This is no time for partisan rage
Idea
Earlier this month, as I was considering what to write for a year-end column, I wanted to break away from the journalistic tradition of looking back at the past 12 months to examine key moments and underlying themes. Instead, the plan was to write the first draft of something ahistorical: things that don’t happen in 2025.
We are not in the midst of a global recession or, worse, a depression. This was the scare after Donald Trump’s “Emancipation Day” tariff shock, when markets plummeted and eventually rebounded in one of the strongest six-month rallies in 75 years. Despite Trump’s blatant disregard for lower federal courts and disregard for presidential norms — the demolition of the East Wing of the White House became instantly metaphorical — we have yet to see a full-blown constitutional crisis.
Here at home, federal elections did not follow the anti-incumbency trend of 2024, when many incumbent governments were voted out by voters, as widely predicted. We do not have a hung parliament. Labor won easily, albeit by a loveless landslide. Peter Dutton is no longer a member of Dickson, let alone spending his first Christmas at Kirribilli House.
AUKUS was not bullied. Instead, the US commander-in-chief gave the order to “advance at full speed”. Here, a face-to-face meeting at the White House, something that did not happen in the first eight months of Trump’s presidency, worked to Anthony Albanese’s advantage. China created a problem for the US by announcing export restrictions on rare earth minerals, and the Australians were ready to solve it. Like the election delay caused by Hurricane Alfred – which turned out not to be the hurricane that acted as a circuit breaker for a beleaguered government – it embellished the narrative that Albanese was an unusually lucky prime minister. I guess this trope will never be in print again.
Now, in the wake of the Bondi horror when two gunmen opened fire and killed 15 people, an article about what didn’t happen takes on a completely different meaning. In fact, what did not happen will form the basis of a review of federal law enforcement and intelligence agencies by security chief Dennis Richardson in the aftermath of 9/11, when ASIO and the AFP gained a much-envied international reputation for thwarting Islamist mass casualty attacks. Why were clues like Sajid and Naveed Akram’s trip to the Philippines overlooked? Why have points like Sajid Akram’s arsenal of long-armed weapons and his son’s alleged links to ISIS remained unconnected?
Another thing that hasn’t happened in the two weeks since Bondi is the recall of the federal parliament. A reeling government fears the Houses of Parliament will turn into an ugly battlefield where it could be subject to further attacks. More specifically, there is the question of how the condolence motion will be handled in the Senate (a chamber where Pauline Hanson recently appeared wearing a burqa); this chamber is generally more toxic and more prone to demonstrations than the Parliament. Parliamentary custom is for bound copies of petitions of condolence and extracts from the Hansard hearings to be made available to the relatives of those honored. But will Hansard then need to be redacted to remove abusive rhetoric? Politics hit rock bottom when recalling parliament was seen as an action to be avoided.
Even before the Bondi attack, inter- and intra-party politics intersected to create an ugly multiplier effect. During the parliamentary expenses scandal, Albanese, who spoke noticeably more fluently after his wedding and successful trip to Washington, had crouched in defence. Sussan Ley had survived the last parliamentary session of the year but was expecting a leadership challenge in 2026. Pauline Hanson, rising in the polls and boosted by former deputy prime minister Barnaby Joyce’s exit from the Nationals, was encouraged. The political year was still accelerating rather than slowing down.
After Bondi, everything immediately became politicized: not attending the funeral, gun laws, whether to call a federal royal commission. In this divisive climate, Foreign Minister Penny Wong’s call to lower the temperature clearly sounded provocative to opposition ears. “I have never seen Penny Wong shed a single tear,” Ley shouted as she took the podium.
The morning after the massacre, I was standing next to the Liberal leader at Bondi Pavilion when he first started hearing from those affected. His arms were tense, his hands clenched tightly together, his face almost blank; He looked as shocked as the rest of us. Now, by voicing his anger so loudly, he may have strengthened his grip on the party — conservative politics has been so freewheeling lately that it’s hard to tell — but did such a personalized attack undermine his claim to national leadership?
Something he said on television the next day is also noteworthy. After speaking to the prime minister on the night of the attack, he had not had any subsequent meetings with him. This is yet another indication that bipartisanship has broken down and how political dialogue is being conducted in front of multiple microphones. I can’t remember a more angry week or two in Australian politics in the last 25 years. Likewise, in the quarter-century of covering terrorist attacks in North America, Europe, and South Asia, I have never seen a more disparaging political response.
There are contrasts to be drawn here with the bipartisan approach in America in the immediate aftermath of 9/11 in 2001, before the Bush administration’s invasion of Iraq had such a polarizing effect. As dusk turned to night on that terrible day, Republican and Democratic lawmakers gathered to sing on the steps of Capitol Hill God Bless America. After George W. Bush addressed a joint session of Congress on September 20, 2021, he was embraced by then-Senate Democratic leader Tom Daschle in another gesture of patriotic unity.
The attacks are certainly not similar. Al Qaeda targeted an entire country, not a specific community. However, the end of political hostilities was impressive in a city that had already become a cesspool of extreme partisanship at the turn of the century. John Howard experienced this firsthand when he watched smoke rise over the Pentagon on September 11.
Watching Anthony Albanese reminds me of George W. Bush’s response to the collapse of the Twin Towers. The US president at the time had difficulty finding appropriate words. Most of the time, his face looked ashen and he seemed overwhelmed by the magnitude of the crisis. His halting, almost syncopated delivery raised questions about his communication skills. It was only when Bush stood on the ruins of Ground Zero, megaphone in hand, that he finally found his voice.
By contrast, when Albanese returned to Bondi for the Day of Reflection vigil last Sunday, he was heckled by some in the crowd and not allowed to say a single word. For him, this must have felt like a day of revenge. Instead of putting his arms around members of the community, something he did privately with the victims’ families, he had to be hugged by his security detail. Governor-General Sam Mostyn, whose forced absence from the stage was carefully weighed and widely judged to be appropriate for the moment, spoke on behalf of the nation.
Watching a prime minister struggle to take command raises a broader question: Has the office itself been weakened and corrupted by the today-gone-tomorrow turmoil of the past 20 years? During this period, there were eight different premierships, compared to three between 1985 and 2005. During the COVID crisis, Scott Morrison has been overshadowed by popular state premiers such as Mark McGowan in Western Australia and Gladys Berejiklian in NSW. So much so that when Australian Financial Review Released 2021 power index, state chief ministers usurped the prime minister. Currently, NSW Premier Chris Minns, who was applauded at the Bondi vigil, has been portrayed as a lion. For the right-wing press, praising Minns became a way to denigrate Albanians.
Unfortunately, politics has entered the shouting phase where it still pays to listen.
Hopefully the holiday season will be neutralized. A partisan ceasefire would be welcomed. However, it is noteworthy that January, traditionally a period of rest, has recently turned into a season of political struggle; Both parties are determined to strike early to determine the course of the coming year. Then come the culture war tensions of Australia Day.
The beach vigil in Bondi ended with the singing of “I, you, we are Australians”. Unfortunately, this week will be remembered more for the cacophony of partisan anger.
Regular columnist Nick Bryant is a former BBC correspondent and author of: The Rise and Fall of Australia: How a Great Nation Lost Its Way.
Nick Bryant is a former BBC correspondent and the author of America’s Endless Conflict With Itself, The War Forever.
