A critique of The Crown as the epic series went on was that the later episodes suffered from the fact the storylines did not see the Queen and her family involved as much in the political crises of the day, or even offering windows into the changing times, as had been the case in earlier episodes.
Events like the Suez Crisis, or the mining disaster in the Welsh village of Aberfan in 1966, or the rise and fall of Margaret
More recent episodes, critics observed, had become not much more than a soap opera. It’s hardly the fault of the people making the program. That’s just sort of how it has been.
There is a bit of the same sense about Nemesis: the ABC’s latest compelling instalment documenting politicians fronting the cameras to tell us what they really thought when they were in government.
The fact that so many of them actually front up to do this, to paint their colleagues, and even themselves, in the most ghastly light, makes it unmissable television.
In a similar way to The Crown, there is a sense that power tussles over actual policy in the Hawke government — on top of the rather spectacular ambitions and skulduggery that loomed in those days — hasn’t really been matched in more recent times.
You don’t get much of a sense that policy disagreements — except perhaps on climate change — really had all that much of a dynamic role in shaping the Abbott, Turnbull, (and next Monday) Morrison governments.
Instead, the picture in Nemesis is of a drama relentlessly driven purely by political optics, personal enmities and ambitions.
Tony didn’t like Malcolm. Malcolm didn’t like Tony. Tony didn’t like to be contradicted. Malcolm’s political judgements sometimes left a lot to be desired.
In a way, the most important part of something like Nemesis is that it reminds us that all the people in it had choices at various points of time, and didn’t know what was going to happen next.
This contrasts with a lot of history which speaks with the retrospective confidence that everything that happened was obvious and pre-ordained.
Opportunity and necessity
All this came to mind this week watching the morphing of the political discussion about the Albanese government’s change of heart on the stage 3 tax cuts, against the backdrop of federal parliament returning for its first sitting of the year.
It’s just two weeks since the prime minister confirmed at the National Press Club on January 25 that the government was going to completely restructure the tax cuts legislated to come into effect on July 1 this year by the Morrison government in 2019.
After setting out the changes the government was proposing to make in his speech, Anthony Albanese addressed the elephant in the room: that Labor had promised voters at the 2022 election that it would implement the tax cuts.
“I’ve always said I’d be up-front with people and take responsibility for the decisions my government makes”, he said.
“I’m doing that today.
“When economic circumstances change, the right thing to do is change your economic policy.”
The back story, of course, is that Labor had pledged time and time again that it would not revisit these tax cuts, despite the fact its distaste for the way they were restructured had always been clear.
The change of heart was driven by both opportunity and necessity: voters have been confronted by the biggest cost of living shock in a generation and in its determination to not make policy decisions that would run counter to the anti-inflationary aims of the Reserve Bank, the government had been giving cost of living relief … but mostly through measures that didn’t involve cash in hand.
And here was an already budgeted-for — allowed for in RBA inflation forecasts — hand back of taxpayer funds which, with a redirection towards “Middle Australia”, could deliver that very cash in hand.
Suddenly, changing the tax cuts had both some economic credibility and a political rationale — though there was the problem that it would expose the prime minister to the charge that he was a liar.
Bad politics became clever politics
It’s been a while — in fact, a very long while — since the circumstances, or even the opportunity, was there for Labor, rather than the Coalition, to change directions.
And you could sense a great of deal of caution and trepidation within the government about whether the risks would be worth it.
This must have only been reinforced by the fact that no less than 13 of the questions from the media at the National Press Club on January 25 went to the impact of the PM’s broken promise (while around six dealt with issues like cost of living relief for non-taxpayers).
The News Corp tabloids also went bananas, painting Albanese as a liar.
But the way the media has dealt with these tax changes, the way the narrative has shifted, has been about more than the Murdoch stable’s usual hostility to Labor.
Somehow, when perhaps you weren’t looking, this terrible decision which would haunt the PM until the next election has morphed into a cynical political move designed to shore up the Dunkley by-election.
Bad politics had become cunningly clever politics.
Opposition Leader Peter Dutton said the move had been all driven by politics.
The Coalition’s equally pragmatic assessment that it would have to back the popular changes had become a humiliation.
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Forget the political horse race
While this morphing of commentary was taking place, polls showed overwhelming support for the tax cuts.
Faster than the media, voters were able to pragmatically see that the tax changes were in the interests of the majority, however that happened. Voters might put away for another day the question of Albanese breaking his word.
Let’s be honest. The government of a party that hasn’t exactly had a lot of lucky economic breaks in recent decades, or been particularly sure-footed about exploiting any if they had turned up, can’t believe its luck.
But there’s a broader point here: Political reporting can often carry a slightly shocked moralistic tone that reflects on the fact that politicians — who knew? — do politics!
In assessing whether to get irate about it or not, it might occasionally be worth putting a bit more weight on what the impact of the move might be on the majority of taxpayers and voters, rather than defaulting to what it means for the political horse race.
The change in the debate that flows from the stage 3 decision is more significant than whether people trust Albanese in future.
Already, journalists and the opposition are pounding the government on whether it’s also going to change its position on other tax issues, like negative gearing.
It’s a perfectly valid question, but one that isn’t going to be answered until another combination of circumstances colludes to make it possible.
In the meantime, it appears that with the Coalition holding out the prospect of more tax cuts to be offered at the next election, the door has been reopened on the prospect of an actual tax reform debate before the next election.
And with it, the possibility of a political debate that is hopefully more than a soap opera.
Laura Tingle is 7.30’s chief political correspondent.