Tony should ditch friends like these

POLITICS ... with Mungo MacCallum

My mother used to have a homely saying for it: “Tell me who your friends are, and I’ll tell you who you are”. If this adage is to be applied to the events of last week, it would appear that Tony Abbott is a raving ratbag and a ranting bigot whose ignorance of science is matched only by his lack of manners.

The howling mob who surrounded him at the mini-rally outside Parliament House last Wednesday undoubtedly included some who were genuinely concerned about the impact a carbon tax might have on their household budgets and the wider economy, but the ones making the noise – including the majority of the speakers – came straight from la-la land.
If Abbott really believes that this manifestation of his people’s revolution represents a snap-shot of middle Australia, he has a truly bizarre picture of the nation he seeks to lead. Not many middle Australians seek to spend a working-day morning paying to be bussed to Canberra for a campaign supported by the shock-jock Chris Smith, a gibbering demagogue in the style of Alan Jones but without the couth.
And those who did would hardly have felt comfortable surrounded by the wild-eyed conspiracy-theorists of One Nation, The League of Rights, and the self-appointed Consumers and Taxpayers Association, to name but three of the right-wing rent-a-crowds who leapt gratefully on board Chris Smith’s bandwagon. As another homily has it, a man is known by the company he keeps. Abbott must have seen that the gathering was pretty much out of control before making an appearance.
To have done so at all was crazy-brave, but to have done so with out taking the elementary precaution of moving the more offensive placards out of camera range was madness. After all, there is a precedent.
In 1970 Gough Whitlam as opposition leader was called out of Parliament to address what was advertised as a rally against the Vietnam war. Unfortunately not all the protesters were pacifists; some were waving Viet Cong flags, and an enterprising photographer from the Sydney Daily Telegraph set up a shot which made it appear that Whitlam was speaking underneath them.
There were immediate and thunderous repercussions; the deputy Prime Minister of the day, John McEwen, declared in Parliament that Whitlam should be charged with treason. Eventually other photographs were located which showed Whitlam had actually been nowhere near the offending flags, but a great deal of damage was done.
Abbott and his loyal supporters tried to get out of their predicament by saying that in objecting to being labelled “Juliar: Bob Browns Bitch” the Prime Minister was just being precious; after all, John Howard had been called some mean and hurtful things too, on placards at rallies which had been addressed by Labor ministers Greg Combet and Bill Shorten.
True; but at those rallies neither Combet nor Shorten was presenting himself as the alternative Prime Minister. In fact neither was even in parliament; they were simply trade union officials. And if Abbott could not see the difference, a lot of his colleagues were uncomfortably aware of it. Most, including his deputy Julie Bishop, his treasury spokesman Joe Hockey and of course Malcolm Turnbull, had declined the invitation to show themselves.
In the end his praetorian guard consisted of Eric Abetz, Barnaby Joyce, Bronwyn Bishop, Sophie Mirabella and Cory Bernardi – fringe dwellers all. In any situation it would not have been a good look; at that rally with those placards it was a public relations disaster.
And the final irony is that Abbott didn’t even endear himself to the ralliers. Of course they cheered when he inveighed against the carbon tax, but there were gasps of horror, mutterings of discontent and even a few audible boos when he told them that the scientific evidence was that climate change was real, and at least partly man-made.
This was not what they had heard from Alan Jones and Chris Smith; and it should not be forgotten that Abbott’s personal religious adviser, Cardinal-Archbishop George Pell, was a fervent and vocal denier of climate change. But here was Abbott, mouthing heresy – even blasphemy. Was their hero turning, God forbid, rational?
This, of course, is Abbott’s ongoing political contradiction. He says he believes the science, but rejects the scientific solution. Instead he proposes “direct action”, which is populist nonsense, and calls for a people’s revolution to oppose the only effective measure, a price on carbon.
But if the people believe the science, very few of them will join the revolution; for his shock troops, he has to rely on sceptics and denialists, who inevitably include large numbers of nutters. And there will be more rallies, perhaps bigger and better and noisier.
Will Abbott continue to address them? If he does he’s asking for trouble but if he doesn’t he risks being seen as a coward and a hypocrite. There is an old political rule: never set up an inquiry unless you are certain of the result. Abbott should consider a corollary: never call for a revolution unless you can choose your own revolutionaries.

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So the long-awaited ritual slaughter has taken place in New South Wales, and the righteous bloodlust of the electorate has been assuaged, at least for the time being. But there is more, much more, to be done if those who are really guilty are to be included in the purge.

The surviving true believers must don protective clothing and make their way into the cesspool of Sussex Street with flamethrowers and fire hoses. Only when the poisonous blindworms who have masterminded the catastrophe have been utterly expunged can the party begin its long overdue task of renewal.
The signs are not good; just about the only person to have emerged from the debacle with any honour or credibility, Kristina Kenneally, has effectively abandoned the front line. In these parlous times it will be hard to find anyone else with the courage or stamina to lead the attack.
But unless the brutal work is done, New South Wales Labor’s malaise will remain beyond human aid.