Winning power at what cost?

By Simon Longstaff

A version of this article was first published: The Sunday Age - 21 October 2007

One of the wonders of our democracy is that it regularly allows for the transfer of power without bloodshed. This is an extraordinary achievement. For large numbers of people around the world, power only passes at the point of a sword; at the cost of countless lives lost and damaged. We have opted for a gentler contest, a series of trials that test politicians’ characters and intellect rather than their bodies.

This is not to imply that modern elections are a picnic. There are real dangers in a contest where a protagonist may not risk losing a limb but instead, their soul.

Of course the aim is to win power. But at what cost?

A democratic election is a ‘cold war’ and one of the most potent weapons available to contenders is the well-crafted question. The capacity of a good question to strike fear into the hearts of politicians is directly proportional to its focus on topics that they would prefer remain in the shadows of vague utterances, uncertain policy or public ambivalence. In order to avoid having the dark veil pierced by the light of such questions, politicians may be sorely tempted to shield themselves with a range of devices: equivocation, deflection, obfuscation, the half-truth, the non-core promise, the lie.

Politicians are not indifferent to the costs of misleading or deceptive conduct, and rarely employ the ‘shield’ for personal protection. Rather, its use is rationalised in terms of the public good. The reasoning is seductive and simple. First, Australian federal elections are an ‘all or nothing’ affair. Second, if you honestly believe that your party offers the best prospect for good government, then perhaps the ends will justify the means. Being ‘economical with the truth’ may be wrong – but a cost to be borne for the sake of winning power.

As the election unfolds, there are bound to be countless times when politicians are tempted to dodge the question because they fear the electoral consequences of telling the truth. With luck, those facing this temptation will take a moment to consider the wider context in which their decision must be made.

Whether myth or reality, Australian democracy rests on one central idea – that parliaments are elected and governments formed with the consent of the people. The better the democracy, the better the quality of that consent. We all know that the ‘gold standard’ is informed consent – something that can only be attained if truth and sincerity are adopted as the standards for every campaign.

When defeat may mean ruin for an individual or party, then of course there is pressure to compromise such standards. That is why elections are a crucible in which the characters of politicians are so sorely tested. We must hope that they do not fail. Individual politicians may emerge unscathed by acts of deception. But every ‘weasel word’ wounds our democracy; and the scars run deep.