When Winston Churchill drove to Buckingham Palace in the dark days of 1940 to accept the king's commission, he felt that his whole life had been but a preparation for this moment, or so he recounts in his memoirs. This is not wartime Britain. And I am certainly not Churchill. Still, I feel well equipped to take on the leadership of the party in what are testing times for the conservative side of politics.
When Dororthy Parker sat in a cafe in King street in Newtown in the dark days of 2009 to read her majesty's leader of the opposition's words, she felt that her whole life had been but a preparation for this moment, or so she recounts in her site loon pond.
This is not wartime Australia (except and insofar as Afghanistan might be considered an insurrection or a tribal matter or just teaching the fuzzy wuzzies a lesson). And I am certainly not Tony Abbott. Still, I feel well equipped to scribble banalities about the leadership of the party in what are testing times for the conservative side of politics. By referring back to the dark days of Winston Churchill battling the huns and the Nazis, in much the same way as we now must battle the hordes of visigoths storming the battlements.
Put it another way. When Tony Abbott drove through Canberra in the dark days of the war in Afghanistan in 2009 to accept the king's commission, he felt that his whole literary life had been but a preparation for this moment, or so he recounts in his memoirs. But this is not wartime Australia. And I am certainly not Shakespeare. So I feel poorly equipped to evoke the surrealist banality of his scribbles at a time when scribbling about the leadership of the Liberal party is a national past time.
Put it another way. Here's when Tony Abbott said cheese:
It was a way to support Malcolm Turnbull's leadership while also putting on the public record my deep reservations about an emissions trading scheme and dismay at a debate conducted in terms of believers and deniers.
Such stout hearted valiant support. Didn't mean a word of it, didn't believe a word of it. But meant it full heartedly, as a way of supporting the leadership.
And here's when the valiant Tony Abbott said 'moo':
During the following few weeks, some of my strongest backers took me to task, as they saw it, for trying to win votes rather than to do good.
At a dinner in my electorate hosted by the local Liberal Party to promote Battlelines, the argument that the Coalition should not try to save the country from Kevin Rudd's emissions tax was all but howled down.
The counter-argument was the aphorism attributed to Paul Keating: that bad policy would always turn out to be bad politics.
I thought then, as I think now, that something has to be done about climate change. What gradually dawned on me, though, as I reflected on these rebuffs, was that action on climate change didn't have to mean this ETS at this time.
At a dinner in my electorate hosted by the local Liberal Party to promote Battlelines, the argument that the Coalition should not try to save the country from Kevin Rudd's emissions tax was all but howled down.
The counter-argument was the aphorism attributed to Paul Keating: that bad policy would always turn out to be bad politics.
I thought then, as I think now, that something has to be done about climate change. What gradually dawned on me, though, as I reflected on these rebuffs, was that action on climate change didn't have to mean this ETS at this time.
Yep something has to be done about climate change. Apart from calling it crap. Oh heck, won't calling it crap suffice? I mean, it doesn't cost anything, and you can always flush it down the crapper and use the refined remains to fertilise the fields.
And lo, so a new vision came about for these troubled times. But wouldn't it have been simpler to simply say that I put on a pair of flip flops, and carried on the natural walking gait of a politician by flip flopping along the boardwalk?
Notoriously, as it subsequently turned out, at a Liberal Party dinner at Beaufort in country Victoria on September 30, I said that the so-called settled science of climate change was "crap" but that it was a difficult issue for the Coalition. After my comment was reported in the local paper, the Rudd government gleefully leapt on this attempt to justify Turnbull's position to a hostile audience as evidence of a hopelessly confused opposition.
Yes! You see, you can just call it crap, and flip flop away. The so-called settled science is so-called because it is so-called crap, and seeing as how it's settled crap, that makes it a difficult issue for the coalition, so instead of a hopelessly confused opposition, how about an opposition which can settle for a simple minded slogan, which is that the ETS is a giant new tax? That should settle the so-called science.
Cue Why I had to make a stand on the ETS tax, yet another trawl through Tony Abbott's navel, as The Australian valiantly publishes an edited extract from the new updated edition of Battlelines, rushed from the printer to you so you can buy a copy from December 18, and shove it in the Christmas stocking of your favourite conservative partner, relative, friend, co-worker or other person you love to hate.
That will help them discover fine writing of a kind which reminds me of Winston Churchill's wonderful novel Savrola, written on the way to and from the Malakand campaign, and as dense as a suet pudding, or perhaps Sir Henry Newbolt's poem Vitai Lampada, about a breathless hush in the close:
A tremor ran through the party room on the morning of December 1 when Joe Hockey, the most electorally popular man in the party, got the least votes in the first ballot, setting up a final contest that Turnbull would find hard to win.
Thank god, I thought, fighting down nerves, that I had scribbled a few notes on what I might say if I won.
Thank god, I thought, fighting down nerves, that I had scribbled a few notes on what I might say if I won.
A tremor! Oh play up sir, play up and play the game. And keep the victory speech handy. Not too boasting mind you, remember to praise the others for their pluck and fighting spirit, keep it modest and shy and retiring, and inwardly clutch the stomach muscles at the way you've smitten and smoted your enemies. Then on to battle, crying god for Harry, England and Saint George:
As things stand, there will almost certainly be a climate change election. It won't just be about climate change, but that will be the totemic issue. The government will say that lifting the price of carbon is necessary to help the environment. That might be the case one day, but certainly not now. The challenge is to find ways to improve the environment without a great big new tax.
As things stand, there will almost certainly be a climate change election. It won't just be about climate change, but that will be the totemic issue. The government will say that lifting the price of carbon is necessary to help the environment. That might be the case one day, but certainly not now. The challenge is to find ways to improve the environment without a great big new tax.
Um, just one humble question. Why? The so-called settled science is crap, farmers are used to dealing with climate change, and everything is going spiffingly well with the environment. Or so I'm assured by leading spokespersons for the conservative forces in this country.
Or is there a magic pudding where finding ways to improve the environment can be done without any cost, and therefore without any great big new tax? Or is this just a case of humbug, and the pleasure of wearing flip flops on the beach in a hot Australian summer?
Never mind. There's already a few tremors loose in the world:
Tony Abbott should muzzle his loose economic cannon Barnaby Joyce is Paul Kelly's thankfully short note that the apocalyptic Joyce has started to sound like a loon on the farthest reaches of the pond. (Rebellious Joyce slapped back into line).
And poor old Peter van Onselen looked into the chicken livers and the sheep's entrails, and came away a tad glum, in About as bad as it's likely to get.
Of the 10 opposition leaders since John Howard took over from Alexander Downer in early 1995, Abbott's preferred prime minister rating is only higher than for three of them: Brendan Nelson, Kim Beazley (in 1996) and Simon Crean.
Each of Nelson, Crean and Beazley (in 1996) took over straight after an election defeat, a more difficult point in the electoral cycle to score high ratings.
Each of Nelson, Crean and Beazley (in 1996) took over straight after an election defeat, a more difficult point in the electoral cycle to score high ratings.
Opinion poll watcher Andrew Catsaras makes the point that Abbott has made "the poorest start for any new mid-term opposition leader".
Why am I reminded of that great orator Winston Churchill?
When I warned them that Liberal party would fight on alone whatever they did, their generals told their Prime Minister and his divided Cabinet, "In three weeks the Liberal chook will have her neck wrung like a chicken." Some chicken; some neck.
But on van Onselen babbles, seemingly unable to remember the dark days of 1940, even though this is not England, and Tony Abbott is not Winston Churchill and I am not Shakespeare, when a few brave men and their Spitties stood between Britain and the Luftwaffe fiends.
The strategy the Liberals are pursuing for the next election is high risk: they are going after a popular leader's central platform, the Prime Minister's plan to tackle climate change.
That approach will render a black or white outcome. It will either diminish Rudd if he can't explain the merits of his emissions trading scheme when put under pressure, or it will diminish Abbott for attacking a policy position that voters had already endorsed when they elected Labor at the previous election.
Oh dear, doesn't he understand the whole strategy. This climate thing is crap, and we can just fiddle at the edges, and fix everything without it costing a cent.
Abbott has also revived the careers of Howard government ministers who appeared past their prime: Bronwyn Bishop, Philip Ruddock, Kevin Andrews.
Doing so will either give the frontbench line-up an injection of experience that should help it score points, or it will leave voters with the impression that the Liberals haven't learned the lessons concerning why they lost the last election.
Oh dear, more bad attitude, when in fact it was Kevin Andrews who had the cunning, the guile, the spirit, and the undertaking style to stare down and bury the dissidents. We must bury the dissidents!
Just as well, too, that Kevin Andrews, who normally sits beside me in the party room, had had the presence of mind to have ready a draft motion against the ETS legislation to be put to the party room in a secret ballot. Its success, 54 votes to 29, gave great authority to the new policy and helped to ensure that only two senators -- Judith Troeth and Sue Boyce -- of the seven or eight who had earlier spoken in favour of the bills crossed the floor to vote with the government.
Oh well played Kevin, bravely and cleverly, and that should see the white witch beaten, and all well in Narnia.
Still, van Onselen won't stop his yabbering:
Abbott is a conservative with a radical leadership style. Liberals will just need to be
conservative with their expectations.
Well even though this is not 1940, and Tony Abbott is not Winston Churchill, and I am not Shakespeare, I can still feel a spirit of optimism, of hope, arising in our darkest hour:
Or put it another way:
The sand of the desert is sodden red, --
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; --
The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England's far, and Honour a name,
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks:
'Play up! play up! and play the game!'
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; --
The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England's far, and Honour a name,
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks:
'Play up! play up! and play the game!'
Or put it another way.
God save the Queen, the talking tampon, and all those fair monarchists who battled against the evil of the republic. Come on down, Tony Abbott, and kneel before your future king, and fight with all your might for his loopy loony environmentalism ...
Oh 2010 is going to be a rich and fruitful year for loon pond and its inhabitants ...
(Below: Paddy Payne does it for Britain and Churchill - rest of the story here).
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