Spare no tears for Annastacia Palaszczuk’s departure – politicians don’t know what hard work is

Don’t be fooled by Queensland Premier Annastacia Palaszczuk’s teary departure. Politics can be a tough game. But it’s a game compared with what many Australians do for a living.

The tearful departure this week of the Queensland Premier Annastacia Palaszczuk reminded us that politics can be a tough game. Palaszczuk was the last premier standing after the grueling Covid years which wore down the nation’s state leaders. For all of them, including Victoria’s Dan Andrews and our own Peter Gutwein, the before and after pictures often say it all.

In Einsteinian relativity, time in the premier’s office appears to move faster than time for other Earthlings.

Despite that, many readers will consider that in the Australian workplace that there are many much harder jobs, which require actual physical heavy lifting, danger and real bodily wear and tear.

Jobs that actually require specific employment qualifications.

I know that many of our Tasmanian politicians work ridiculously long hours, cursed by their own machinations decades ago when they shrunk the parliament to keep it in party hands. The result for both parties has been years of inept government. Now they can’t even go out to the pub or a restaurant for fear of being abused. I understand the pressures of office so don’t think of me as hard-hearted here.

Premier Annastacia Palaszczuk announcing her retirement from politics. Picture: Liam Kidston

I could even feel the weight and volume of the Palaszczuk tears.

Despite the troubles I’ve seen in a lifetime of reporting some of the most unfortunate circumstances that can beset human life on this planet, I am still in no way inured to lamentations. Even those of politicians.

But I have developed some reasonable parameters for my tear gauge. And they were challenged this week by the drenching lachrymose cloud-bursts from the outgoing Premier of Queensland.

Annastacia Palaszczuk’s decision to quit after three highly successful terms in government was punctuated by terrible and uncontrollable outpourings of tearful emotion. It was embarrassing to watch painfully drawn-out on live television.

So awkward that even the nightly television news bulletins, despite their love for a bit of grief, dried the tears a bit and edited out some of the worst of the poor woman’s emotional pain to report this coherent message.

“When I led this party from an opposition of just seven members, I said that the first election would be like climbing Mt Everest—I went on to climb that mountain twice more and I don’t need to do it again.”

And fair enough. Why not choose the timing of your departure? Too many politicians leave it too late.

But the tears belied the reality. As Brisbane journalist Jamie Walker, writing for the Australian reported the next day:

“But make no mistake she didn’t want to go. This was not a veteran leader who had run out of puff, who professed to lack the will or physical ability to soldier on. Palaszczuk was put on notice by the only people capable of getting through to her – the bosses of the industrial left and Queensland Council of Unions, the faceless power behind her throne.”

In that case the tears were more understandable, as they might be here in Tasmania should Bec or Jeremy get the tap on the shoulder before either of them has the opportunity to lose the next election.

It’s true that politics can be a tough game. But still, it is a game compared with what many Australians do for a living.

By comparison there are so many much tougher jobs. In fact, I would think working in the building industry, hospitals, agriculture, mining, police, the military and in various fields of engineering would be so much more demanding and possibly more injurious to health than a career in politics.

As opposed to the jobs of those who presume to govern us, the work of the governed is mostly poorer-paid and physically much harder than occupying a seat in parliament.

Sitting in parliament by definition involves, just as described: sitting.

My father Charlie, was a hard worker who died of job-related mesothelioma, better known as asbestosis, which is still a too-common affliction across a range of occupations. Stone masonry also produces similar debilitating and often deadly medical conditions. By comparison the dangers of a life sitting in any of our many parliaments, from what I have seen over years of observation, might be the self-inflicted harms of overindulgence and inactivity. Plus, the pressures of over-weening ambition.

But even if you should lose your seat there is always the compensation of a golden handshake or even better, a highly paid ‘advisory’ job working for a mate still in the game.

But destroy your lungs in the workplace or crack your back house-painting, plastering or roofing… good luck to you. You’re on your own.

This week the former Queensland Premier’s tearful goodbye concluded: “I have fought the good fight and have given everything but now is the time for me to find out what else life has to offer.”

There will be likely a happy ending because former Australian Premiers tend to land on their feet.

Anna Bligh, a recent past-premier of Queensland, furthered her life-long political concern for working Australians and the Labor cause by becoming the CEO of the Australian Banking Association.

Nor should Tasmanians worry about the welfare of any of our own political retirees. Be reassured that like most of their ilk, despite professed ideological differences our political leaders past and present are always well-provided and bi-partisan in their deep and abiding self-interest.

No need to cry for any of them.