Just drop the mug lair act, Sam

Sam Dastyari is right. First-time buyers in the Sydney house market pay exorbitant prices. The properties are small, there are cracks behind the veneer, and the surrounding noise is loud and constant.

One could say the same about what NSW voters get in return for federal representation in the Upper House, particularly with one senator.

Brash and young, Dastyari likes to portray himself as both maverick and headkicker. The latter is problematic, given his diminutive stature. He attempts to address this in part by repeatedly swearing in a series of social media videos and tweets, accompanied by furious gesticulation and exaggerated sneering.

It doesn’t earn him the air of authority that he no doubt desires, but it gets Dastyari publicity. Contrasting this is his ready charm, which at times borders on opportunistic. During the recent journalists’ strike, Dastyari tweeted footage of himself explaining to his two young daughters that Fairfax “management“ had an unfair share of “lollies” compared to the “workers”.

Fairfax management with My Little Pony pic.twitter.com/SoVvZINDsn

— Sam Dastyari (@samdastyari) May 4, 2017

All very cute, but it left the perception that he was attempting to ingratiate himself with the left wing media. And there was the Budget Day stunt with Dastyari organising a Malcolm Turnbull impersonator. It even got a few polite titters.

His recent attempt to champion first-time home buyers — and, by implication, to criticise government — backfired with accusations that Dastyari is a property snob. The houses that featured in the video were modest, but so was Dastyari’s first Australian residence — a one bedroom flat adjoining a railway in the Western Sydney suburb of Blacktown that he shared with his parents and his sister.

@overingtonc Hey Caroline. Wasn't intended to be offensive at all. Highlighting the extreme nature of the Sydney property market. It's out of control.

— Sam Dastyari (@samdastyari) May 6, 2017

In damage control, Dastyari argued it was “wrong to interpret vid (sic) as anything other than a cry for reform.” He has priors for social media mishaps. Only last month, Dastyari referred to Andrew Fisher in a tweet as “the first Labor PM”. When informed this was actually Chris Watson, Dastyari responded “My typo. Was meant to have QLD in but cut for length.” Typo? In addition to the original tweet, video footage showed Dastyari saying “We’re here at the home of the first Labor prime minister, Andrew Fisher.” Not knowing a basic fact in your party’s history is bad enough, but being caught out trying to cover up the reason for your blunder is worse.

Despite nearly four years in the Senate, he still presents as someone desperate for attention. His grandstanding is a longstanding habit, as evident in the 2015 documentary The Killing Season. The footage of Dastyari playing a cameo of his incredulous self in 2010 talking into a yet-to-be-invented iPhone6 angered ALP veteran Laurie Ferguson, who labelled the performance “pitiful”.

Senator Sam Dastyari in Senate Question Time. Picture: Kym Smith

Ultimately though it may not be self-centredness, or self-promotion, or even bad judgment that could frustrate Dastyari’s ambitions. Rather, it’s his insincerity, and his inability to learn from his mistakes. It was an uncharacteristically reticent senator that fronted the cameras in September 2016 after revelations he’d asked a company associated with the Chinese Government to pay a $1670 bill. This compromised Dastyari, but not as much as reports that his stance on the South China Sea dispute was both supportive of China and at odds with the ALP’s position.

“I was in the wrong”, said Dastyari in the press conference, hastening to add that it was important he “learn, reflect more”. As for his support of Chinese foreign policy, “If I have misspoken on this issue then I would have been wrong.” All the standard fall-on-your-sword responses. Dastyari’s resignation from the front bench was the equivalent of ten minutes in the sin bin, as he was appointed Deputy Opposition Whip in the Senate only five months later.

Generally, the length of the exile is proportionate to reputational damage, but we’re not seeing this in Dastyari’s case. What we’re also not seeing is atonement for his actions, which would have been apparent had a quieter, more reflective, and more mature Dastyari emerged. The cockiness, the arrogance, and the bluster remain. Lapses in judgment are not necessarily fatal in politics, but failing to learn from them is. Dastyari’s premature comeback may ultimately be counter-productive for him.

So too will his excessive showmanship, which shouldn’t sit well with someone whose ambitions rise far beyond his present position. If he is to realise his potential, Dastyari must lose the mug lair image, and adopt both the dignity and discipline that his role requires. Time, one might say, that this Deputy Opposition Whip administered himself a much-needed self-flagellation.