Winston Churchill remarked that, “Some men change their party for the sake of their principles; others their principles for the sake of their party.” This was especially true for William Morris “Billy” Hughes, our most principled – and arguably audacious – Prime Minister.
Originally a Labor man, he pushed for conscription and held two plebiscites on the issue which were defeated. His caucus was fed up with him and threw him out in 1916. He challenged those who, “thought like him to follow him.” And he did and clung on to the Prime Ministership until 1923.
In this day and age, it’s more likely that the politician in question will sanction their party to electoral oblivion.
Principle in politics seems to be an anathema these days – everything’s stage managed and all that appears to be authentic is really just gossamer-wrapped in PR spin. It’s the bleeding obvious in politics these days. Even politicians are tired of it – the most recent example being the denouncement of the entire circus by former Labor Finance Minister Lindsay Tanner. But staying true to one’s convictions can often be a gamble that requires cunning and skill to really get controversial legislation over the line. But the carbon tax, this principled yet bitter pill will be harder for the electorate to swallow.
Even conviction is tempered by the media cycle. The last time a Prime Minister ruled something out completely and then made it the focus of his entire rationale for government was John Howard. In 1996 he thundered aloud that such a policy would “never ever” be Coalition policy. But within two years and a slashing of its sizeable 45 seat majority to a slender 12, we had it. In fact, we still have it. It was a principled stand that had its sizeable share of critics at the time, much like the carbon tax.
It was a matter of principle – a principle that cost the Coalition at the time 33 seats.
But if we look at the maths now, Julia Gillard and her government don’t have the luxury of 33 seats to squander on something they really believe in – they don’t even have the seats outright. By clawing on to power with the support of independents and a Green MP, her principled stands are costing her favor with the electorate. Now that her polling numbers as preferred Prime Minister have slumped to all time lows behind Tony Abbott, it’s a wonder why Ms. Gillard is taking a principled stand at all. Even the Greens have seemingly abandoned theirs, with their concessions on petrol almost echoing the Australian Democrats’ fall from grace with their backing of the GST. Now they’re scrambling to retain their principled sheen, saying the petrol promise isn’t permanent.
Even if the Gillard government did do a complete backflip on the carbon tax, it’s their job to sell it to us, to convince us that this principled stand is the right one for Australia. The scrutiny and the skepticism has been drawn from those unconvinced the sweeteners will dissolve any of the bitterness. But good policy doesn’t stand the test of time on principle alone.
The internet clean feed is another example o f principle – a principle wrapped up in enigmatic language from a cybernetic nether-dimension if you’re born before 1982. The clean feed will impose “mandatory ISP-level filtering of Refused Classification (RC) rated content” – in effect, a form of censorship that effects any computer with an internet connection in this country. In fact the clean feed is so principled, that if it were implemented, it would force ordinary Australians into what sites they can and cannot look at on the internet. Stephen Conroy is the ALP’s principled crusader rattling his electronic saber, also trying to sell us a network that promises faster access to the bits of the internet we’d still be allowed to see. It’s a principle – sure – but it’s also a principle no one wants.
As much as we’d loathe admitting it, we want our leaders to show some gumption – some vision – for our nation. The lights have been turned off in the broad church on the hill and our mainstream political discourse is seemingly all but devoid of principle; its hollowed out core has been filled with spin and turned on a disaffected electorate. If you want principle, you can use your binoculars to see out of the Overton window instead; but as we can see, there are scant signs of principle in Parliament. What we do have is almost-conviction policy that is either counter-productive or unpopular.
So can the spirit of Hughes return? At this juncture, it seems unlikely. If focus groups and polls ask us if we want conviction and we say we do, it’s unlikely we’ll ever see it again. What does that teach our future generations? Stand up for what you believe in – if you think you can get the numbers?
Hughes’ conviction and principles were not his undoing – it was the galvanizing force behind his vaulting ambition. But the conviction in this day and age is slain by a thousand tweets – or similar media campaign – all seemingly relegated to gilded annals of our long and storied history.
