The elevation of Dominic Perrottet to the Premiership of New South Wales caused a flurry of commentary about his religious faith. In many parts of the media his politics and personality were framed by his Catholicism. I watched on with a degree of discomfort, and with a sense of possibility. Could some of the bigoted characterisations invite a richer conversation about the ideals and deeper narratives that enliven our public leaders?
Some of the interest and almost immediate opprobrium might have been a relief to Perottet. Being banned from Kyle Sandilands radio show apparently because of his socially conservative views is surely a silver lining. That the ban came while Sandilands and his co-host were talking on air to a psychic gives the context. But it does not explain why so much of the mainstream press utilised the religious framing and were suspicious, at best, of what it might mean. Even Media Watch, the ABC’s critical eye on the media and its biases, introduced the incoming Premier as ‘conservative Catholic, Dominic Perrottet’.
The Sydney Morning Herald’s first opinion piece after Perrottet became the frontrunner to take over from Gladys Berejiklian framed his ascendence through his religious commitments, with Stephanie Dowrick describing him as ‘a highly conservative Catholic with views that represent the most extreme end of a rigidly male-dominated institutional church.’ Dowrick considered it critical Perottet not be made Premier to contain the ‘growing representation of highly conservative Christians in positions of great power’ in Australia. The last comment obviously references Prime Minister Scott Morrison’s Christian Pentecostalism, a part of his political identity much scorned but rarely fully explored, in a manner repeated in much of the response to Perottet’s assumption of office.
The ABC News online Perrottet ‘explainer’ suggested that his ‘family ideals are fierce’, citing his being one of 13 children, and having 6 children with his wife, Helen. The number of children has been given pointed attention, much of it beyond the legitimate questions about how the Premier will manage work and family life. This to say nothing of the grubby social media commentary that followed the recent announcement of a seventh child.
Perrottet’s school, attended two decades ago, was also highlighted, that ABC ‘explainer’ and other news sites initially claiming it was run by Opus Dei. Though the online piece now acknowledges that the school is independent with an Opus Dei chaplain, and though the prelature is no longer described as a ‘sect’, it is still described as having ‘historically been accused of secrecy, elitism and misogyny.’ Dan Brown’s job done.
This might all seem to be water under the bridge. The commentariat has moved on to the policy decisions the new Premier is taking as New South Wales transitioning through Covid response settings. Still, the issue hangs in the air and it’s hard to imagine a political leader from another religious tradition having their faith, or in most cases denomination, act as shorthand for their political identity. It’s even more difficult to imagine a non-religious contemporary politician being framed so quickly and critically by an underlying belief system.
'What is the underlying narrative and what are the consequent values of a political leader, what fires her moral imagination, and how is this played out in political action?'
As the dust settles somewhat, one thing worth considered is how pertinent or coherent the ‘conservative Catholic’ tag is. In the midst of all the commentary on his faith Perottet was doing a deal to allow Liberals a conscience vote on euthanasia. Such a deal makes it most likely euthanasia will become legal in New South Wales, an outcome Perrottet personally opposes. But his religious convictions weren’t getting in the way of pragmatic politicking. Or maybe his religiously grounded belief in human dignity, and so respect for conscience, was given priority.
Perhaps more significantly for consideration of how faith informs his politics, though Perrottet’s social conservativism follows orthodox Catholic, and traditional mainline Christian, teaching, his economic vision of very free markets and small government might be considered to emanate from a different source. Perottet as Premier’s rhetoric has been more libertarian than Christian communitarian.
But just because I do not easily identify how some of Perrottet’s positions are grounded in Christian thought does not mean that they are not drawn in good faith from what is a broad and rich tradition. In his maiden speech Perottet identified four ideals that would guide his public life: service, generosity, freedom and opportunity. Freedom was the ideal he leaned into most strongly and his explanation provides, at least, the basis of a contest of ideas. He said, ‘I believe in freedom, because it is only by exercising freedom that individuals can develop the habits of generosity, hard work, fairness and concern for others [which are] the foundation for the pursuit of the good life.’
In an interview last year Perrottet argued that Christian thought is a legitimate ingredient in public policy debate in part because it has been a key element in the building of western polities. I would suggest it is a legitimate ingredient because it forms a part of the world view of some people who enter the public square. Just as other experiences and approaches to life might help form the disposition a public leader brings, so a faith commitment might provide a starting point for personal engagement that then requires testing in public language in the public square.
In the same interview Perrottet suggested that if you engage in a range of issues in public debate then it should be hard to be easily labelled. I would agree, too, that an authentic Christian response will confound the traditional left-right divide because its starting point lies outside this dichotomy. Equally, if the Christian tradition only informs some of your policy principals while others are based on other ideological or pragmatic commitments, then labels become more slippery.
Recently badgered by the breakfast TV master Karl Stefanovic, Perrottet described his faith as personal, falling back on a time-honoured alibi for those of faith about to clutch power. This seems to be the necessary bending of the knee to a bland secularism that flattens the experience considered relevant to public life to not much more than the technocratic in economics and an anything goes approach to social and community life.
It also lets the Premier off the hook from the kind of deeper scrutiny that comes when we move beyond the neat labelling of politicians. A fuller conversation might ask, what is the underlying narrative and what are the consequent values of a political leader, what fires her moral imagination, and how is this played out in political action? Equally, in what way does she compromise and fall short of that narrative and those ideals; in what way does she become incoherent? That’s a far richer conversation than counting children.
Julian Butler SJ is a Jesuit undertaking formation for Catholic priesthood. He previously practiced law, and also has degrees in commerce and philosophy. Julian is a contributor at Jesuit Communications, a chaplain at Xavier College, and a board member at Jesuit Social Services.
Main image: Premier Dominic Perrottet departs a press conference (Book Mitchell / Getty Images)