Tagged: Adam Goodes

With a little empathy, Turnbull changes the tone

Whatever you thought of Leigh Sales’ interview with Malcolm Turnbull on The 7.30 Report last night, it had a defining moment; one that has the potential to recast the fortunes of his government. It was a moment of empathy, and empathy is a quality that’s become an endangered species in public life.

Turnbull recalled when he was a partner at Goldman Sachs in New York. Everyone, he said, was earning big money. But he queried the CEO about whether they were deserving of their good fortune, pointing out that in the streets below them, there were taxi drivers working far longer hours for a fraction of the rewards they were receiving.

I nearly fell off my chair. As someone who’d driven a taxi for many years – and who occasionally had to shrug off barbs from those who clearly regarded my line of employment as a reflection on my intelligence, as well as my station in life – this was an extraordinary thing to hear. Especially from a conservative politician.

Turnbull readily accepted Leigh Sales’ proposition that he’s been lucky. He has been gifted with high intelligence, a good education, good health, a beautiful family, and he’s been able to convert all of it into enormous wealth, which only a tiny few are able to do no matter how lucky they are, or how hard they work.

But Turnbull wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth. His mother had deserted his family at a young age. And perhaps that’s given him another gift: the emotional intelligence, as he called it, to have the imagination to walk in somebody else’s shoes. It was, he said, was the most important quality for someone in his line of work.

“The fact that we have to recognise is that much of our good fortune is good fortune,” he said. Such a statement must have burned the ears of many of his conservative colleagues. Turnbull is richer than most of them put together, but his words signalled a huge shift in rhetorical emphasis away from the brutishness of his predecessor.

Empathy has been in short supply in the so-called land of the fair go these last two years. It was what went missing when Peter Dutton joked about rising sea levels in the South Pacific. It was missing from his apology, too, for not realising there was a boom microphone over his head at the time.

It was missing when Joe Hockey said that poor people don’t drive cars, and if they did, they didn’t drive them very far. It was missing when he said the key to breaking into the housing market was to get a good job that paid good money. (Frankly, empathy was missing on most of the occasions Hockey opened his cigar-hole.)

It was missing when Christopher Pyne opined that women would not be disproportionately effected by changes to higher education, because most of them would only go on to be nurses and teachers anyway. It was missing from the Abbott government’s attitude to same-sex marriage.

It was missing when the government attempted to repeal section 18C of the Racial Discrimination Act. All of the government’s empathy on that occasion was reserved for the very white Andrew Bolt. It was missing when George Brandis said people had a right to be bigots. It was missing when Bronwyn Bishop took that chopper to Geelong.

Symbolically, this collective lack of empathy can be summed up in Tony Abbott’s words: “Nope. Nope. Nope.”

Inevitably, this lack of care for others has spilled over into other aspects of our national life. The incessant booing of Adam Goodes. The continuing degradation and dehumanisation of asylum seekers on Manus and Nauru. Where once we found the phrase, “There but for the grace of God go I,” we instead find fault.

The proof, of course, will be in the policies the Liberal Party takes to the election and, in the longer term, their outcomes. But with just a little empathy, Turnbull has changed the tone of the national conversation. It’s the first step towards saving his party from the sort of ideological drift – unhinged from the vicissitudes of life that effect ordinary people – that’s turned the US Republican Party into an unelectable circus.

Giving oxygen to thieves

In early 2007, I found myself on the Atherton Tablelands, researching a story about politics in far north Queensland for the late, lamented Bulletin magazine. This was the year of John Howard’s demise and Kevin Rudd’s ascension, and I wanted to see how the men and women of the frontier saw the up-and-comer from their corner of the world.

The piece was called “The Seventh State of Mind”, an acknowledgment that, yes, Queensland is different, and north Queensland even more so. It also stemmed from a long conversation I had with Bob Katter, who neatly showed me how he would partition the state from Rockhampton up, with the aid of a folded serviette (which looks a bit like Queensland) and a knife.

Katter practically left me with my ears bleeding that day, but naturally I couldn’t resist leading my story with this prominent and long-serving politician’s call for secession. I reported plenty of other interesting views in my travels, including those of a Yungaburra lady who was convinced tampons were laced with asbestos and who sold “rainbow rags” (colourful sanitary pads) in her shop as an alternative.

But there was one person whose opinions I chose not to report. I encountered him in the township of Mt Molloy, and he regaled me with some startlingly racist views, including a claim that Aboriginal people had smaller brains. You don’t have look hard to find such views in the far north, but I decided that airing them would colour the entire piece. And anyway, why give oxygen to an oxygen thief?

I’m still not sure that was the entirely right thing to do, especially considering I also approached Pauline Hanson for a quote (as if her opinions were somehow less flammable). True, she didn’t say Aboriginal people had smaller brains, but the mere presence of the most polarising political figure of her generation had a way of enlivening any story back then. These days Hanson seems rather quaint.

I’m reflecting on all of this because I’m thinking about the ABC’s decision to invite Andrew Bolt onto The 7.30 Report last night, to talk about all the ways Adam Goodes is supposedly dividing the country. And the mother of the 13-year-old girl who called Goodes an ape, who thinks he is the one who should “man up” and apologise. At least she is part of the story, but did we really need her to kick the can of hate further down the road?

I’m also thinking about Kim Vuga, the “star” of SBS’s Go Back To Where You Came From. Vuga was recently invited to share her views on The Project, which were in turn widely reported upon. Vuga wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near a microphone not so long ago, her opinions so divorced from any quantifiable reality and so incoherently expressed that they amount to little more than spasms of rage.

Now, rage being the currency of our times, those opinions amount to ratings and clicks. Reporting someone’s views doesn’t have to mean endorsing them, of course. But the decisions made by producers, editors and journalists to allow one person’s views invariably means someone else’s silence. What public interest is being served by elevating Vuga, however temporarily, to national prominence?

Even if it was paranoid about being seen to be balanced, surely the ABC had other options available to it than Bolt, a man with more than enough platforms of his own from which to spruik. Lord knows we heard from enough white men yesterday about what racism really was, what it meant and what it felt like. If someone hadn’t bothered to ask Stan Grant, we might never have known.

We don’t ask Holocaust deniers their views about what really happened in World War II. We don’t ask anti-vaccination campaigners about autism. For the same reason, many media outlets are increasingly refusing to give climate change deniers inappropriate levels of airtime, for to do so would be to be guilty of  “false balance”, a recognition that someone’s media profile should not be out of proportion to their credibility.

And if you’re a contrarian or a conspiracy theorist, be you on my left or right flank, have at me. Because of course in the hyper-democracy that is the web the truth is out there – on the hundreds of fringe news sites, and thousands of Facebook pages, and the millions of comments attached to articles.

That’s where the views of Vuga and my old mate from Mt Molloy belong. And where they should remain.