiving concrete wasteland. How apt – and how prescient – could a political metaphor get?
Meanwhile, contestants in the Sunday night political reality favourite 60 Minutes: The Great Debate had a more daunting challenge: penetrating the political apathy of an unprecedented segment of the electorate – 27 per cent at last count – undecided and underwhelmed by the Hobson’s choice between Scott Morrison and Anthony Albanese.
And on the night before polls open for early voting, no less.
This election’s political Thunderdome was Nine’s studio A at its North Sydney headquarters, but voters hoping for a political confrontation to match Mad Max versus Blaster were sorely disappointed. The combat was far less intense than Domenica and Olivia going at it during a Married At First Sight dinner party.
Outside the studio, police kept watch over a small crowd of protesters armed with orange-hued “I don’t hold a hose” placards and black-and-white posters highlighting the rising cost of living. Shrink them and they could almost double as Albo’s palm cards.
Meanwhile, TV viewers were treated to a barrage of ads softening them up before the main event.
From the outset, Liberal leader Scott Morrison displayed his trademark over-confidence as he strode into Nine’s third-floor studio dressed in a prosperity-blue tie and navy suit.
And he had reasons to be cheerful. PM30 won the coin toss – his second in a row – thanks to his media adviser Luke Bennett, who squared off against Team Albo lieutenant Liz Fitch.
Across the room, Opposition Leader Anthony Albanese applied all his learnings from his InStyle fashion photoshoot and appeared in well-tailored suit and GQ-approved grey tie and his signature sleek glasses which have been a valuable addition to the campaign.
ScoMo was first out of the gates and ran away from himself, betraying nervousness, while Albo was sure-footed and confident leading off the top from his campaign conversational safe spaces – promises of cheaper medicine and cheaper childcare.
“Your vote is powerful, your vote can change the country and with your vote we can have an even better country,” he said.
If only the tone stayed so lofty. In no time, the pair were squabbling in raised voices over energy prices and plans for investment in energy transmission infrastructure.
Alas, the strict 60-second time limit often cut the flow of the debate.
When pressed about the record number of voters who remain underwhelmed and undecided more than four weeks into the campaign, Morrison was blunt, telling voters they had a choice and the Liberals represented the better of the two.
Albanese took the opportunity to hammer the Coalition again on its failure to institute a federal anti-corruption commission. As usual, squabbling ensued.
But it wasn’t just the viewers at home tuning into the action. Both leaders’ advisers were watching on from a small set of bleachers inside the studio. Albo’s cheer squad included deputy leader Richard Marles.
In the PM’s corner was a smiling Jenny Morrison alongside his media boss Andrew Carswell, assistant minister and prime ministerial mate Ben Morton and media adviser Danielle McKay. Elsewhere in the building, the PM’s very low profile private secretary Yaron Finkelstein kept up his usual ultra-covert gig, watching the debate from behind closed doors elsewhere in the building.
The night got off to a tough start for the uber-congenial but usually uber-stealthy Finkelstein, who was spotted in the foyer trying to gain entry.
“They think I’m media, someone please help me,” the spooked sounding politico told his team on the phone. Alas, salvation came in the form of Herald editor Bevan Shields, who arrived to shepherd the relieved Finkelstein to a prep room. “The Fourth Estate has come to save me!” Only this once, Yaron.
The cheer squad gave little away throughout the debate even as the leaders repeatedly resorted to raised voices. At half time, Carswell grabbed the PM for a quiet and very brief chat. Albanese left the room briefly followed closely by Marles.
This year, Nine replaced its infamous worm of TV debates past with a QR code for those undecided voters motivated enough to rise from the couch, cross the lounge room and scan the corner of their screen. No doubt an electorate schooled in the methods of reality TV talent voting leapt at the chance. We’ll know of the ultimate victor after the cameras stop rolling.
Then again, what are the spoils of victory? The next prime minister will need to lead a nation of indebted homeowners struggling with rising interest rates, cost of living blowouts, regional geopolitical spot fires while engaging with recalcitrant crossbench likely to be emboldened by the success of the “teal independents”. Plus an electorate whose temperament ranges from the indifferent to the irascible.
Heck, we’d take the lego trophy over that.
Cut through the noise of the federal election campaign with news, views and expert analysis from Jacqueline Maley. Sign up to our Australia Votes 2022 newsletter here.