The PM was punching well, until he gave himself an immigration uppercut

Given the very recent defeat of the Indigenous Voice referendum, an interesting feature of past weeks has been the significant amount of money allocated to the Northern Territory. Two weeks ago, we saw a joint announcement between the federal and Territory governments of $4 billion for remote housing. The next day, another joint announcement: $1 billion on schools, with disadvantaged schools to get the cash first.

Last Monday, Indigenous Affairs Minister Linda Burney made these points in an answer she gave in question time on the topic of violence in Indigenous communities. By Wednesday, the issue of violence in the Northern Territory more generally had become national news, with a state of emergency declared, and a temporary nighttime curfew announced for under-18s in Alice Springs. That day, in response to a question from Peter Dutton about crime in Alice Springs, Anthony Albanese again mentioned the housing money.

Illustration: Jim PavlidisCredit:

Were the nation suddenly to decide violence up north was its most pressing priority, it’s possible these investments would not immediately strike voters – accustomed to politicians who pander to their fears – as the most convincing answer. The same might go for other things Albanese and Burney could justifiably have mentioned – such as the government’s increase to JobSeeker last year. As writer and researcher Eleanor Hogan has previously noted, crime in Alice Springs fell when JobSeeker rose, and rose when JobSeeker fell. This makes sense: the connection between crime and inequality is well known.

It seems unlikely Dutton would accept this response either – or that he would applaud if Labor suddenly announced another increase to JobSeeker. Which is a reminder of the gaps that always exist in politics. Journalist Paige Taylor perceptively noted last week that at the press conference where the NT curfew was announced, it was the person not at the mercy of voters, the police commissioner, who began emphasising long-term solutions as the real answer. Taylor made this point in relation to Indigenous affairs, but it is the reality of governing more broadly: short-term emergencies often arise from long-term factors, which means that urgent action is unavoidable, but rarely the answer.

This gives rise to a damaging rhetorical gap too: between the things one might say today and the things that could be helpful in building a different perception of the problem in the long run.

And then there is the more obvious gap: between the needs of a government and the needs of an opposition.

In April, the High Court will hear a case about whether an asylum seeker who has refused to co-operate with his deportation can be kept in detention. If the court frees him then, according to the Guardian, another 170 or so asylum seekers might also be freed, adding to the 151 freed by the court’s decision last November.

This would create a difficulty for the government, as constitutional law expert Anne Twomey has written: an incentive for asylum seekers not to co-operate with deportation. And so, last week, the government attempted to pass new laws. As Twomey explained, if the government loses the case, the new laws – should they pass – will, in effect, allow anybody freed by the decision to be locked up again for the criminal offence of refusing to co-operate with deportation.

At the other end, the government wants to penalise countries that won’t accept involuntary deportations, by blocking visas for anyone from there. The opposition agreed to all this in the House; but then, in the Senate, it joined with the crossbench to send it off to an inquiry.

There are three things to note.

The first is that the Coalition’s call is utterly reasonable. This legislation has drastic implications – effectively penalising people for what their government does. It also criminalises people who refuse to return – which rests on assumptions about the ability of our troubled system to fairly determine whether somebody’s asylum claim is justified. Labor tried to rush this through the parliament – a sneaky, facile trick.

The second thing: such principled justifications are not what is driving the opposition. Labor is right to point to the Coalition being all over the place, and the reason for that chaotic approach is because it is driven largely by tactics: the prospect of a prolonged focus on the topic, including the delicious possibility of Labor having to call an emergency sitting of parliament to deal with asylum seekers.

Given the fact that no Liberal opposition was ever going to turn this chance down, it was unwise for Labor ever to act as though passing it was a possibility.

Which brings us to the third thing. Since the High Court’s decision last year, the government has seemed pushed and pulled. Not all of this is its fault: the law is the law. But its response – which is its fault – has been to double down on the politics: to amp up its rhetoric and put on its boxing gloves.

Sometimes, in politics – like when you realise your opponent will always punch harder – you should exit the ring and try another approach. What is particularly strange about Labor’s approach here is that it diverges from what has worked reasonably well for it elsewhere: explaining rather than falling back on surface-level grabs, of proceeding at its own pace as far as possible, of looking at issues first through the prism of governing.

As I wrote in The Monthly, Albanese has at times refused to accept assumptions about the way race operates in Australian politics. In comments repudiating scare campaigns on asylum seekers, in pursuing the Voice referendum against the odds, he rejected the idea that debates like these would automatically continue operating in the depressing way they often have in this country.

A massive social shift like that can only get so far without active encouragement from politicians. That means – on issues like the one the government now faces – taking the time to explain complex matters to Australians, on the bet that they are ready for something new. There is political risk in this. But as the Albanese government is learning, what might initially seem politically useful in the short term is not always actually that useful. And it is very unlikely to change the country’s understanding, attitude and approach over time.

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.