Repetition is the mother of policy success

Politicians need to actually listen to the people if they want to increase productivity, solve the housing crisis and help remote Australia.

Only those experiencing the housing crunch immediately understand the urgency of the issue, writes Peter van Onselen.

Anyone approaching a politician for assistance with a problem needs to know that if you want help it is best to also identify what the solution could be. Politicians are time-poor and usually not subject matter experts. They therefore appreciate such guidance. If you enter a meeting with a solution to the problem being aired you’re halfway there.

When it comes to politicians securing public support for policy challenges, the reverse is true. It isn’t enough for them to identify solutions to problems; they need to first convince voters that a problem in need of attention exists. This conceptual process is what’s lacking in modern politics: the fine art of securing the public’s support for heady reforms.

We have a housing crisis, the politicians assert, and off they go spelling out their various solutions. Time needs to be spent explaining why the shortage of housing is real and problematic. Only those experiencing the housing crunch immediately understand the urgency of the issue. The same can be said for the debate over the voice, alongside most other policy debates.

Housing is close to everyone’s daily lives, so shortages in housing stocks counts as an issue more easily identifiable to most Australians. Indigenous disadvantage is remote to most of us, hence the process of problem identification is more necessary to win the debate over solutions.

The need to identify and explain a problem is especially necessary when discussing big-picture topics such as tax reform or productivity-enhancing initiatives. If you examine the political rhetoric of the 1970s and ’80s, more time was spent spelling out the problems afoot than is the case today. Perhaps the shift is a con­sequence of a weakening of the political classes’ grasp of policy challenges. A worrying situation if true. Or less-convincing political rhetoric and arguments today. Or it could be because today’s debates aren’t seen as being as totemic as those of yesteryear. Only they are. From climate policies to reforms to manage ageing to how best to structure taxing and spending in a more sustainable way, the policy challenges of today are urgent and acute.

Given what most citizens expect from government, the fiscal ask on modern governments is growing and doing so faster than projected increases in the tax take, which is needed to pay for what society deems the responsibility of governments. To address this disconnect, one of three things needs to change: higher taxes, a lowering of expectations on government service delivery (unlikely), or some combination of the two, perhaps alongside more efficiencies to help the dollars go further.

Efficiency gains could come by way of higher productivity leading to economic growth, or better taxation collections. Either way, an embrace of reform must be on the cards, which brings us back to the need for politicians to spell out problems before telling us what their solutions are.

Voters will tolerate almost anything if they are convinced of the need for it. The broadbased acceptance of punitive measures during the pandemic speaks to that reality. If the political class can do a better job of explaining the urgency of addressing Australia’s disconnect between taxing and spending, as projected into the future, it stands a better chance of securing the backing necessary to deal with the challenge. It requires repetitive identification of tangible problems.

Political strategists certainly understand the need for repetition when delivering slogans. Former NSW premier Neville Wran called it the “vomit principle”: Say the same thing over and over again until you want to vomit. Only then might the public hear it for the first time. American novelist Thomas Wolfe put it a little more politely: “I have to see a thing a thousand times before I see it once.” The same principle applies to public policy advocacy. People are busy, they don’t pay all that much attention to political news, certainly not between elections. If our leaders want to take voters with them, they need to use repetition to advance their arguments, ensuring that the reasons for change are well understood.

The failures of advocacy for the voice fall into this category. We know the Yes camp wants the voice enshrined in the Constitution. What few understand is why it can’t just be legislated. The limited attempts to answer this question refer to the abolition of ATSIC, which the Howard government never replaced. But by the time it was abolished it was a corrupt organisation. Thankfully, ATSIC wasn’t constitutionally enshrined, or the corruption would have been more difficult to stamp out.

So far the voice debate has seen Yes advocates suggest the No camp needs to prove why constitutional reform shouldn’t happen. But that isn’t how advocacy for change works, and for good reason. If someone is proposing change, they need to make the argument for it. A positive argument that convinces people change is necessary. Without such advocacy, propositions usually fail, which will soon be the fate of the Indigenous voice to parliament if the Yes camp doesn’t wake up to this reality. The revelation this week the PM hasn’t read beyond the final one-page Uluru Statement won’t help the Yes campaign. His response “why would I? I know what the conclusion is” doesn’t help either. Apart from the fact one of the architects of the statement and the voice, Megan Davis, has described reading the 18 pages of Indigenous contributions that shaped the one-pager as “very important”, you’d think a passionate advocate for Indigenous policy reform like the PM would read beyond the equivalent of the executive summary.

The Uluru Statement was released in 2017, more than six years ago. Before the busy PM was even the opposition leader. To be sure, Anthony Albanese’s critics will latch on to almost anything to condemn him. But that’s not me. I’ve long been an advocate of his prime ministership, and I still am.

The only thing positive that can be said about Albo admitting he hasn’t read beyond the one-pager is that at least he was honest. A moment of honesty that in time we may look back on as ­pivotal to the voice’s failure, if that is where the coming months of campaigning takes us.

Peter van Onselen is a professor of politics and public policy at the University of Western Australia and Griffith University.