Barnaby Joyce quits: it was always going to end like this

Barnaby Joyce, left, and his new partner Vikki Campion.

Barnaby Joyce has bowed to the inevitable: no matter how unfair he thinks it is, no matter that he thinks there has been no evidence of wrongdoing, no matter how much he wants to help the outsiders, no matter how much he regrets damage to the National Party and no matter how much he is sorry for the damage to his family, partner and unborn child, it was always going to end like this.

Joyce just couldn’t see it, he couldn’t appreciate the damage he was doing to the Coalition and why his colleagues were deserting him as he writhed in a political and personal torment which clouded his reason and only served to make him more angry.

Joyce’s call from the heart for “all of this” to stop is understandable and for him and his family the public clamour may diminish but the conditions for public shaming and political destruction will not go away.

Joyce’s resignation as Nationals leader and Deputy Prime Minister without tangible evidence of malfeasance is a milestone in Australian political life and forever changes how politicians can live their political lives.

Make no mistake the fault for this personal and political tragedy is all Joyce’s although a new atmosphere of public shaming has contributed mightily to his downfall.

As a ministerial employer Joyce should have taken remedial, transparent steps to remove a clear conflict of interest, take the initiative in revealing what was always going to become public, be straightforward with his colleagues, Malcolm Turnbull and, most importantly, his family and new partner.

A misplaced belief that his behaviour would not or could not be reported led him, some Nationals and the Prime Minister down a path of political destruction which could have been avoided or at least minimised by sensible handling in advance.

Joyce’s fine, moving farewell announcement of his resignation demonstrates he can handle such delicate situations with the authenticity for which he was famed, it was just too late.

By not taking early preventative action Joyce allowed his colleagues to be dragged in to a political stoush, encouraged Turnbull to appear hypocritical, break the relationship between Coalition leaders, damaged the Nationals’ honoured traditions and values, factionalised the Nationals for the first time in more than 90 years and suffered almost irreparable personal reputational hurt.

Joyce misread the public mood in part because he was popular in his electorate and in part because he did not appreciate the force of the new power to put figures into virtual public stocks.

While the publication of the original story was justified in the public interest because of the potential for misuse of taxpayer funds it was the production of story after story “which broke the camel’s back” as Joyce said.

Anything became relevant to Joyce if it involved anything about him and his new partner whether there was a legitimate public interest or not.

What’s more Malcolm Turnbull’s changes to the ministerial code of conduct banning sex between ministers and their staff only guarantees and mandates further personal intrusions and revelations because the Prime Minister has made it part of his code of conduct and therefore by definition in the public interest.

Joyce’s life isn’t the first to fall apart when politics and marital failure have combined, but it is the first to be conducted under entirely new rules that encourage less forensic examination and more public shaming.