The real Albo? PM does not need to convince us he’s something he’s not

Around May last year, a veteran political strategist suggested to me that the Albanese government’s apparent strategy of avoiding fights carried a risk. If a crisis suddenly arrived, and the defining purpose of the government had not been cemented in the public mind by policy battle, its response to that crisis could do the job for it.

A crisis can be short or long, but is usually marked by a short initial period of blazing intensity in which the government is on display: the early days of the pandemic, say, or the worst bushfire days.

Prime Minister Anthony Albanese needs to decide whether he wants us to think of him as bold or cautious.Credit: Chris Hopkins

What we both missed at the time was that the Albanese government’s crisis was already upon it – and the reason we didn’t understand this was because the cost-of-living “crisis” was so different from those other crises. Inflation had, by then, already passed its technical peak. Really, though, the defining trait of this “crisis” has been the way it has simply lasted, with no flashpoint. And yet, the original observation has held true, despite this difference: the Albanese government’s failure to stake out a clear governing purpose in the public mind early on means its response to this crisis has come to define it.

Mostly, that feels like a political problem. In other types of economic crisis – like a crash – bold action can be useful and carries the political benefit of lodging in the mind. But few of the government’s responses to inflation have been memorable, which has contributed to the label of “weakness” which has attached to Anthony Albanese.

And yet it is also true that the response required has almost perfectly matched the Albanese government’s manner. In an uncertain situation, in which the government could not risk either stoking inflation dramatically nor cooling the economy too much, both balance and caution have been required. As it happens, these qualities are exactly what mark this government. It got the crisis it was made for. And yet the government has seemed incapable of taking advantage of this, of turning it into a story that might work for it.

Illustration by Joe BenkeCredit:

An interview Albanese gave to ABC Melbourne’s Raf Epstein last week neatly illustrated that failure – and perhaps gave a sense of one way out.

Epstein asked whether Albanese was too timid on gambling ads. Albanese gave an answer in four parts. First, he took on the accusation of timidity, saying his shift on tax cuts was “courageous”. Second, he attacked his opponents. Third, he launched into a rambling and unconvincing explanation of the government’s actions on gambling. Finally, he said this: “My government works through issues in an orderly, consistent way and when we make a decision, we pursue it. But, you know, Peter Dutton hasn’t called for an end to all gambling ads, and so I’m not quite sure where he’s coming from, except his macho stance. He thinks that politics is all about testosterone. Well, it’s about getting things right and making the right decision for the right reasons. And we will do that.”

There is a crucial contradiction here. In that last paragraph Albanese essentially rejects the idea that “boldness” is what matters. Instead, he substitutes his own criteria for good government: orderly, consistent, getting things right. You don’t have to agree with this to recognise that it is at least a plausible description of his government, and a useful political contrast with Dutton’s “testosterone”. But in a way he had already undercut himself with the first bit of his answer, in which he had tried to argue that the government was, in fact, bold. Which is it: does boldness matter or not?

The government has always seemed torn on this. It has long insisted it is bold. But sometimes, responding to accusations of timidity, it points out it wants to be a long-term government, with the implication that being too bold could compromise that. It seems to want to be known as both bold and not bold. In its public arguments it feels torn between trying to win a strongman contest and protesting that such a contest is irrelevant: that competence is more important.

This government has faced another crisis: events in the Middle East, with tensions here, precipitated by Hamas’ hateful attack on Israeli citizens a year ago today. It is a complex, developing situation marked in Australia by strong emotions connected to history, politics and culture – one that calls for a combination of nuance, clarity and caution.

In that same interview with Epstein on the topic of protests, Albanese displayed comfort with complexity. He didn’t believe protests should go ahead today, but he defended the right to protest. No, protesters weren’t responsible for the actions of every other protester; no, terrorist flags shouldn’t be waved; but no, he wasn’t going to tell the police what to do.

Except for one false step, when Albanese said, unnecessarily, “I support the police in whatever action they’re taking”. This blank cheque went too far, recalling Bill Shorten stating he didn’t know what Julia Gillard had said, but he supported it. Unlike the rest of Albanese’s answers, it sounded oddly defensive, as though he were pre-empting imagined accusations.

On both topics, Albanese sounded clearest not when he was making simple points but when he was nuanced, clearly speaking his own mind. He sounded unclear when he allowed himself to become trapped in somebody else’s conception of what a prime minister should be.

With precious few months until the election, the character of this government is unlikely to suddenly change. Nor is it likely to convince voters it is something it is not, like “bold”. Its character has been on display during the strange, lengthy inflation crisis – and in the other slow-building one, the fragmentation of society as events in the Middle East spiral further. That character, with its advantages and drawbacks, will soon be judged by voters. The Albanese government’s ability to make a persuasive case for itself is likely to depend on how well it grasps both its successes and its shortcomings.

Sean Kelly is author of The Game: A Portrait of Scott Morrison, a regular columnist and a former adviser to Julia Gillard and Kevin Rudd.