Tony Abbott has been in public life for a long time. Some of us remember his forays into student politics in the 70s; his stint in journalism with the Bulletin; his public flirtation with the priesthood; and now his meteoric rise to leadership of the Liberal party and to a hair’s breadth from the prime ministership itself.
It has not always been pretty, but it has always been entertaining – usually comic and at times tragic. During the whole episode of the supposed 'love child' with his university girl friend, he managed to maintain a quiet dignity, particularly in the face of the final revelation that the child he thought he had fathered was not actually his.
But there is something I find deeply disturbing in the way he carries out his public role. Charming and disarming as he can be, I find myself wondering wherein lies his moral core. Not long after his election as leader of the Liberal Party, Abbott was trying to explain away statements from his past claiming that he sometimes makes 'unreliable statements' in the 'heat of discussion.'
At that time I thought that the way to get a handle on Tony Abbott was to realise that he was like a high school or university debater. He would say anything to win an argument, confident that there would be no consequences to his actions.
Abbott is a natural debater, able to argue whatever position he feels will advantage him at the moment. And it’s not about logic or coherence, but about thumping the table the loudest. Further it does not seem to be about some moral vision that he holds to, providing a consistent pattern of thought.
When the election was on a knife edge, Abbott was arguing that the party with the two-party preferred majority should form government, rather than the party that could form a majority on the floor of the House. Yet media commentators soon pointed out he had adopted the exact opposite position in the recent close elections in South Australia.
For me the low point in his recent performances was his attack on the proposed military tribunal established to investigate possible war crimes by Australian troops in Afghanistan. This was an issue with some populist traction. An online petition attracted thousands of signatories. But the implication was that Australian troops should not be subject to the rule of law in their military engagements.
He went so far as to imply that the Australian government should intervene in the process, in clear violation of the separation of powers between government and judiciary. He seemed to demonstrate no faith in the military tribunal to find these soldiers innocent, if in fact they were innocent. And if they were proven guilty he would have been seeking to protect war criminals.
Although it was a popular stance, he was in effect attacking fundamental bases of our social and political system. I’m still amazed at how lightly he was treated by the media on this issue. Imagine the outcry if he had suggested that a priest accused of sexual abuse should not have that claim tested in court because we should support priests who are working for the good of the community! Certainly Australian troops are doing a great job in Afghanistan, and their morale is being affected by the proposed tribunal. But Abbott’s stance would license lawlessness.
In the end this stance had less to do with the the case than with his need to reassert himself after his own dissembling in offering reasons why he would not accompany the Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, on her visit to the troops in Afghanistan. When his 'jet lag' excuse was exposed and he came out flailing, hoping to land whatever blows he could on Gillard. The moral consequences of his stance were of lesser importance than his need to score some immediate political points.
Much is made of Abbott’s Catholic faith, but it seems to me that the rule book he plays from has more in common with Machiavelli. Machiavelli famously concluded:
Therefore it is necessary for a prince who wishes to maintain himself to learn how not to be good, and to use this knowledge and not use it according to the necessity of the case.
In the end everything can be sacrificed to gain and maintain power.
Neil Ormerod is Professor of Theology at Australian Catholic University.