Australia's Tony Abbott is a man for everyone and no one

His campaign was a disturbing example of politics at its most crass and exploitative.

Editor's note: On 7 September, the Liberal-National coalition won the election and Tony Abbott became prime minister

On the 4 April, in the great stone-and-glass National Gallery of Victoria in Melbourne, luminaries descended to celebrate the 70th Anniversary of the Institute of Public Affairs (IPA), Australia’s leading free-market think-tank.

Tickets to the gala dinner cost a minimum of AU$500 (£340) per head, and an auction to raise funds for the IPA featured prizes including a guided tour of the Reagan Ranch in California and a behind the scenes Fox News “experience” in New York City, including a meeting with host Bill O’Reilly . Among the speakers were Rupert Murdoch, journalist Andrew Bolt, billionaire mining magnate Gina Rinehart, and a man named Tony Abbott, Leader of the Opposition.

Focus on Abbott has increased since Labor Prime Minister Julia Gillard announced that the Australian federal elections will be held on 14 September. After a disastrous few years for Gillard, Abbott is now the favourite against the incumbent; the man who may lead the Liberal/National coalition to victory.

Indeed, a number of recent opinion polls put Abbott ahead of Gillard, whose premiership has attracted controversy and misfortune since her election in 2010. This year alone her loosening grip on power has resulted in the Greens withdrawing their backing from Labor, an attempted leadership coup, an increasingly factionalised party, and resignations of key ministers. This has tarnished the image of Labor, and is driving away a not insignificant portion of its core vote. With the help of a largely right-wing media, Tony Abbott is working hard to capture swing voters. If he is successful, he will bring a particularly aggressive form of conservatism to Australia.

Faith or power?

Anthony John Abbott was born in London in 1957 to Australian expats, but grew up in Sydney. He attended a Jesuit high school, and later graduated from the University of Sydney with two Bachelors – in economics and law.

It was during his studies that Abbott met the man who would become one of the most important influences on his thought, B A Santamaria . Known as "Bob", Santamaria was a hugely controversial Australian Catholic political activist, strongly involved in anti-communist and social conservative movements. Abbott has described Santamaria as his “first and greatest mentor” and “a philosophical star by which you could always steer.”

In 1941, Santamaria founded the Catholic Social Studies Movement (known as "the Movement") which, among other activities, recruited Catholic activists to infiltrate trade unions in an attempt to prevent the spread of communism. This ultimately affected the Australian Labor Party, turning Labor leftists against anti-communist Labor Catholics, resulting in a party split, and the formation of the now defunct Democratic Labor Party (DLP) in 1955. As president of the Movement from 1943 till 1957, Santamaria was a key influence on these events.

Following a Rhodes scholarship at Oxford, and an aborted stint at St Patrick’s Seminary in New South Wales, Abbott finally made the decision to go into politics. In a series of letters to Santamaria , he agonised over which party – Labor or Liberal – to join, writing “To join either existing party involves holding one's nose.” He was offered a job working for Santamaria’s organisation, the National Civic Council, but eventually decided to join the Liberal Party. When he won the pre-selection contest for Warringah, Sydney in 1994, Santamaria declined to give him a reference.

Though Abbott has arguably been driven by a genuine belief in the common good and the Biblical "golden rule" – “do unto others as you would have them do unto you” – his deep faith is often at the mercy of his ambitions for power. Indeed, the main reason he entered the Seminary was because he wanted to become the Archbishop of Sydney, no less. His rejection of Santamaria is merely the first in a litany of occasions where Abbott allowed his Machiavellian instincts to get the better of his religion.

Battling "big government"

In many of the speeches at the IPA’s 70th Anniversary celebrations, socialism (for these purposes, synonymous with "communism") appeared again and again as the great evil, set in contrast to the great virtue of freedom. Rupert Murdoch argued that true morality lies in the free-market rather than socialism because “it gives people incentives to put their own wants and needs aside to address the wants and needs of others.” Fostered by the likes of B A Santamaria – who zealously justified his opposition to Communism through tactics of apocalyptic fear-mongering – a dangerous degree of certainty and hostility has permeated some influential sections of Australian society, creating the backdrop on which to build a narrative of Manichean extremes; where morality is black and white, and the ‘good’ can win only by destroying the "evil". Politics is zero-sum. Compromise is failure.

As he praised Murdoch in his IPA speech, itself weighty with Biblical references, the tradition of politics Tony Abbott has embraced was clear – that of obstinacy, demagoguery, and dogmatism.

Reforms promised by Abbott during the speech included privatizing Medibank; the state-owned private health insurer for over three million Australians, and repealing Section 18C of the Racial Discrimination Act. This latter policy is justified ostensibly in the name of free speech and the recognition of Australia’s Western heritage; something Abbott called “the new Great Australian silence”, absurdly comparing it to the disregard with which Australia treats its history of violence against Aboriginal people. If Section 18C is repealed, racial hatred will effectively be sanctioned by law.

As well as this, Abbott wishes to cut back public spending, regressively reduce personal and corporate taxes, and strengthen Australia’s borders to create a country “where the boats are stopped – with tough and proven measures.” 

It is worth noting that Australia rode out the global financial crisis relatively unscathed. Abbott voted against the AU$42bn stimulus that helped keep Australia out of recession, but despite his convictions, today the country’s government debt as a percentage of GDP is a mere 27 per cent – lower than that of Sweden, Norway, and Qatar – and it enjoys a triple-A credit rating from all three of the main ratings agencies. It is also experiencing a sustained mining boom along with steady GDP growth, fuelled largely by Chinese consumption. This has meant that the average household income in Australia has become much higher than the equivalent in the UK or the US – roughly AU$64,168 per year, equivalent to £43,590 in the UK or $66,765 in the US.

Why, then, are neoliberal economic policies being proposed by Abbott, and meeting with such positive popular sentiment in such a prosperous country? In short, the situation in Europe is being used in Australia to create fear and distrust in big government policies. The false narrative of unsustainable public spending and high taxes leading to financial crash and recession has been a potent tool in justifying further neoliberal reforms across the world. We have it now in the UK, and Australia wants to be next. Abbott, aware of the power of such fearful narratives, is using them to his advantage despite having once written to Santamaria of the Liberal Party that it was populated by “…more or less simple-minded advocates of the free market.”

They say jump…

In July 2011 a secret video recording was made, which showed ‘Lord’ Christopher Monckton – a British affiliate of UKIP and a climate skeptic – addressing a free-market think tank sponsored by billionaire mining tycoon Gina Rinehart. In the video, Monckton suggested that a new satellite TV channel, “an Australian version of Fox News”, should be set up by the “super rich”, complete with right-wing commenters like Jo Nova and Andrew Bolt but, like Fox, keeping the news “fair and balanced” to retain a veneer of respectability. The aim of this was to oppose climate change policies perceived to be damaging to business interests, such as the mining ‘super profits’ and carbon emissions tax, which at the time were not yet law.

In February 2012, Gina Reinhart purchased shares in Fairfax Media. “Good on Gina for being prepared to invest in journalism at a difficult time,” was Abbott’s take on the deal. Rinehart had already acquired shares in Ten Network Holdings in 2010, where right-wing, climate skeptic journalist Andrew Bolt began his show ‘The Bolt Report’ the following year. Rupert Murdoch owns a significant portion of the rest of the Australian media landscape, while one of the IPA’s goals is to have ABC, Australia’s public broadcasting service (and believers in man-made climate change) broken up and put out to tender>.

In Australia the debate about climate change is even more intense than anywhere else because carbon emissions are closely linked with mining, which brings a large amount of money to the economy through exports and jobs. In July 2012 two long-debated taxes on mining super profits and carbon emissions were painfully introduced following years of debate through different administrations. The country remains divided over this issue, with climate skeptics, mining interests, and libertarians lobbying hard for the repeal of both taxes.

During his IPA speech, Abbott sided with these interests; promising to abolish the Department of Climate Change, abolish the Clean Energy Fund, and repeal Julia Gillard’s already watered down super profits tax should he be elected. That Gina Rinehart was in the audience did not go amiss. That Abbott had reversed his stance on a carbon tax and an emissions trading scheme did. Indeed, until becoming leader of the Liberal Party in 2009, he supported an emissions trading scheme. The influence of figures like Rinehart, along with the Murdoch media, the IPA, and the mining lobby are clearly visible on this ruthless shift.

It is hard to say for sure whether Tony Abbott will win the election in September. He was not the Liberal Party’s first choice for leader, and the polls are close. Nonetheless, despite his numerous gaffes, awkward manner, and unscrupulous power play, he is doing no worse than his opponent, and is a disturbing example of politics at its most crass and exploitative. Abbott is a man for everyone and no one, a flatterer of the rich and powerful, and an open vanguard for neoliberal hawks to pull apart the social contract. If he is elected, Australia will no longer be “the lucky country”. 

Tony Abbott. Photograph: Getty Images

Liam McLaughlin is a freelance journalist who has also written for Prospect and the Huffington Post. He tweets irregularly @LiamMc108.

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Love a good box set? Then you should watch the Snooker World Championships

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. 

People are lazy and people are impatient. This has always been so – just ask Moses or his rock – but as illustrated by kindly old Yahweh, in those days they could not simply answer those impulses and stroll on.

Nowadays, that is no longer so. Twitter, YouTube and listicles reflect a desire for complex and involved issues, expansive and nuanced sports – what we might term quality – to be condensed into easily digestible morsels for effort-free enjoyment.

There is, though, one notable exception to this trend: the box set. Pursuing a novelistic, literary sensibility, it credits its audience with the power of sentience and tells riveting stories slowly, unfolding things in whichever manner that it is best for them to unfold.

In the first episode of the first series of The Sopranos, we hear Tony demean his wife Carmela's irritation with him via the phrase “always with the drama”; in the seventh episode of the first series we see his mother do likewise to his father; and in the 21st and final episode of the sixth and final series, his son uses it on Carmela. It is precisely this richness and this care that makes The Sopranos not only the finest TV show ever made, but the finest artefact that contemporary society has to offer. It forces us to think, try and feel.

We have two principal methods of consuming art of this ilk - weekly episode, or week-long binge. The former allows for anticipation and contemplation, worthy pursuits both, but of an entirely different order to the immersion and obsession offered by the latter. Who, when watching the Wire, didn’t find themselves agreeing that trudat, it's time to reup the dishwasher salt, but we’ve run out, ain’t no thing. Losing yourself in another world is rare, likewise excitement at where your mind is going next.

In a sporting context, this can only be achieved via World Championship snooker. Because snooker is a simple, repetitive game, it is absorbing very quickly, its run of play faithfully reflected by the score.

But the Worlds are special. The first round is played over ten frames – as many as the final in the next most prestigious competition – and rather than the usual week, it lasts for 17 magical days, from morning until night. This bestows upon us the opportunity to, figuratively at least, put away our lives and concentrate. Of course, work and family still exist, but only in the context of the snooker and without anything like the same intensity. There is no joy on earth like watching the BBC’s shot of the championship compilation to discover that not only did you see most of them live, but that you have successfully predicted the shortlist.

It is true that people competing at anything provides compelling drama, emotion, pathos and bathos - the Olympics proves this every four years. But there is something uniquely nourishing about longform snooker, which is why it has sustained for decades without significant alteration.

The game relies on a steady arm, which relies on a steady nerve. The result is a slow creeping tension needs time and space to be properly enjoyed and endured. Most frequently, snooker is grouped with darts as a non-athletic sport, instead testing fine motor skills and the ability to calculate angles, velocity and forthcoming shots. However, its tempo and depth is more similar to Test cricket – except snooker trusts so much in its magnificence that it refuses to compromise the values which underpin it.

Alfred Hitchcock once explained that if two people are talking and a bomb explodes without warning, it constitutes surprise; but if two people are talking and all the while a ticking bomb is visible under the table, it constitutes suspense. “In these conditions,” he said, “The same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: ‘You shouldn't be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!’”

Such is snooker. In more or less every break, there will at some point be at least one difficult shot, loss of position or bad contact – and there will always be pressure. Add to that the broken flow of things – time spent waiting for the balls to stop, time spent prowling around the table, time spent sizing up the table, time spent cleaning the white, time spent waiting for a turn – and the ability for things to go wrong is constantly in contemplation.

All the more so in Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre. This venue, in its 40th year of hosting the competition, is elemental to its success. Place is crucial to storytelling, and even the word “Crucible” – whether “a ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures,” “a situation of severe trial”, or Arthur Miller’s searing play – conjures images of destruction, injustice and nakedness. And the actual Crucible is perhaps the most atmospheric arena in sport - intimate, quiet, and home to a legendarily knowledgeable audience, able to calculate when a player has secured a frame simply by listening to commentary through an earpiece and applauding as soon as the information is communicated to them.

To temper the stress, snooker is also something incredibly comforting. This is partly rooted in its scheduling. Working day and late-night sport is illicit and conspiratorial, while its presence in revision season has entire cohorts committing to “just one more quick frame”, and “just one more quick spliff”. But most powerfully of all, world championship snooker triggers memory and nostalgia, a rare example of something that hasn’t changed, as captivating now as it was in childhood.

This wistfulness is complemented by sensory pleasure of the lushest order. The colours of both baize and balls are the brightest, most engaging iterations imaginable, while the click of cue on ball, the clunk of ball on ball and the clack of ball on pocket is deep and musical; omnipresent and predictable, they combine for a soundtrack that one might play to a baby in the womb, instead of whale music or Megadeth.

Repeating rhythms are also set by the commentators, former players of many years standing. As is natural with extended coverage of repetitive-action games, there are numerous phrases that recur:

“We all love these tactical frames, but the players are so good nowadays that one mistake and your opponent’s in, so here he is, looking to win the frame at one visit ... and it’s there, right in the heart of the pocket for frame and match! But where’s the cue ball going! it really is amazing what can happen in the game of snooker, especially when we’re down to this one-table situation.”

But as omniscient narrators, the same men also provide actual insight, alerting us to options and eventualities of which we would otherwise be ignorant. Snooker is a simple game but geometry and physics are complicated, so an expert eye is required to explain them intelligibly; it is done with a winning combination of levity and sincerity.

The only essential way in which snooker is different is the standard of play. The first round of this year’s draw featured eight past winners, only two of whom have made it to the last four, and there were three second-round games that were plausible finals.

And just as literary fiction is as much about character as plot, so too is snooker. Nothing makes you feel you know someone like studying them over years at moments of elation and desolation, pressure and release, punctuated by TV confessions of guilty pleasures, such as foot massages, and bucket list contents, such as naked bungee jumping.

It is probably true that there are not as many “characters” in the game as once there were, but there are just as many characters, all of whom are part of that tradition. And because players play throughout their adult life, able to establish their personalities, in unforgiving close-up, over a number of years, they need not be bombastic to tell compelling stories, growing and undergoing change in the same way as Dorothea Brooke or Paulie Gualtieri.

Of no one is this more evident that Ding Junhui, runner-up last year and current semi-finalist this; though he is only 30, we have been watching him almost half his life. In 2007, he reached the final of the Masters tournament, in which he faced Ronnie O’Sullivan, the most naturally talented player ever to pick up a cue – TMNTPETPUAC for short. The crowd were, to be charitable, being boisterous, and to be honest, being pricks, and at the same time, O’Sullivan was playing monumentally well. So at the mid-session interval, Ding left the arena in tears and O’Sullivan took his arm in consolation; then when Ding beat O’Sullivan in this year’s quarter-final, he rested his head on O’Sullivan’s shoulder and exchanged words of encouragement for words of respect. It was beautiful, it was particular, and it was snooker.

Currently, Ding trails Mark Selby, the “Jester from Leicester” – a lucky escape, considering other rhyming nouns - in their best of 33 encounter. Given a champion poised to move from defending to dominant, the likelihood is that Ding will remain the best player never to win the game’s biggest prize for another year.

Meanwhile, the other semi-final pits Barry Hawkins, a finalist in 2013, against John Higgins, an undisputed great and three-time champion. Higgins looks likely to progress, and though whoever wins through will be an outsider, both are eminently capable of taking the title. Which is to say that, this weekend, Planet Earth has no entertainment more thrilling, challenging and enriching than events at the Crucible Theatre, Sheffield.

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