There are moments in politics when even the Drop Bear Dispatch lowers its voice. This is one of them. A serious time. A reflective time. Publicly, the mood is sombre. Privately, though, the knives are out, being prepared for sharpness and suitability for back insertion.
Any adults in the house?
In a moment when cool heads are required, Sussan Ley has emerged in the way a twelve-year-old is energised after being handed the keys to a Ferrari. Ley has embraced the language of unity with the enthusiasm of someone thrilled to discover that standing for nothing of benefit is, in fact, a position.
“This is a time to bring people together,” Ley insists, carefully avoiding any substance resembling perspective, direction, or facts. It is, we are told, “liberating” to lead without burdening oneself with any meaning.
John Howard resurrected – again
John Howard, Australia’s most durable political ghost, has inevitably floated back into view to explain that unity is vital. But only during crises where only he is in charge. Howard’s timing remains impeccable. Just as the Coalition teeters, the old bloke materialises, finger wagging, to remind everyone that his past was perfect and deviation from this is betrayal.
“The old bastard’s still on top of his game,” one staffer excitedly said. “Every time we’re on the edge, he turns up, amps it up, and drags us all a little further back. Pure magic.”
One Nation to the rescue – again
Naturally, Pauline Hanson has emerged from the shrubbery to explain that everything which is wrong is caused by wokeness, migrants, and everything that is not Pauline Hanson. Rumour has it there’s not a single mirror in her house.
Ever the uninvited mourner, Hanson has generously offered the Coalition her own brand of unity: abandon moderation, embrace paranoia, and be more like Pauline Hanson.
Barnaby Joyce meanwhile, has taken his usual measured, entirely statesmanlike approach by loudly making it clear he doesn’t understand what’s going on. Joyce warned, “Unity? Yeah, nah mate, just woke”, before stumbling off in search of another microphone and another grievance.
On this solemn occasion, we pause. We reflect. And then we watch with frustration as the race to the bottom speeds up.
