Let me take you back. Way, way back to the evening of December 2, 2017. The Prime Minister and his deputy stood arm in arm at the West Tamworth Leagues Club. Joyce had just won the New England by-election by a thumping margin and Turnbull declared he was “putting the band back together.”
Ah, good times.
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Alas, rock stars and politicians are, if nothing else, a difficult and unpredictable lot. Velvet Underground reformed and got halfway through a European tour in 1992 before the band’s two enormous egos, Lou Reed and John Cale, remembered why the band had split up in the first place. The two men hated the sight, let alone the creeping presence, of one another. The tour and the reunion ended abruptly, and Reed and Cale went their separate ways.
The Turnbull-Joyce combo did not come to grief because of crippling personality conflict. although it may do so at some time in the near future. But back then the band had only broken up when Joyce discovered his unfortunate New Zealand-news. We subsequently learned the High Court did not so hold and Joyce was off to a by-election that on the parliamentary numbers at least, threatened the Turnbull government’s majority.
It is worth remembering the PM, euphoric on that evening, saw Joyce’s return as a chance to reset the agenda, move on from the dual citizenship saga and put the rolling shambles of his government’s 2017 behind him. It is also worth noting that Turnbull knew of Joyce’s affair although he says he had been assured by Joyce the affair was over in August.
To many observers the question is why did Malcolm Turnbull act yesterday, based on his deputy’s “shocking error of judgment” — when he knew about Joyce’s “shocking error of judgment” at least six months ago and probably longer?
At a presser concluded just before midday this morning, Joyce described Malcolm Turnbull’s comments as “unnecessary”, “inept” and designed “to cause further harm.” Viewed in the here and now, the band reunion is like the announcement of Oasis getting back together with Malcolm playing Noel Gallagher to Joyce’s naughty Liam.
I get the distinct impression that somewhere in the Prime Minister’s office there’s a pin wheel that reads, “In the event of crisis, spin clockwise”. No matter how many times the wheel is spun, it keeps landing on “High Farce” or “Extend the Chaos.”
We got a little of both yesterday when the PM assembled the press gallery to vaguely intone the reasons for Joyce’s gardening holiday while announcing he had etched in a new item on his ministerial code of conduct, a prohibition on sexual liaisons between ministers and their staff. With it comes the tantalising prospect of ministers being forced to resign to spend less time with their families (with thanks to Cate McGregor).
How does one police a sex ban? This is an issue that has confounded Presbyterians for centuries. The answer is not a simple one.
Will members of the cabinet now draw deep draughts from mugs of potassium bromide before commencing their political ruminations? Will we now have members of the prime minister’s staff bursting forth from cupboards with the refrain, “Hello, hello, hello. What’s all this then?” before dousing impassioned couples with buckets of icy cold water?
Turnbull’s edict is a farrago of quaint nonsense, a pastiche of insipid morality viewed through a rear-view mirror. The electoral benefits are questionable. Some of the fire in more conservative electorates may have been stomped to embers while in others, Australians were left to conjure up unsightly images of ministers engaged in horizontal folk dancing.
The presser was strangely subdued as if the gallery was in shock. When the PM said Joyce should “consider his position”, there was not even a smirk, let alone a Kenneth Williams-like “Ooh-er” from those assembled. Turnbull stuttered and stammered his way through the Q and A. It wasn’t just unconvincing. It appeared as if he was not persuaded by the force of his own arguments.
Surely, I am not the only one uncomfortable about the idea of policing the sex lives of consenting adults. In any event the political crisis surrounding Joyce was not driven by his personal behaviour but his conduct as a minister of the crown. Big difference. And Turnbull seems blind to the distinction, creating the impression, rightly or wrongly, that he knows a lot more than he’s letting on.
Consider what Turnbull’s pin wheel might have revealed if John Howard or Bob Hawke were still running the show. They would have demanded Joyce stand down from his portfolio responsibilities, stepped aside as deputy and announced an inquiry. An old judge or a retired department head would have been dragged out to examine the allegations of misuse of public money, conflicts of interest and misconduct in office. Joyce would have to sit on the backbench for a couple of months. If there was nothing to any of the claims, as Joyce has asserted, he’d be back in the band by May.
It would be a bit untidy, sure. But nowhere near as messy as Turnbull’s odd, priggish, half-sucked response which merely defers any action on Joyce, angers up the Nats for a joint party room donnybrook while establishing a set of rules for ministerial conduct that don’t belong in this century nor the previous one for that matter.
Talk about your shocking errors of judgment.
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