Peter Malinauskas reframes Australian patriotism to win second term
The only real question was scale. By the time the count was finalized, Peter Malinauskas had achieved more than just a win; he had established himself as one of the most formidable political figures in the country.
Four years after ousting the first-term Liberal government, Malinauskas returned with a result that was bordering on extraordinary. This resulted in his opposition diminishing and the Labor government having a mandate that was both broad and deep.
But his victory wasn’t based solely on policy or momentum. It was shaped according to tone.
While the populist policy wave that attracted attention in the Western world eventually took hold within the country, Malinauskas chose not to directly confront this wave with his lines of attack. He reframed the argument by appealing to a distinctly Australian idea of patriotism based on participation rather than complaint.
With Pauline Hanson’s One Nation vote rising above 20 per cent and multiple seats in both houses of parliament, Malinauskas felt it was left to him to “take the heat” and unite frazzled voters.
While waiting in line at a voting booth on election day, he found a story to back up that message: a Vietnamese-born voter, a former boat user, quietly expressing his appreciation for the democratic process. To Malinauskas, this reflected something larger about the country.
“This seemed to me to be a clear sign of what patriotism can look like,” he said from the victory podium.
To make this point he returned to Henry Lawson and his tradition of quiet pride and generosity contrasted with loud forms of nationalism abroad.
“’It is the duty of Australians in the bush and in town to forever praise their country but not to disparage anyone else,’” he paraphrased.
This was a deliberate contrast to the more strident politics seen in the United States and Britain: a reminder that Australian patriotism, at least in Malinauskas’ telling, was less about grievance and more about civility.
“Australians’ version of patriotism is slightly different… less brash and boastful, more stubborn and determined,” he said.
It remains to be seen what he chooses to do with the authority given to him. But he was never inclined to sit on it. Malinauskas governed with broad strides and speed, rejecting the incrementalism that had long shaped South Australian politics.
What sets it apart is not just the scale of its majority, but also the scope of its leadership. Adelaide’s Malinauskas has shown it’s possible to shape national debates, weigh in on aged care, help steer the debate on social media restrictions and step into federal policy fights when South Australia decides it has a stake.
Adelaide Writers’ Week has decided to provide a platform for Palestinian-Australian author Randa Abdel-Fattah. He blew up the incident and alienated much of his base. He has no regrets.
He also combined politics with promotion. It is no coincidence that major events such as LIV Golf, the AFL’s Roundup and the return of MotoGP have been recorded; It is at the heart of a wider project: to reshape South Australia as self-reliant, outward-looking and eager to compete.
According to Graham Cornes, the founding coach of Adelaide’s first AFL club and long-time commercial radio presenter, the explanation for Malinauskas’ dominance ultimately rests on something less tangible. According to Cornes, he is one of those rare politicians whose personal appeal stands out; someone whose character resonates regardless of party.
The comparison Cornes draws on is former SA premier Don Dunstan, who remains the state’s benchmark for transformative leadership.
“Every now and then politicians come along with great charisma, and he happens to be one of them,” Cornes says. “His personality, and indeed his character, trumps his political leanings. It’s hard not to like him.”
Cornes says big events are “huge” for South Australia’s tourism, but warns they may just be a sugar rush.
Risks of overreach, missteps, and complacency remain. But for now, they are secondary to the scale of the opportunity.
“There are other important issues like the cost of living and healthcare, which, you know, he’s addressing those to be fair and trying to address them. He hasn’t been perfect, but I think he’s put in a lot of effort and earned himself a place once again,” Cornes says.
For long-time breakfast TV host David Koch Sunrise and with his Adelaide exports Malinauskas approximates an exemplary body politic: disciplined, focused and instinctively connected.
Koch described him as the kind of “test tube politician” you would devise if you could start from scratch, and acknowledged that it was “almost un-Australian” to praise a politician so directly.
This tension between skepticism towards politicians and recognition of effectiveness runs through Malinauskas’ call.
“He challenged South Australians to think big,” says Koch. “He gives people confidence and uses that trust to lead them to actually get things done.”
He has built a personality that is approachable without being loose, controlled without appearing aloof. He can work in a corporate office, then easily enter the stands at a football game. The balance is intentional.
It has a harder edge underneath. Those who have watched him closely point to a relentless ability to persuade, working every conversation, every opportunity, until an outcome changes. The effort to secure the Gather Round for South Australia is often cited as an example of this: a clear goal executed with persistence, timing and precision.
“He’s a real person,” Koch says. “He supports his belief, even if it’s unpopular. People react to that.”
This is also part of a broader effort to change how the state sees itself. Malinauskas challenged what some have historically described as a parochial mentality.
There is also a willingness to go beyond party boundaries when necessary. Malinauskas did not hesitate to leave the federal Labor Party or take positions that transcended national settings if he believed the state would lose; this preparation helped raise his profile well beyond Adelaide.
That trust is based on method rather than mere instinct, according to Stephen Smith, the former high commissioner to the United Kingdom who worked with Malinauskas in the early days of AUKUS.
Smith’s assessment is of a leader who is intellectually curious, strategically focused, and sensitive to the national interest as well as his state’s priorities.
In early discussions of the submarine program, Malinauskas first sought to understand the broader strategic rationale before advancing South Australia’s case; The approach put forward by Smith is unusual among prime ministers. Whether dealing with local stakeholders or international colleagues, he listens, processes, and then argues his position openly.
“Whether he’s at a standoff, meeting the UK’s secretary of state for defense, or meeting the local mayor in Barrow, he’s very impressive,” says Smith. “He has a very good bedside manner.”
These qualities fueled persistent speculation about a move to Canberra. It is widely accepted within Labor ranks that he is capable of stepping into a senior national role.
“Whether he decides to make that leap at some stage remains to be seen,” says former foreign secretary Smith. “He might not. I think family, the local community and South Australia, doing ordinary and humble things every day, are what he’s made of and are very important to him.”
The focus for now is on a second term, which is unlikely to be smaller than the first. Malinauskas is expected to push for an overhaul of the GST distribution system, a long-standing frustration for smaller states, and to intensify his advocacy for South Australia’s nickel industry as a linchpin of the global energy transition.
Nickel, which is becoming increasingly critical for electric vehicle batteries and high-performance alloys, offers the government a strategic opportunity. Malinauskas framed it not just as a resource play but as part of a broader industrial strategy connecting mining, manufacturing and future-proof industries.
“I think when we assess the situation and he eventually leaves, he will be among the best of Labor leaders,” says Clement Macintyre, emeritus professor of politics at the University of Adelaide.
“I think it was easier to be the charismatic Don Dunstan in the 1970s than it is in the 2020s. I think voters are a lot more skeptical now, there’s less faith and trust in politicians. So what he’s achieved is impressive.”
Alexander Downer, part of the Liberal establishment in South Australia, says Malinauskas is a safe pair of hands as prime minister.
“He is calm and good-natured despite attacks from his political rivals,” he says. “He doesn’t have the Keating or Trump style of berating his opponents with personal abuse. That appeals to the public.”
Even Hanson took time to praise while warning that his tribe would hold him accountable for the next four years.
“Guess what, buddy?” he said. “I’m leaving some land mines for you… so don’t step on them because they’ll explode.”
But in a country where praising politicians is almost said to be un-Australian, Malinauskas has achieved something unusual: sustained momentum, a reservoir of authority and a level of begrudging admiration that extends far beyond his own side of politics.
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Rob Harris is a national correspondent for The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age, based in Canberra. He is a former European correspondent.Connect via email.
