NSW Coalition row: Gladys Berejiklian and Nationals leader John Barilaro crisis was never about koalas

NSW Deputy Premier John Barilaro. Picture: AAP

This crisis is not about koalas. It was never about koalas, or noxious weeds, or farmers who couldn’t pave a driveway without fretting over the eucalyptus trees on their property.

This was the inevitable result of the dismissive, condescending and deteriorating relationship between NSW Premier Gladys Berejiklian and her deputy, John Barilaro. It was an avertable crisis, a failure of leadership from a premier who saw it coming, looked the other way and publicly derided her deputy’s concerns.

That’s not to say Barilaro should go without blame here. For months now, he has dialled up the mischief-making, the fight-picking, the wheel-spinning for which he is famous. It is practically sport for Barilaro to get on Sky News and break ranks with government policy.

Recall his criticism of the environment minister over renewable energy policy, or feral horses. Recall his move to quit government for a seat in federal parliament, only to sheepishly return because he actually loves his job as Deputy Premier. Recall his throwdown over uranium mining, or the need to drop the state’s hard border with its southern neighbour.

Short on detail but high on the faff, he is unquestionably brilliant at generating a headline.

And yet rather than reining in this lack of fealty or enforcing a semblance of discipline, Berejik­lian has only ever shirked calls to bring her deputy to account.

NSW Premier Gladys Berejiklian speaks during a press conference at RFS Headquarters this week.

At press conferences, she shrugs off the dreaded questions. No clearer was that this week than when his concerns over koala planning policies, emblazoned on the front page of major news­papers, were raised.

“That’s just Barra,” she shot back, which, roughly translated, amounted to: “I couldn’t care less what he thinks.”

Hence, the current predicament. As of Thursday night the matter appeared to have been lanced with a promise to negotiate, as many suspected it would be. But to get to this point, Barilaro had to throw all toys out of the pram and threaten to commit hari-kari with his Nationals colleagues to collectively resign from cabinet.

Amid the crisis meetings, the emergency Zoom calls, the frantic text-message flurries, there was even talk of blocking supply if matters deteriorated to an irrevocable point. It is telling that in the midst of a pandemic, at a time when the state’s budget is haemorrhaging cash, some MPs would consider such an irresponsible act of inverted vanity.

In the end, the Nationals backed down from their existential threat with the promise of a compromise deal. And while Berejiklian may have appeared muscular by issuing an ultimatum, and averting a disaster, this is not a win either side can claim.

A true victory for the Premier would have been to de-escalate this crisis weeks ago.

That we had to watch this trainwreck in slow motion is an indictment of her leadership.