Trump’s barely mentioned Australia, but he’s already made the PM and Dutton look weak

Donald Trump is a deeply unserious person by all usual measures. His words don’t align with his actions and his words are frequently bonkers. So much about him is ridiculous, from his hair to the strangely distant relationship he appears to have with his wife, who is often seen avoiding his touch.

He reportedly cheats at golf and his hyperbole is reminiscent of a little boy’s – he is the greatest, he is the smartest, he’s the bestest (in his book, The Art of the Deal, Trump calls this “truthful hyperbole … an innocent form of exaggeration”).

Anthony Albanese and Peter Dutton have a very different approach when it comes to Donald Trump.Credit: Nine

His statements are so outlandish they invite mockery – whether it is his insistence, during the presidential candidate debate, that Haitian immigrants are “eating the dogs” or his novel idea, floated this week, that Gaza can be spring-cleaned of its citizenry, and re-envisioned as the “Riviera of the Middle East” – a melange of Monaco, Mar-a-Lago and NEOM, the utopian city the Saudi Arabian Crown Prince wants to build in his country’s desert.

For those of us mildly consuming the news as we go about our daily lives, it is difficult to know how much emotional energy to expend on each of Trump’s pronouncements.

At the end of last year, I wrote about the bone-deep fatigue many of us feel as a result of the news cycle, and promoted the idea of “internal migration” to find some escape. Keeping “across” the news has never been more difficult – the proliferation of digital media means the pace is relentless and the content endless.

When it comes to the moves of the second Trump administration, it is like trying to track scatter fire with a submachine gun, in every direction.

One day, Trump is enacting and then “pausing” tariffs on trading partners, the next he is flirting with ethnic cleansing (while attempting to gaslight the Palestinian people into realising he is doing them a favour).

Then he has moved on swiftly to banning transgender women from participating in women’s sport. I look forward to Trump telling women they should be thanking him for his feminist activism. Trump’s hostility to trans people has taken immediate effect – the US National Collegiate Athletic Association, for example, promptly adopted the presidential order as a “clear, national standard”.

But Trump’s plan for Gaza, just like his tariff wars, is deliberately ambiguous and abortive and almost certainly will never happen, at least not in the way he says it will.

Reminding oneself of Trump’s bluster, and his apparent belief that making threats is a good way to begin a negotiation, is a valid coping mechanism, a way of self-soothing as we ride out the news cycle. Let’s not get too worried about anything just yet – after all, it might come to nothing, right?

Instead of reading about the incremental developments of, say, Trump’s imposition of tariffs on Canada – America’s friendly and co-operative nearest neighbour – we can resolve to wait until the matter is settled before engaging too much about it. But while such an approach may work for news consumers like us, is it really an option for political leaders?

Domestic leaders trying to manage the fallout from Trump 2.0 face an impossible situation. They have to deal seriously with the deeply unserious, and find a way to respond sincerely to a man whose pronouncements are about as sincere as a fortune cookie message.

This week we saw Prime Minister Anthony Albanese adopt a dead-bat approach to the writhing volatility of Trump 2.0. Albanese was not going to engage in a “running commentary on the president of the United States’ statements”, he told reporters following Trump’s Gaza announcement.

The prime minister could have gone further, reiterating, as British PM Keir Starmer did, that our country supports the rights of Palestinians to be in Palestine. He didn’t. You can see the political calculation at work – if the PM comments on every crazy Trump claim, he risks being sucked into the Trump news cycle, and his own government’s doings will go un-noticed.

On Wednesday Albanese tried, unsuccessfully, to keep focus on an announcement of public hospital funding. But how could that ever compete with a presidential announcement of the Marie Kondo-style de-cluttering of one of the world’s bloodiest patches of land?

Dutton, who is constantly flattering Trump through imitation (be it on trans issues, or his assertion on a recent podcast that men were tired of being “overlooked” for promotion at work) had more freedom to respond to Trump’s Gaza plan. Dutton praised Trump for being a “big thinker” who wanted peace in the region, while reiterating his party’s support for a two-state solution.

Even though Albanese and Dutton adopted different approaches, both managed to look weak in his own way. Albanese seemed apprehensive and afraid of giving offence to the White House bully. Why couldn’t he go further in expressing support for Palestinian civilians? Dutton looked silly, not to mention obsequious, in his own response to Trump. The president’s Gaza “plan” is not blue-sky thinking from a good-faith disruptor. It’s immoral, illegal and unworkable.

The news-cycle challenge presented by Trump is particularly gnarly for the media because the president is, frankly, a great story. People are interested to read about him, and his bombastic, made-for-TV style is at odds with everything we are used to seeing from politicians. He is a one-man news machine, constantly serving up fresh material to outrage and appal. Writing about him requires a cool head and some stamina.

It’s Trump’s world now, and we are all just living in it. Australian politicians will have to sharpen up their responses to his increasingly megalomaniac antics.

It will not be good enough to avoid the subject as Albanese has done so far, particularly when (and it is a matter of when, not if) Trump’s decisions start to directly affect Australia. And Dutton may find his “hard man” image wilting if he continues to pretend the White House emperor is wearing clothes.

Jacqueline Maley is a senior writer and columnist.

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