Election 2007: the wrap-up

It is with great pleasure that I present my analysis of where the 2007 federal election was won. Lesser commentators will reserve their post-mortems for November 25, or perhaps election night itself if they type quickly. But let the record show that on October 18, more than five weeks away from polling day, I was the first with the comprehensive analysis that explained not only why the result happened, but what it was in the first place.

Against all the odds, the Coalition has won the 2007 federal election with a net loss of only one seat – Bennelong, where the Prime Minister succumbed to Labor challenger Maxine McKew. Though many expected him to retire in this scenario, the Prime Minister has instead argued that the rest of the Australian electorate wants him to stay even if the voters of Bennelong do not. He will therefore seek to move to a safer seat as soon as a by-election has been organised.
Howard intends to take over the Victorian seat of Higgins, currently held by the man who has in fact already been dubbed Prime Minister-elect by most commentators, Peter Costello, who will be asked by his colleagues to retire. Howard congratulated Costello on a magnificent career. "I want to thank Peter, if not for his loyalty, for never having had the guts to act on his disloyalty," he said. "I realise it's tough for him to be made to retire just before finally becoming prime minister, but I promised voters I'd make the tough decisions in 2001, and I'm not going to stay in this job until I'm eighty by being a nice guy."
Costello is understood to be gutted by the decision, but accepts that, as ever, when it comes to both voters and his party room, he simply doesn't have the numbers. He will now retire from politics and assist his brother Tim with his charitable projects, in an effort to understand why his sibling is so much more widely respected. Costello is eager to put something back into a country that gave him so much – and yet still not enough.
In the aftermath of a famous victory like this one, everyone will want to take credit. And while Pauline Hanson's role in policy development must be acknowledged, it is yet again the Coalition's advertising guru, Ted Horton, who has delivered. This media Svengali, who voices many of the scariest attack ads himself, may simply have replicated the strategy that won the 2001 and 2004 elections, right down to the same use of L-plates, but as the Prime Minister has always maintained, experience is more important than creativity.
Of the many scare campaigns, it is perhaps that about unions which hit Labor hardest. Having come from the Party's other great recruiting ground, the bureaucracy, Kevin Rudd was loath that 70 per cent of his front bench were unionists. But he ultimately accepted that to reform Labor's recruiting processes to reflect merit rather than branch-stacking ability would take decades, and gave up. And where voters had initially been frightened that WorkChoices would make them lose their jobs, the Coalition's advertising convinced them that groups of workers voluntarily coming together to demand a certain level of minimum conditions was a far more terrifying prospect.
Howard's catchy slogan, "Go For Growth" also galvanised his prized mortgage-belt battlers who had previously been too busy worrying about their monthly repayments to pay heed to macroeconomic notions like growth rates. Now, thanks to the campaign, it suddenly seems that economic chatter is everywhere, leaving climate change forgotten as trendy inner-city dinner parties shifted to discuss the burning issues of the day, like the current account deficit and the consumer price index.
The scare campaign about wall-to-wall Labor governments also hit home, as voters realised that a party they were happy to repeatedly re-elect at state level couldn't possibly be trusted Federally.
Ultimately Howard and Costello's firm hands on the economy have once again won the day, and although it can be argued that they are the merely the beneficiaries of underlying structural reforms initiated by Hawke and Keating, an unprecedented resources boom and the fluctuations of the global economy, it is not an argument voters have been interested in hearing. The strength of Howard's economic credentials was bolstered midway through the campaign, when he had the AFP arrest Governor Glenn Stevens and the entire Reserve Bank Board on its way to a meeting at which is was widely predicted interest rates would be jacked up because of the inflationary impact of the Coalition's promised tax cuts. Such a decision, Howard argued, would have irrevocably damaged the Australian way of life – most particularly, his own – and was more than sufficient under the recent anti-terrorist legislation for them all to be imprisoned indefinitely without charge.
Against this ferocious Coalition attack, which none of his strategists could possibly have predicted unless they'd looked back at any of the previous three election campaigns, Rudd simply wilted. He had thought he'd win over the electorate with what he termed "fresh 'n' funky ideas" about climate change and education revolutions, but his decision to give all his policy speeches in Mandarin to showcase his "fine Beijing accent" ultimately backfired.
Rudd has been left licking his wounds, but is expected to remain unchallenged as leader thanks to his decision to appoint someone virtually unelectable as his deputy, yet another idea he copied from John Howard.
Once again in Australian politics, very little has changed – the inevitable result of economic good times that left the electorate feeling benevolent towards its government. And while previous elections have been marked by genuine concerns that the Coalition might decimate the education system, or skew industrial relations in favour of bosses, or introduce draconian security laws, this campaign was conducted in the knowledge that it's all been done already.
So congratulations to John Howard, Prime Minister for another three years despite his pro more. Labor is left once more in the wilderness, knowing that if they are to ever beat the Coalition in a federal election, all they have to fear is fear itself.

Man-child, 30, seeks to join Entourage

I know I've joined the fad a little later than some (as my brother keeps reminding me), but I've become a huge fan of Entourage, the HBO show about the young Hollywood star and his three homies from New York who are kickin' it in LA. And while I've been enjoying the antics of Vinnie, Drama, Turtle and E – so much so, in fact, that from now on I am going to insist on being known on the streets as 'D' – I can't help asking one thing. Can I join somebody's entourage already?

And where better to star than Vinnie Chase himself? The show's star-within-the-show, Adrian Grenier, has been in Sydney to promote it, and I thought it was a perfect opportunity for some Entourage-style star tailgating. Because the way romance works in the show is very simple, and very effective. In essence, Vince is so hot and so famous that he constantly gets action, and his three hangers-on get to enjoy second through fourth dibs. Well, I share both E's corny sentimentality with the ladies and Johnny Drama's crippling neuroses, and look kind of like a cross between Drama and Turtle (particularly in terms of dodgy facial hair), so I figured it might work just as well if I hung with the real Adrian Grenier, who is almost as famous offscreen as he is on it.
Unfortunately I haven't succeeded in casually running into Grenier while I was here. Perhaps he isn't famous enough to get into the celebrity hangs I now have access to as a blogger for smh.com.au? Pity – if his publicist had gotten in touch with mine, I could have taken him to Jackson's On George and stuff. It could have been sweet.
(Actually, I don't have a publicist – I just give them my mum's number and she passes on the messages. Don't tell Grenier's people, though.)
I tick all the boxes when it comes to joining Grenier's onscreen entourage. Well, except for the lack of street smarts from back when I grew up in Queens. But otherwise, I'm ideal. I'm in my early 30s, spend way too much time playing video games and don't have a proper job. I don't seem to be able to form lasting bonds with women, but have lots of close male friends dating back to high school who are my primary support network. What more could any major film star want from a shameless hanger-on?
Vinnie and co always seem to go to the top parties, and although I'm woefully behind on that score, I did somehow get into my old fave De Nom the other day. And apparently Paris Hilton drank there briefly on New Year's Eve. So I guess that pretty much makes me a Hollywood A-lister.
And that's not all – like Drama, I once appeared briefly in a television series. Although unlike him, I haven't managed to claw my way back to the top of the heap. Fingers crossed I run into Eddie Burns, eh?
(Sorry if you haven't followed that subplot yet, but get with the program, people. And I mean the actual program, which is screening on Foxtel now. It's hilarious – superagent Ari Gold in particular.)
In short, Entourage is a wonderful warts-and-all portrait of a bunch of man-children, not unlike myself. But although they're probably a dime a dozen in LA, I've found that in Sydney, we man-children seem to be in short supply. And it's left me painfully short of cats to roll with, frankly. Rather than settling down and taking on adult responsibilities, I want to be jumping into my Lincoln convertible and cruising down Sunset with my peeps, and it just isn't possible – and not only because I don't currently have a car.
The vast majority of my male friends are in stable, successful relationships – many are even married nowadays. And sure, they say they'll hang with me like the old days, but compared to a night of snuggling with their better halves indoors, they always seem to choose the latter. (And to be honest, I don't blame them.) And the swinging singles like me are left twiddling their thumbs when we could be living the high life. Because it's important to have a posse when you go out to bars. No one likes sitting by themselves in the corner. But if you travel in a pack, when you can't manage to meet any interesting women, you can pretend you're having just as much fun with da boys.
The four of them even live together, generally in some swanky mansion or deluxe condo. Which would be perfect, because I share another of the gang's little neuroses in that I don't much like to be alone. I'd even be willing to be the gimp who cooks the breakfasts in return for a setup like that. But I know hardly any thirty-somethings who are living in share houses, other than myself who has a paltry one flatmate. What's the big rush to grow up in this town, anyway?
Maybe it is a Sydney thing. We like to think we're party HQ, but I'm not so sure. (Not that I'd recognise party HQ if I saw it, to be fair. And if I did, my name wouldn't be on the door.) This is a bit of a socially conservative town, where people don't sleep around like Vinnie and his buddies. It's not considered cool to have six people on the go at the same time in Sydney, but in NYC and Hollywood, that's considered restrained.
I like to think that in LA, though, my new showbiz pals and I would be kings of the hill. At least if one of them was a major Hollywood movie star. Still, Heath Ledger is, so it can't be that hard for some Aussie friend of mine, can it?
But back to my main man. I just Googled Grenier, and it seems he did go to De Nom the other night. I must have just missed him. Apparently he got to know this member of the bar staff. And not just that – it seems he's still in town. Darn it, Grenier, I so could have rolled with you, dawg. I'd even drive you around like Turtle does, if you get me one of those free Maseratis. Get my digits and call me, okay?

Telstra: making it easier for Labor

John Howard should be careful what he wishes for. He pushed so hard for so many years for Telstra to be privatised and independent, and vowed to turn Australia into a "nation of shareholders" by encouraging mum-and-dad investors to snap up a slice of the national telco. Well, there are 1.6 million Telstra shareholders (I am not among them), and guess what? That's a substantial voting bloc. And Sol Trujillo knows this. Which is why his company is trying to mobilise them in marginal electorates to try and get the Government to give Telstra an even more dominant market position. Sorry, I mean, let Telstra bring better broadband to all Australians.

Businesses generally don't deign to descend into the muck of politicking like this, presumably reasoning that they need good relationships with lawmakers. So to see Telstra getting its hands dirty is a bizarre spectacle. How will a Telstra-style campaign look? Is it going to find some way of charging its supporters a fee for the privilege? Are we going to see thousands of blue-clad technicians turning up at polling booths to briefly hand out how-to-vote cards at some unspecified time between 7am and 12pm?
Helen Coonan has tried to stop this potentially damaging development by asking the board to hose Sol down. She says voters will punish Telstra for its campaign rather than being convinced by it – a massive assertion, although I suspect the Coalition has been looking at who the electorate is in the mood to lash out at with particular care lately.
As has been noted, the irony is delicious. Because this is what Howard's beloved private companies, those supposedly more efficient bastions of a truly free society, do. If they come up against a barrier, they ruthlessly liquidate it, to the greatest extent allowed by law (or even beyond it, on some occasions). So why shouldn't Telstra make its shareholders aware of their own financial interests, and get them to vote with their hip pockets? That's how the Coalition won the last election with their "keeping interest rates low" furphy – why shouldn't Telstra be allowed to argue that the Government is keeping Telstra's share price low as well? They're just making their case to the market. The Government should be applauding their democratic initiative. Especially since, unlike the Coalition, Telstra pays for all its political mailouts.
And Telstra is making its case via the ever-so transparent online spin headquarters, "Now We Are Talking". Reading this page, you'd imagine that Telstra was some sort of benevolent society, desperate to usher ordinary Australians into a glorious future of fast internet connections, if only the evil government wasn't determined to keep us at dialup speeds.
While Labor candidates like George Newhouse in Wentworth have been lapping Telstra's support up, I can't help wonder whether the telco's endorsement might backfire on Rudd. Personally I would take great pleasure in voting against whatever Telstra supported, thinking that I'd probably get a better deal if its competitors were better able to compete. Nevertheless, if every shareholder votes Labor, Rudd will have probably, on balance, have been gifted a substantial windfall.
Senator Coonan, nevertheless, is right that Telstra should be split up, although it's far too late for her to make the point now. To have the same company owning a network that it resells to companies who are forced to compete against its retail division is clearly an ideal recipe for uncompetitive practices, and Telstra's pinged for this by the ACCC regularly. But Helen Coonan's belated interest in this idea smacks more of political revenge than sensible regulation. When the Government was still the majority owner, it could presumably have split the company and simply given existing shareholders stock in each of the new offshoots. Now, it will face an almighty legal battle.
Nevertheless, the move is surely likely to lead to lower prices. As a big consumer of telecommunications services (in other words, an internet-addicted nerd), I constantly compare its plans against competitors – for landlines, for ADSL and cable internet, for mobile data (that is getting your laptop on the internet when it's out and about) and, most importantly, for my mobile phone bill. And every single time, Telstra is not only far more expensive, but wants to lock me into lengthy contracts with hefty termination payments. I often wonder whether Telstra's main source of revenues is in fact consumer ignorance. For every hardcore technophile like me who shops around, there must be five people who just get everything from Telstra because it's easy, and pay dearly for it. That's one heck of a competitive advantage, deriving purely from incumbency.
And the Coalition chose to keep Telstra as such a behemoth. (Although, as Malcolm Maiden points out, Labor corporatised it, it's the Coalition that made it independent.) John Howard is the one who sold it off without creating a genuinely level playing field. So what we're seeing is a bit like watching Dr Frankenstein being savaged by his own monster. That is, a bit gory, but wonderfully entertaining.
Most amusing of all is that Telstra is encouraging its shareholders to call talkback. Of course, the telco is no stranger to trying to influence opinion via AM radio, and John Laws got into hot regulatory water only last week for neglecting to mention his deal with the company when making no less than 20 positive comments about the privatisation – including during an interview with the PM. Now John Howard's favourite medium is being used against him.
I had the bizarre fortune to see Sol Trujillo at a nightclub on Saturday night. (If it wasn't him, it sure looked more like him than a colleague of mine does) It was 2.30am, and he was dancing up a storm, apparently not bothered by anything. Helen Coonan and John Howard are probably not nearly as relaxed at the prospect of Telstra mixing it out on the political floor.

Shane Warne: still the wrong 'un

Shane Keith Warne is the most successful bowler in the history of cricket, with an astonishing 708 Test wickets. But while Muttiah Muralitharan is closing in on his record, Warne's place in the annals of sporting legend remains assured. Because no other sportsman can touch his record when it comes to scandals.

The great man is still playing for Hampshire, of course. And still playing around, of course. And as with the vintage Warney scandals of yore, this latest instance is magnificently foolish. It doesn't quite plumb the moronic depths of following his mother's advice to take a diuretic so he'd look slimmer in front of the cameras, but replying to his ex-wife with a text message intended for his new paramour was truly special.
Warne now says he didn't cheat on Simone, and that they split in August. He is reported as rather bitterly calling it her "latest paid factually incorrect interview with New Idea". I'm not sure who to believe – Warney has strayed so many times before, but then again, so has New Idea.
Still, he doesn't deny accidentally sending the text message to Simone, just that they weren't together at the time. If his story is correct, she seems to be the one lacking class on this occasion, telling all to New Idea before the kids even knew. But that shouldn't take away from the sheer brilliance of Warne's apparent slip of the text message. Sending an ex a message meant for your current flame is about as bad an SMS gaffe as you can get.
Honestly, if you were Shane Warne, would you trust yourself to even send mobile phone text messages at all after getting caught out so many times before? With the nurse, and that exotic dancer, the South African woman, and, , and, and, and presumably an endless number of others.
I'm not entirely sure whether Shane Warne is a sex addict, or merely a text addict. But his latest salacious cellphone saga should be a cautionary tale for us all. Mobile phones are deadly. Everyone always assumes that they're 100% private, but of course they aren't. Your own handset isn't, let alone the person you think you're texting. I've heard so many stories of jealous partners going through their messages. Really, why people don't delete "special" messages when they arrive is beyond me, and you can password-lock your phone. But still, people don't. And still, people get caught.
Alternatively – and here's a way-out suggestion – there's always fidelity. Just a thought.
It's not just mobiles, of course, although those relatively simple devices seem to have Warney constantly flummoxed. Privacy is easily compromised with most of our oh-so-convenient modern communications devices. Many of my friends spend all day tapping away on Gmail and use the built-in chat client to swap gossip, but it's incredibly easy to leave the computer logged in. And thanks to Google's excellent search capabilities, a passer-by (or your girl/boyfriend) can easily index every bitchy little comment you've made about them. It's a recipe for disaster.
Similarly, instant messaging clients like MSN and Skype tend to automatically log themselves in, and keep a record of every conversation. This stuff can be lethal. Not only can your colleagues, flatmates, lovers or anyone else find them, but probably the CIA is monitoring them all as well. Try to avoid using phrases like "jihad", "rain fire" and "infidel scum", even in jest.
I've come up with some easy ways around these problems, though. There's a handy off-the-record chat function in Gmail which prevents either party from saving the chats... or if it really freaks you out, I suggest adopting my solution, which is the diametrical opposite to Warney's approach. If you simply have an incredibly boring personal life, there will be no salacious messages for anyone to find.
It gets worse, though, as Paris Hilton found when someone hacked her mobile phone. With computers and cameras increasingly having built-in cameras now, the chances for major inadvertent embarrassment are greater than ever. I'm astonished that we haven't been inundated with more footage of Warney unwittingly exercising his flipper.
I don't feel the least bit sorry for him, of course, because it's now abundantly clear that there is simply no scandal that can make him give away his mobile phone. I assume we'll still be reading about him sending lewd holo-messages in years to come, when his cricket career is a distant memory, and all the kids are only interested in the Ten10 form of the game.
As for Simone, surely nothing can be less surprising than the news that Shane might have been entertaining other lady friends, especially if he was actually single at the time. As those perpetually unfunny cricket banners used to quip, surely she'd been adequately Warned.
And so should we all be. Because just as the onfield career of one S.K. Warne showed the sublime potential of legspin bowling to a new generation, his off-field antics have amply demonstrated that a text message conversation can be even more incriminating than a chat about the weather with a subcontinental bookmaker.

Sydney's top 10 APEC sights

While you're here for the APEC summit, why not enjoy some sightseeing at some of Sydney's world-famous tourist attractions? This top 10 list has been updated to take account of the special conditions prevailing during the conference.

1. Sydney Harbour and the Opera House
Sydney's harbour is world famous, and its legendary Opera House is regularly named as one of the most beautiful buildings in the world. Unfortunately, during APEC, you may not visit the building, or approach it, or travel on the harbour, or even look at the harbour because of the security barriers around most of the major waterside vantage points. But postcards are readily available during your stay and, trust us, it's all very beautiful.
2. Taronga Zoo
All of the best animals have been moved to Garden Island for the private enjoyment of world leaders, but Taronga Zoo still boasts some state-of-the-art empty cages.
3. Great Wall Of Sydney
Scotland has Hadrian's Wall, China its Great Wall, and now Sydney has a massive wall around much of the city. Our Great Wall may not be visible from space (but then again nor is the Chinese one, despite the urban myth) but it's certainly an eyesore in most of the city. Like the Great Wall Of China, you can walk along sections of it. But unlike the Great Wall, if you do so, you will be arrested, or possibly shot.
4. Historic Parramatta
During the conference, NSW Police are running free courtesy buses to this historic centre, located by the picturesque Parramatta River. Under the special APEC legislation, those arrested in the APEC Zone will be transported to Parramatta for charging. Those planning on availing themselves of this convenient service should note that, because of the bars over the windows, views from the buses will be limited. Ditto the cells.
5. Wet 'n' Wild water cannon
Forget the Manly Waterworks. During APEC, water-time fun has come to the heart of the city! A quick blast from the police's high-powered water cannon will have you drenched in moments. Particularly recommended for visiting protesters who haven't washed in months.
6. The Running Of The Motorcades
In Pamplona, tourists run down cobbled streets in front of enraged bulls. But in Sydney this week, feral protesters will run in front of presidential motorcades in a pointless attempt to disrupt them. It's likely to be bloodier than any Running Of The Bulls.
7. Little Baghdad
Sydney is known for its many colourful ethnic neighbourhoods, which bring a taste of their home country to create a rich multicultural patchwork. During the meeting, Sydneysiders will have a chance to sample Baghdad's renowned Green Zone via the intense security of the APEC Zone, which will protect those inside from the indignity of any contact with ordinary people in the country they're visiting.
8. Street racing
Sydney's many hoons love speeding around the city's renowned street racing circuits, such as the Hickson Road area. During APEC, a single circuit can take hours thanks to the frequent traffic interruptions! You've never had a race that lasted this long.
9. Bondi Beach
The famous beach is also known for its high concentration of intoxicated tourists, especially on the Sunday of the conference when Janette Howard hosts her counterparts at Bondi Icebergs for an afternoon on the pink champagne.
10. Rifle range
It's one big gun fair for shooting aficionados during APEC, with some of the latest paramilitary equipment being deployed on rooftops around the city. And, during the meeting, Sydney is being converted into the world's largest sniper rifle range. Note that gun enthusiasts should not attempt to purchase any of the weapons on display, or attempt to trade any of their own firearms with those on official duty, lest they themselves are used for target practice.

Putting the 'e' in Joey

So, Andrew Johns – sorry, Andrew 'Joey' Johns – was busted with ecstacy. And at a party, what's more – not in a desperate attempt to enjoy watching a Newcastle Knights match, which would have been more understandable. No – his defence was that someone had put it in his pocket. It's amazing how often drugs seem to mysteriously appear when high-profile people are out partying. Don't tell me that Michelle Leslie's mysterious friend "Mia" has been up to her old tricks again?

These are embarrassing headlines for a man who admits he's a role model for kids, but hardly unusual. This year it seems more footballers have hit the headlines for drug incidents than for their play, especially out on the wild, wild West Coast.
Now, I'm not about to pass judgement on whether it was Joey's ecstacy, or he'd taken it, or anything like that. Call me a shameless libertine, but I'm not particularly bothered by the revelation that someone who has retired from a sport might care to indulge in – or at least be caught with – a recreational drug. I am led to believe people like them. Hence the market. Hence today's statistic that cocaine use – or at least prosecutions – are up 70%. In fact, the coke market's looking a lot healthier than the stock market. Talk about an 80s revival.
Casual drug use is commonplace, and it would be deeply hypocritical for many in the media to be up in arms about it. Almost as hypocritical, in fact, as if someone who's opposed gay marriage and hounded Bill Clinton over Monica Lewinsky pleaded guilty to soliciting gay sex in a public toilet.
The interesting question, though, is what we do about the supposed drug scourge. In Joey's case, it's been taken care of quickly, efficiently and sensibly. He got an official warning, a black mark, but no further consequences. That seems an extremely mature approach from the UK justice system. A slap on the wrist – and an embarrassing spectacle in the case of someone high-profile – and the promise of more severe consequences next time. He'll learn from it, and probably be more careful next time. And that's pretty much all that has to be said.
Far more serious than Joey's situation is the furore over Channel Seven's outing of players based on obtaining their medical records. The AFL has introduced a three-strikes policy that keeps positive tests for recreational (that is, non-performance-enhancing) initially confidential. It's controversial, but it shouldn't be. Warning the player is a far better approach than humiliating them. Young players are often thrust into a world of limitless hedonism by their celebrity and money, and can't always handle it. The AFL's approach lets them get the counselling they need to get past it.
I've been impressed to see to see how the players have reacted by snubbing Channel Seven. Obviously the network can't be trusted to look after players' welfare, or take the game's interests at heart, so it's only fair to punish them by other means.
And let's face it, if the AFL had banned every single player who had been linked to drugs this year, some clubs might not have been able to field teams.
The fact is that occasional drug use is extremely commonplace, and we need to adjust our attitudes. The AFL has led the way in dealing with the issue (and Johns' punishment has been similarly constructive) and the League should be supported, not undermined by irresponsible tabloid journalists with no regard for privacy or the well-being of those invoved. It is far more sensible to confidentially reprimand people and hope they'll learn their lesson than let loose the sniffer hounds whenever anyone's caught.
UPDATE: I wrote this yesterday, before it was revealed that Johns has, in fact, used ecstasy throughout his playing career. This will damage his reputation irretrievably. But it doesn't change my view about how best to deal with these situations.
Johns says that people at the club knew, which would tend to suggest there was a cover-up. Under the AFL system, where his privacy would have been guaranteed (Channel Seven notwithstanding), the problem could properly have been addressed, and he could have received the counselling he needed; discreetly and constructively.
Life must be difficult sometimes for high-profile sportsmen, and that's all the more reason for dealing with these issues primarily as a health issue, rather than as an opportunity for wowserism.
Johns on retirement day - photo Kitty Hill

The citizenship test's a trivial pursuit

I may have unfairly maligned Kevin Andrews. Sure, he's bungled the Haneef investigation, but the Minister for Immigration and Citizenship has been ever so industrious in the other side of his portfolio. Working together with the Prime Minister, who's long tried to codify Australianness despite the public knocking back that constitution preamble of his, Andrews has finally provided the definitive answer to the complex, loaded question of what it is to be an Australian with a handy booklet. Apparently being Australian is all about mateship and cricket. What a surprise from the Howard Government.

There's much more to the pamphlet than that, though. Thanks to its deliberately uncontroversial tone, much of it reads like a boring guidebook. Of course I don't have a problem with providing information to those arriving in Australia, or seeking to become Australian citizens. And it is true that citizenship involves rights and obligations, such as jury duty, and that the deal needs to be spelled out to those wishing to avail themselves of it.
What's more, to a new arrival (as opposed to those who've been here for years, and would be getting citizenship) some of the information would be genuinely useful, such as which level of government is responsible for what.
But to test people on this stuff, and only give them a passport if they get 60 per cent, is a silly notion, both symbolically and practically. Practically, the impact will be mere inconvenience. What will happen is that migration agents, or someone involved in the lucrative process of helping people settle here, will quickly cobble together a complete copy of the 200 questions and answers, and those taking the test will simply memorise them all, thus passing the test with flying colours. If people are willing to spend years and thousands of dollars getting citizenship, they'll be willing to cram for a test.
This process will also negate the more sinister aspect of the test, which is the attempt to test everyone's level of English. Personally, I don't believe English competence should be necessary for citizenship. Living in Australia without English skills is tough, and the incentives to learn are many - but for migrants in their 40s and 50s (over 60s are exempt) who might find it harder to learn, I really can't see why it's absolutely necessary for them to do so. Generally they will have younger, fluent relatives who can help them cope. If some migrants largely prefer to stay within their communities and converse in their own tongues, then good luck to them. People who aren't in a rush to integrate just don't bother me the way they seem to bother, say, callers to talkback radio. Anyone who's seen Australian expat communities will know that they aren't exactly distinguished by a rush to embrace a new culture and language.
By all means, the Government should offer free classes, and try to encourage everyone to learn English - it's inherently worthwhile - but requiring it seems excessive. A fiftysomething grandparent who arrives here on a family reunion visa should be allowed to become an Australian without having to prove they can answer multiple-choice questions about Phar Lap, especially when passing the test proves precisely nothing.
Does answering questions about mateship show you actually believe in it? Does choosing "Yes" when asked whether Australia believes in religious tolerance actually demonstrate a commitment to it? Of course not. You don't integrate people by lecturing them. Values are transmitted by community contact, not by government handouts.
The already infamous passage on the mystical reverence we have for mateship will be particularly ironic to those who've come as asylum seekers. Sure, "mates can be complete strangers", as the book puts it, but it so rarely works out that way.
The sample questions reveal just how banal and pointless the exercise is. They read like a particularly dull game of Trivial Pursuit. Honestly, who cares when our Federation happened, or what our floral emblem is? Knowing these factoids have absolutely no bearing on whether someone has integrated into our community, or can make a contribution to our society, or is committed to being Australian.
The whole process smacks of that particularly Howardian nationalism, which always seems to smack of trite self-congratulation tinged with insecurity. We are special, the book seems to plead. We are harmonious, aren't we? We love sport, and the ANZACs. That's really great. Weary Dunlop was a top bloke. "I am Australian" is an important national song. Yay. The brochure's as cringe-inducing as a Telstra ad, or the Bicentenary.
The project is an attempt at social engineering that would be sinister if it wasn't superficial. Of course our values are important, but this quiz simply does them a disservice. If we want new Australians to understand the importance of the "fair go", we should try giving them one instead of bullying them into reading about it. Really, it's just too ironic that Australia now intends to exclude people from joining it if they can't digest a pamphlet about how welcoming it is. As for Andrews, he should spend less time making migrants answer trivial questions about Simpson's donkey and more time answering important questions about our treatment of Mohamed Haneef.

Haneef is a character test for all of us

The Haneef case is back in the headlines again this week, and with Kevin Andrews promising to appeal against the decision to overturn his ban on the good (or otherwise?) doctor's visa, and the family's determination to take it to the High Court if necessary, we're more or less guaranteed it will stay there. I don't know whether Haneef is a terrorist mastermind or not. But, like many, I strongly suspect the latter, and his recent decision to release the whole of his second interview transcript seems to help him establish this. The case raises important questions about where we, as a society, draw the line between national security concerns and our values as an open, welcoming community. And, so far, like Andrews when he tries to explain why he doesn't want Haneef here, we just don't have good enough answers.

I had an interesting discussion with a friend recently who was only too happy to advocate the suspension of civil liberties in cases of suspected terrorism. Haneef's detention didn't bother him at all, he said. What if you had kids, he asked me emotively, and locking someone up could save them from being blown up? And it's not a bad question, although I'd like to think I'm reasonably opposed to other people's children being blown up as well.
The thing is, I'm not a huge fan of innocent people being locked up, or denied visas, either. Every Haneef situation chips away at Australia's precious openness, its wonderful easygoingness, its willingness to give people from around the world a chance to become part of its society. And that's why I think we need more than just guilt-by-association in this situation.
Look, if Haneef has been involved with anything dubious himself, of course we should tear up his visa forever – of course. We have been extremely fortunate to avoid any terrorist attacks on Australian soil since 9/11, and there is no doubt that we need to be vigilant. But it simply isn't reasonable to punish someone because their relatives were alleged terrorists. I have a lot of cousins with considerable integrity, and I'd hate for them to be thought worse of because of my own brush with the law. (Speaking of which, I didn't actually get my gear off – I was filming. And yes, I'm still waiting for damages from Fairfax.) Similarly, Peter Costello cannot be held responsible for all of his brother Tim's deeply concerning links with charity.
What the Haneef situation tells us is that there is something wrong with our immigration regime, which concentrates enormous power in the hands of the Immigration Minister. This discretion approach would not work even in the hands of a competent minister. Whereas, we have Kevin Andrews, who floundered on Lateline last night. Andrews seems to think that the word "terrorist" is some kind of magic totem that renders him impervious to criticism – Tony Jones didn't buy it. And nor would any viewer. If Andrews can't make a better defence of his decision than the limp claim that "It goes to potentially people who have knowledge of things that have occurred in a terrorist way," it's hardly surprising so many people are sceptical about his claims.
His mantra that there is other evidence that can't be released because it would prejudice ongoing investigations is, by its nature, irrefutable so long as that evidence is not in the public domain. But this is unsatisfactory for all concerned – not least Andrews, who's left without the means to exonerate himself – and the tidbits he's presented so far have only bolstered the sceptics.
Moreover, since these decisions are made by a politician, it's impossible to leach the unpleasant taste of politics from the decision. Not only does it undermine the credibility of the decision, but it leaves the minister with no real grounds to defend himself from criticism if the decision is correct. In the absence of a smoking gun (or 4WD, perhaps), Andrews has little to no chance of convincing many that this isn't another attempt by the Howard Government to blow its proverbial dog whistle by showing its toughness on dubious immigrants. This should be a decision that is primarily about public safety & that is, law and order, not policy. And politicians are not good at making legal decisions. That's why we have a judiciary.
I'm not calling for a judicial inquiry like Labor, incidentally. That doesn't go far enough. Rather, the decision on whether to grant Haneef's visa – and indeed all controversial visa applications, even Snoop Dogg's – should be made by an independent review tribunal that is able to hear confidential evidence in camera so as to avoid compromising ongoing investigations, but is otherwise open to the public. Politics must be taken out of the process. Ultimately, the decision to cancel a visa is a judicial decision involving weighing evidence. Either Haneef is a threat or he isn't, and I think it's clear by now that Andrews is not the right person to make the judgment call.
Sure, passing these kinds of situations to an independent body would make it difficult for the Immigration Minister to front up on the news and look tough on migrants, but I wouldn't exactly view that as a disadvantage. And I've no doubt that even Andrews would now be happy for this particular hot potato to be passed onto someone else.
There are some positives to be drawn from the Haneef affair, though. The intense media scrutiny, the heated protests, and the public's apparent refusal to simply take the Government's statements at face value show that many of us place an enormous premium on our civil liberties, and – more contentiously – those of migrants. Australians are often accused of apathy as our liberties are eroded – an allegation David Marr raised recently. The public outrage over Haneef is a powerful counterexample.
At this point, surely Haneef is no threat to national security. Even in the extraordinarily unlikely event that he actually was involved in any terrorism, by this point the chances of him getting up to anything are surely non-existent. ASIO and the media will be watching him like hawks. Unless there is something seriously problematic that Andrews is keeping from us – and we're now at the point where he needs to come up with much better answers, or risk the complete erosion of the public's confidence in him – we should reissue Haneef's visa immediately.

Can you get double or nothing on the ASX?

I wish I could find it in my heart to find a little more sympathy for the nation's shareholders, I really do. But the news that the All Ordinaries has dropped 10% in the past 19 days, thereby officially counting as a "correction", had a certain bitter irony to it. Because despite all the endless energy pumped into financial reporting, stock analysts and the business media, despite all the incredible intellects that devote themselves to plotting the trajectories of numbers, the sharemarket is, at the end of the day, a casino. No wonder the Packers are good at business.

I've seen the ASX trading floor, and it looks a lot like a pokie – it's noisy and there are lots of flashing lights that record how you're doing your money. So really, when you take a loss like this, you should be able to double up. Or better yet, win a feature.
Or perhaps a more suitable analogy might be a game of Jenga, where you progressively build it up until it gets too high, and then there's a "correction", like the one we've just had. Generally involving gravity. This phrase always amuses me as well, because most hardened capitalists like to say the market's always right. Except for when it's totally, massively wrong, of course, which is when it "corrects". Like it was about the US subprime mortgage market.
The market, of course, is nothing more than millions of individual transactions, all mysteriously aggregated. Which is why I also find the capitalist emphasis on individualism so ironic. Because few things, in fact, support the New Age assertion that we're all connected like financial markets. Why, you may ask, have those who've put their savings into shares taken an absolute pounding today? Because American financial institutions issued dodgy loans – in some cases to people without assets, income or employment. "Subprime" really is a euphemism. The best way to describe these high-risk loans, evidently, is the "dodgy", or perhaps "crappy" mortgage market. With banks playing the role of the loan sharks, now furiously kneecapping those they never should have lent money to in the first place.
Another illustration of the interconnected nature of the global economy came in the form of the Asian financial crisis of a decade ago, when several nations' economies tanked thanks, in part, to currency speculation. So it may be more accurate to say that we are all, in fact, connected to George Soros.
I'm not especially gritting my teeth today, because, ladies and gentlemen, I don't own a single share. (Yes, you'd think they'd reward consistently superb writing like this with a parcel of Fairfax securities, but it seems they don't know their luck.) I started a CommSec account once, when I had a bit of cash but didn't actually get around to buying anything. Well, any shares, anyway – I did buy a Playstation 2. It all seemed too hard, and really, I had no idea what to buy. The only smart investment decision I ever made was not to touch Telstra with a ten-foot barge pole, although that was more motivated by lifelong resentment than financial sagacity.
Which makes me think that if I want to build wealth, I should seriously consider becoming a professional blackjack player rather than buying shares. At least I kind of understand the rules.
Housing's good too, of course. At the risk of making a bad pun, it has a wonderfully concrete quality. It can crash, albeit not so regularly, but compared with share certificates, it has the wonderful quality of keeping away rain and cold. And sure, I know that over time, the stock market has accumulated more quickly than housing. But so it should – it's far more nebulous, and far more prone to "corrections".
But despite my total non-participation in the share market, I'll feel it. We all will, whether though rising rents or mortgage interest rates. Because we're all connected to each other through the inextricable web of capitalism.
So, the foolish risk-taking of American banks will affect all of us to some degree. Much as we all have to pay for a costly war through our taxes because of the foolish risk-taking of George Bush. And I resent that. We shouldn't have to pay more rent or repayments in Sydney because overpaid analysts stuffed up at Bear Sterns in New York. As with Iraq, the foolish optimism of Americans ultimately affects everyone. In fact, I've a good mind to choreograph a controversial Rock Eisteddfod piece about the subprime lending market. And I don't care if the President'll be here or not.

All aboard for Kev 2.0?

I'm not sure that this is the reaction that Labor's webmasters were aiming for, but I couldn't help wincing a little when I took my first tour of Kevin07.com. It looks so much like Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton's sites, with the red and blue colourscheme that's universal in American politics. And the decision to call him Kevin throughout the site, like he's our friend, is really quite cringe-inducing, even though it'll probably help to make him seem more accessible. I blame Sunrise.

And wow, look at all the fresh'n'funky ways you can superficially connect to Kevin! MySpace! YouTube! FaceBook! Mobile phone wallpapers! Forget Gmail, he's got Kmail! By gum, this isn't Web 2.0, it's Politics 2.0!
I have to confess that I couldn't resist poking Kevin Rudd via Facebook. But only to see if I could make his hair move.
Kevin07 commits the most unforgivable sin on the internet – it tries way, way too hard. It's so busy being in your face about how hip it is that it forgets to actually be it.
Most lame of all is all the interactivity guff. "This space is not about us - it's about you", the site coos. What rubbish. Come on, this is Australia, not America. We know that websites like this are about capturing our vote on election day, not getting all of us to hold hands and sing Kumbaya while we triumphantly propel Rudd into the Lodge.
And you have to ask yourself who Kevin07.com is going to convince who isn't already inside the Rudd tent. I doubt many undecided voters will pop through and think "I was going to vote Howard because of his record on economic manangement, but hang on, Kevin Rudd's on MySpace."
They're also trying to build a blogging community. Blogging first started to make an impact in the primaries before the 2004 Presidential election. Howard Dean's revolutionarily interactive website had a blogging component, blogforamerica.com, where those drinking the Dean KoolAid rapturously wrote about how different their guy was. It was soon matched by blogsforbush.com, and since then blogging has become a part of every campaign - most prominently on Barack Obama's website. So it isn't surprising that blogs have become a part of Kevin07's attempt to stake out all the online ground as Labor's.
But I'll be fascinated to see if anyone who isn't a Labor flunkie actually bothers to start a pro-Rudd blog. And that's because there's a massive gulf between the online political culture in Australia and America. Most political blogs - certainly on the left - are fuelled by idealism, and that just isn't as prevalent in our more cynical society. The primaries also make a difference - as candidates jostle for the nomination, they have to build up a base of supporters, and that means spending a lot of time defining what they are 'for', in highly abstract, highly rhetorical speeches, delivered with their hands on their hearts that fuels all of this idealism.
By contrast, no-one's salivating over how Kevin Rudd will transform politics. He has no Audacity of Hope, Barack Obama's book laying out his own personal vision for a Better World. And Labor's attempts to use expensive US-style ads that romanticise his personal story aren't why he's in the lead. No-one believes passionately in the glistening Rudd vision for Australia - even the man himself, I suspect. If he's elected, it will be because we're sick of the Howard Government, and Rudd seems competent, and (let's be honest) younger and therefore more in touch. End of story.
And it's the 'younger' aspect that is the most important aspect of Kevin07. Because there is no way his opponent would ever launch a site called John07 – or perhaps more accurately, given the need to semi-rhyme and own particularly retro brand of idealism, John51.
For starters, no-one ever calls the Prime Minister "John". He seeks always to brand himself as "the Prime Minister", and thereby render himself as inaccessible as possible. Whereas Kevin07 is about telling the internet-savvy generation that Rudd is one of them, that he "gets it", and isn't over the hill. His policy for faster broadband is an attempt to do the same thing. Rudd fits as naturally into a flashy but slightly annoying website as Howard does on the wireless.
I won't be spending much time visiting Kevin07.com. But its existence amply demonstrates shows why John Howard is freaking out so much that his campaign strategy now seems to be playing superhero with the states. (And really, it's beginning to get embarrassing. Federally-funded plebiscites on local council amalgamations? Holy irrelevancy, Batman!) There's simply no getting around the fact that Kevin Rudd is younger, and fresher, and has newer ideas than John Howard. And that's what Labor is desperate to make this campaign all about.
Personally, I'll be ostracising anyone who put a cheesy "KEVIN 07" button that they've downloaded from this website in their email signature. But I'll bet a whole lot of people do.

Effete? Melbourne? Bring it on!

At breakfast on Saturday I was incensed by John Thorpe's words in the Herald, so much so that I must confess I spilt my latte all over my ciabatta. Thorpe, who is the NSW President of that august body known as the Australian Hotels Association, is trying to stop Sydney City Council from liberalising liquor laws so that we can have smaller, Melbourne-style laneway bars. Of course, he doesn't fancy the competition, so he's doing everything he can to stop it from happening. Including verballing those like me who happen to like Melbourne's laneway bars. Well, Thorpe, this will not stand. As Jordan from Top Model so eloquently put it, game on, moll.

"We aren't barbarians, but we don't want to sit in a hole and drink chardonnay and read a book", he says. Speak for yourself, buddy. I'm quite fond of books, chardonnay – and, sure, sitting in holes, if that's how you want to define Melbourne's lovely small bars.

But Thorpe isn't in favour of speaking, at least not in pubs. When his precious industry is threatened, you can't shut him up, but he reckons no-one in this city likes the apparently "effete" art of conversation. I'm sorry, John, I know that you see this as "baloney", "pie in the sky stuff" and "not what Sydney wants". From your perspective, it seems that what Sydney wants is to mindlessly feed banknotes into poker machines – after all, that's how you're remunerated. But there are exceptions, and for us, your industry offers absolutely nothing.

"There's a lot more entertainment than sitting there chatting. I think our culture is a little different than Melbourne because they haven't got this magnificent harbour and the Opera House. No wonder they want to sit in a hole in the wall," he said.
Firstly, it's crass to make this a Sydney-Melbourne thing. It's not just Melbourne that offers intimate places to drink. There are bars like this in New York, Tokyo, Bangkok, Rome, Shanghai, Paris &ndash and even (shudder) Adelaide. The lack of options, in fact, is uniquely Sydney.

And I'm sorry, come again? Entertainment in pubs? Long gone as your members let pokies do the job of bringing in punters instead of bands, except with a very few exceptions. Oh whoops, you probably meant the football.

Which is great. I love watching football in pubs. Just not every time.

And this, of course, is the thing that is most outrageous about Thorpe's attempts to stop the development of smaller bars. No-one is suggesting we close down Sydney's mega-pubs. It would just be nice to have a few alternatives. I think it's called "freedom of choice" or something.

Take the cinema district, home to such wonderful watering-holes as Bar Ace, Moloney's, the Star Bar and Three Wise Monkeys. Look, if you want to snog a backpacker, or play pool, or get into a fight, or get frisked with a metal detector on the way in because of fears about gang activity, then those venues have it covered. But if you want to, I don't know, talk, then there's nothing for you in among all those 24-hour pubs.

Then he starts warning us about prices. "The bottle of wine from Dan Murphy's at $8 will cost you $50 at this intimate establishment," he says. I'm surprised he's heard that Dan Murphy's charges $8 for a bottle of wine, because the bottle shops operated by his members certainly don't. And frankly I'd gladly pay $50 just for a place where the music was soft, the atmosphere was reasonably intimate, and there weren't pokies.

Thorpe promised to visit the office of every minister he could "to inform them that this doesn't entice investment into the industry", apparently. No doubt he'll be listened to, given the AHA's symbiotic relationship with the NSW ALP. And the rest of us will once again have to suffer from the appalling lack of options in a city that boasts only overly loud mega-pubs and ultra-pricey, over-designed bars with unjustifiable levels of door-bitch arrogance. (Yes, De Nom, I'm talking about you.)

It's just outrageous. For heavens' sake, our publicans have a near monopoly on operating gambling in NSW. I can't imagine why anyone would think it sensible to legalise gambling only in places where you can buy products that reduce their judgement, but that's the way it is.

Neil Armfield recently compared publicans operating pokies to dealers peddling heroin, and he's got a point. With their incredible capacity to generate profits from their pokies, the last thing pubs need is protection from smaller operators – especially since these laneway bars wouldn't have gambling (part of their appeal, of course), which would protect larger pubs' biggest earner.

There is no conceivable harm to opening smaller bars across Sydney; not even to the AHA members, given that they make so much of their profits from gambling. And really, I would have thought from Thorpe's dismissive tone that he'd rather tossers like myself didn't darken ordinary punters' good old Aussie pubs.

It's time we liberalised our embarrassing drinking laws. Other than the naked self-interest of a lobby group that already has it far too good, I can't see any good reason not to allow smaller bars in our inner-city. People don't binge drink, vomit and get into fights at Melbourne's intimate laneway bars. Nor do they become addicted to gambling and lose their week's wages. Get your own establishments in order, Mr Thorpe, and let the rest of us choose where we'd like to have a drink.

Bye bye, Bracksy, goodbye

It's so rare for politicians to leave office at the time of their choosing that it always comes as a shock. But where Bob Carr left office in 2005 with perfect timing after a decade in power, Steve Bracks' resignation is a sadder, more sudden affair. He's only 52, and only eight months into a term. So while he may have claimed that it was the right decision for his State and party, it's highly unlikely they'll be agreeing today.

The decision to "spend more time with his family", as it's always put in these situations, is understandable, since Bracks' son Nicholas, 20, was recently charged with drink-driving. I wrote recently about the tendency of politicians' children to get involved in these situations – Al Gore's son was the most recent in a long list that includes President Bush twice, as both a political parent and a misbehaving child. While Bracks has claimed his children are grounded – and judging by his own personality, that seems likely, being a public figure's child is never an easy cross to carry.
While Bracks has said his son's mishaps weren't the only reason, he has admitted that "I just felt hopeless and useless and you can't help feeling a bit of a failure in some ways as a parent" – a more honest, human response than most pollies would have given in this situation. While his son must be feeling terrible today, it's a statement, and an act, that really shows why Bracks became so popular with the Victorian electorate – because he really does seem like a decent bloke. He wasn't obsessed with retaining power in the manner that has led John Howard to what still seems to be a likely downfall. Nor has he taken a self-indulgent extended farewell in the tacky manner of Tony Blair. Bracks has simply acknowledged that he's had enough, so he has decided to leave. Making this one final classy decision from a leader who rarely put a foot wrong in his relationship with the public.
This is very bad news for Labor, though, which has now lost two of its three unbeatable long-term East Coast Premiers. With Beattie mulling over retiring as well, the ALP's total dominance in State and Territory parliaments is seriously threatened, particularly if Bracks' replacement has the charisma of Morris Iemma. So it was interesting to hear that Kevin Rudd was keen to try and retain his services, but, unsurprisingly under the circumstances, Bracks has ruled out standing federally. Popularity like Bracks' could have made an enormous asset to Labor in Victoria, if not nationally.
Bracks achieved the ultimate accolade from the Victorian public – the nickname Bracksy, reminiscent of that other affable Victorian MP, Bob "Hawkey" Hawke. (Peter Beattie's surname came pre-formed for political office in the XXXX State.) He was one of those few politicians that everyone would have liked to have a beer with, a stark contrast to the antiseptic professionalism of Kevin Rudd, who is the national equivalent of Bob Carr.
I met Bracks very briefly last year at the AFIs, shortly after he won his most recent election. As always he was out spruiking the virtues of Melbourne, and predictably he was surrounded by admirers wanting to shake his hand. Even after he'd been pressing the flesh for hours, he seemed extremely friendly. Mired as we were in the tepid contest between Morris Iemma and Peter Debnam, it was frustrating to look south and see a charismatic, popular leader on offer. My colleagues and I asked him if we wouldn't like a new challenge, like perhaps running for Premier of NSW instead. He laughed and said something unconvincingly nice about Iemma, of course. But we would have been better off.
His government hasn't been a visionary, reforming one like Jeff Kennett's was – unsurprisingly, really, since Kennett's vision proved dystopic for so many. He's been rather like Bob Carr – an efficient manager who kept the show on the road and presided over a sporting contest that was probably too expensive, but made everyone feel good. Like Carr, he wasn't expected to become Premier, but once he had the job he proved immovable. The difference is that while Carr's record has been significantly tarnished since his departure, with NSW's infrastructure woes leaving many with negative memories of his time in office, Bracks will leave Victoria wanting more. And that is the mark of a rare politician.

The curse of CityRail

Sydney is supposed to be a major global city. We're constantly telling ourselves how world-class we are, and major surveys keep agreeing – most recently we were ranked fifth best city in the world to visit. And we are the largest city in a wealthy, highly developed nation. So can someone explain to me, in extremely simple terms, why our train system is reminiscent of a third world country – or, worse still, England?

The problems always seem to be so minor, but happen so infuriatingly frequently. An electrical fault on the bridge, a hatch cover flies off, two carriages lose power. Each time, unreserved apologies are issued and we're told it won't happen again, that it's the government's top priority, and so on. And yet nobody has confidence in the system.
Which is not exactly surprising, because the system has never been reliable. I commuted across the bridge to school every day for a decade, and the "trains are running late and out of timetabled order" announcement was a regular occurrence. And worse still, the train was replaced by far-slower buses while they did "trackwork" nearly every weekend. What they were fixing, and why it required work for so many years, was never clearly explained. I don't live on the North Shore anymore, thankfully, so no longer depend on the caprices of CityRail. But a quick look at CityRail's website shows that they're still doing trackwork decades later. The private bus companies must have made millions out of this constant trackwork. Honestly, what are the rail workers doing on the weekends, playing an extended cricket series up and down the North Shore Line track? They surely could have re-layed the whole track two or three times by now. With such a consistently hopeless train system, you can almost forgive our upper North Shore compatriates from sticking to their beloved 4WDs. Especially now that BMW makes one.
And it's not just the Bridge. Virtually every line has trackwork scheduled at the moment. What on earth's the matter?
The NSW Government keeps apologising, and it's easy to blame our political leaders, but it's hard to imagine it's the fault of the current crop of politicians, given the decades of chaos we've experienced. The pressure on RailCorp from Macquarie St must be intense, given the regularity with which senior ministers have to cop egg on their faces. The problem must lie in its overall design.
Unless, of course, the system is cursed. My theory is that a hex may have been placed on CityRail by one of those old train announcers as they were carted off to redundancy, retirement or more likely the CityRail CEO's job. You know, the ones who used to gabble incomprehensively over the loudspeakers before the Olympics saw the arrival of computer-generated, clear announcements? It used to sound something like "Thetrayoplafowuhgotohoooby." If you pronounced underwater.
Although on seconds thoughts, it's unlikely the spirits would have understood the incantation either, especially if it had been delivered it over the PA. Nevertheless, experienced witchdoctors should be asked to look into it as a matter of urgency. They'd probably do a better job at maintenance as well.
John Safran could also be useful – after all, he lifted the curse on the Socceroos. And Guus Hiddink wouldn't hurt either.
But as bad as Sydney's rail system is, the national rail grid is even worse. Australia must be the only first-world country where it's faster to commute between the two largest cities by car than by train. And sure, few (if any) developed countries have smaller populations on larger land-masses, so it's difficult to invest much in rail infrastructure. But you'd think that at least one decent train line from Sydney to Melbourne might be possible. Even if it has to go via Canberra, so the Federal Government funds it.
I caught the train once, years ago, and it's a mistake I'm not likely to repeat. I remember a shocking night where the train vibrated constantly and lurched from side to side, making sleep impossible. And the decision to serve beer on board meant that half the passengers were blind drunk – probably a good way to deal with the experience, in hindsight – and every single bathroom was putrid.
With all the attention being paid to climate change, we need a major rethink on rail. Right now, anybody could be forgiven for declining to entrust their daily commute to CityRail, or choose the train to Melbourne over a cheap flight. But a reliable, more extensive rail system is surely the best long-term way of getting cars off our choked roads. Building new train lines, and upgrading the ones we have properly so they can support trains that move at faster than walking pace, must be a major national priority over the next decade. Whatever the cost.

Pot, pollies and hypocrisy

Politicians nowadays are constantly being asked whether they've used marijuana. Anyone who wants to enter politics needs a good answer to the question, and as baby boomers continue to take over our parliaments, the answers keep on becoming more interesting. The so-called baby boomer president, Bill Clinton, famously offered that "I didn't inhale" excuse, which formed the basis of many a late-night comedy routine, and provided a taste of the amusingly technical justifications to come as the president denied having "sexual relations" with Monica Lewinsky.

This week, it was a joke by Daniel Johns that set the pot among the pigeons. He made a quip on radio about lying on a bed with Bono and Peter Garrett, listening to the new Silverchair album and smoking a joint. Well, on this evidence, Daniel Johns really should stick to being an ultra-serious young rock-auteur, because jokes aren't this thing. I'd be surprised if Johns had come up with a single funny thing since he wrote the lyrics to Tomorrow.
The problem with the joke is that it's far too plausible. Johns was listening to his album with Bono and Garrett earlier in the year, it was only the joint part that was made up. Whereas if I made a joke about the time I was lying on a bed with Robert Manne and John Ralston Saul, discussing my smh.com.au blog while smoking crack, that would be implausible enough to be clearly a joke. (Although, Rob and John, if you're interested, let me know and we'll meet up. BYO crack pipe.)
The joke he was aiming at was based around Bono and Garrett being supposedly anti-drug, so of course one wouldn't share a spliff with them. But they're still rock stars. And, as we saw with the controversy over Madonna's involvement with Live Earth, celebrities aren't necessarily hypocrisy-free. Bono's an anti-poverty campaigner who's immensely wealthy, so really, who'd be shocked if be if enjoyed the occasional toke while regularly lecturing the UN on the evils of drugs?
Garrett's involvement, and subsequent denial, led to every other politician trotting out their own personal drug-use stories. And gee, who'd have thought that Kevin Rudd never would have indulged in marijuana? It's about as likely as him being seen in public with a hair out of place. The guy's level of self-control is genuinely terrifying, so I can't imagine Rudd consuming any substance that would lead to relaxation. Even though Rudd's obviously doing a much better job, I can't help but long for the amusing indiscipline of Mark Latham.
Being equally straight-laced, Howard doesn't use drugs, of course. But imagine my surprise when Nick Minchin confessed to having indulged in the odd spot of whacky baccy in his youth. I'm sorry, Nick Minchin? The ultra-conservative guy who doesn't believe in compulsory voting or global warming? This is honestly the first time I've heard anything vaguely humanising about the former Special Minister of State, a title that made him seem like the Canberra equivalent of Darth Vader. If even a guy like Minchin indulged a little in his youth, surely nearly all of our pollies must have.
Which got me wondering. In a decade's time, when an even younger generation of politicians has swept onto Capitol Hill, will there be any politicians left who didn't experiment with marijuana in their youths? (Well, with the exception of Alex Hawke.) And that really ought to beg a few questions. A criminal conviction is enough to disqualify you from parliament, so a situation where the majority of our lawmakers have broken a law is a serious situation - even if marijuana is decriminalised for personal use, it's still a big concern. But more to the point, if in their private lives, virtually everyone in parliament has chosen to disregard a certain law, shouldn't we reconsider whether that law ought to exist at all?
Sure, every pollie who admits to a little dope smoking is quick to reiterate that they wouldn't dream of it now, but I think that's a bit disingenuous. At the time, when they didn't have public perception to worry about, they obviously didn't think it was a problem, and surely beneath the layers of spin, that's still their position. The fact is that a little experimentation with marijuana is normal in our society, and we should stop being hysterical about it. For the most part, people try it, perhaps even use it regularly for a year or two, and then give it away and get on with their lives with no adverse effects.
Which is not to condone its use. Marijuana can have a terrible psychological impact on some people, and I'm aware of situations where it was linked to panic attacks and even schizophrenia. But we've also all seen alcohol destroy people's lives, and smoking's more destructive still. So I really don't understand why marijuana is in a different category. And when they made the decision to smoke at whatever university party it may have been, our politicians obviously felt the same way.
And that's why no one got Daniel Johns' joke. When three rock legends gather, even ones as strait-laced as Garrett and Bono, no-one would necessarily assume it would be a drug-free event. Sure, I might have doubted the story if Johns had said that he and Bono snorted lines of heroin off the top of Garrett's head, or something. But passing around a joint while lying around and listening to a rock album is a common occurrence in our society. So it will be fascinating to see whether our politicians are willing to back up in their public capacities the judgements they've obviously made in their private lives.

An inconvenient spliff

I'm not usually all that sympathetic towards the privileged scions of political dynasties when they get into trouble, but I do feel sorry for Al Gore III in the light of his arrest with marijuana and a heady cocktail of prescription drugs. It must be pretty tough growing up with that legacy to contend with. No pressure, Al III, but Al Gore I and II were both Senators, and the latter was the rightful President and is now viewed by the neo-environmental movement with quasi-religious fervour. That's a big name to live up to.

His father responded with his usual class, saying that it was a private matter, and that his family loved their son very much. Ouch. Couldn't the big guy at least have gotten angry, say that his son had disgraced the family or something? No, he just responded with that same saint-like demeanour that made the scenes of Gore presiding over the Senate as it confirmed his defeat in the 2000 Election that much more painful. How badly must Gore Jr Jr feel he's let the family down today?
Fortunately, these kinds of youthful shenanigans are no bar to the highest office in the land, as his father painfully discovered. Gore may yet live to make his father proud, because these juvenile drug binges could prove the missing ingredient that might propel Gore III to the Presidency. America loves nothing more than a story of a reprobate made good. All he needs is to be converted by Billy Graham's son in a decade or so, go and have a cry on Oprah, and it's next stop, 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.
After all, it worked a treat for W. And even that election eve revelation about Bush drink-driving as a young man after an evening downing beers with John Newcombe didn't derail his campaign. I think the average response, at least in Australia, was to be impressed that he hung out with Newk.
As a young man, Gore II was the opposite of this – and his own son, for that matter. As An Inconvenient Truth would have us believe, he was already earnestly learning of the dangers of global warming and beginning to prepare the most famous slide show of our time. In other words, he was preparing earnestly for life as a public servant. A serious man of weighty issues. (No, I'm not talking about the issue of whether his weight loss means he's running for President.) A man who would go on to write a substantial quasi-academic tomes about the state of the American polity, even though he's definitely not running. (Well, probably not now, actually.) A man who is nicknamed The Goracle. That's not the kind of man Americans want as their President. They'd rather have someone who's famous for mangling English than wielding it skilfully. They don't want a leader who makes them feel guilty about their affluent lifestyles, they want leader who makes them feel smarter than he is. Gore II was not their man.
But Gore III could be. Sure, there are some bad signs already – he was busted driving a Prius, for goodness' sakes. (Actually, literally for goodness' sake.) No sex appeal in that. No all-American boy ever got hisself laid in a Prius. Worse still, he had in his car a book called Homeowner's Guide to Renewable Energy. But there's still time for him to get that bad boy image up and running. Especially if he serves time.
It must be awful being the son of a sitting President or public figure. Sure, there are massive perks – you're never going to want for money, for one thing – but the scrutiny is intense. You live your entire life in the shadow of your famous parent. You can't be sure whether your friends actually like you, or just value the connection. It's no wonder that so many of these kids get into trouble, like George W's own twin daughters and Prince Harry. Even our own Tim Howard and Patrick Keating have had run-ins with the law, for a minor drink-driving incident and assault respectively. But perhaps the worst case is Mark Thatcher, who got busted not for common or garden drinking or drugs, but interfering in the politics of Equatorial Guinea. Now that's going off the rails.
(A friend drew my attention to an even more unfortunate case today – Count Gottfried von Bismarck, as detailed in this unsympathetic obituary. How much would it do your head even more in if your great-great-granddad was an infamously tough Chancellor of the Holy Roman Empire, and your dad owned a castle?)
I really hope Al Gore III doesn't go to prison, because like so many of these youths, he sounds troubled, rather than criminal. I just hope he can put his life in order. And if he does have a son one day, perhaps he might do him the favour of naming him something other than Al Gore IV?

Scooter Libby's unforgivable pardon

Justice is a highly variable quantity under President George W. Bush. If you're on death row, you can forget about asking for clemency – he has been extremely reluctant to interfere to protect even mentally retarded offenders. If you're in Guantanamo Bay, facing a trial process that the Supreme Court previously overturned and which the US refused to apply to its own citizens, then tough. But if you're a buddy of the President's, and get caught lying to protect your boss and Dick Cheney, then suddenly the tough guy who oversaw 152 executions in Texas – a modern record for a State Governor – is all heart.

The very idea that a political leader could interfere to protect a buddy seems astonishing in Australia, but it's very much part of the English tradition. (The Queen recently posthumously
pardoned all British soldiers who'd been executed for cowardice in World War I, for example.) And the "royal pardon" arose for sound reasons, because it is commonly recognised that the strict application of any justice system can, on occasion, produce unjust results. And yes, sometimes sentences are too harsh, and
sometimes it seems right, after a period of time, that a criminal be deemed to have paid their debt to society and be released. (For instance, there's this guy called David Hicks...) It's unlikely, though, that when the legendary founding fathers who drafted the US Constitution and, in their boundless wisdom, decided to preserve this noble mechanism for clemency, they intended for George W. Bush to let off a buddy who'd gotten busted doing his dirty work.

Rather, George Bush's decision to pardon the jail sentence of his colleague Scooter Libby revives an alternative element of the pardon tradition – the dodgy reprieve given to royal buddies. (And the Bush dynasty does bear some resemblance to a hereditary monarchy these days.) Because of a history of abuse, some anti-federalists opposed the inclusion of the pardon power in Section 2 of the Constitution, but it was ultimately successfully defended by
Alexander Hamilton.

Looking at how the pardon has been used by Presidents can't help but make you sympathetic to the critics' perspective. Bill Clinton's controversial pardon of Marc Rich, a fugitive whose ex-wife had donated large amounts to the Democratic Party, was slammed in many quarters. (In an astonishing coincidence, Rich's attorney for over a decade was none other than Scooter Libby.) And Gerald Ford's decision to pardon his former boss, Richard Nixon, over Watergate has attracted criticism ever since because cynics presumed that Nixon was pardoned in
return for resigning the Presidency for Ford.

Lewis "Scooter" Libby was convicted for perjury, obstruction of justice and making false statements to federal investigators. He tried to frustrate the investigation into who had smeared Valerie Plame, the CIA agent whose husband had criticised the Bush Administration over Iraq. Libby was the Chief of Staff of Vice-President Dick Cheney, and a counsel to the President. And that's what makes his pardon so galling. No judge or juror is allowed to hear a trial if they have a personal connection to the accused. Even the slightest intimation of bias on the past of former Justice Lionel Murphy was enough to end his judicial career. So really, how, after an exhaustive, independent process determines that a party is guilty, and an appeal that fails, can a President be allow to intervene because he doesn't want his buddy to go to jail? It's an abhorrent result, especially in a nation that is only too happy to lecture other nations about their judicial processes.

The US needs to change its pardon law so that the President cannot pardon anyone where there is a clear personal connection. Those cases should be rerouted to an independent body. Whether or not Nixon, Rich and Libby deserved pardons is too exhaustive an issue to go into any further, but even if they did, the Presidents who signed them were clearly in no position to independently assess that decision.

As one critic has pointed out, Madison himself – the chief defender of the pardon power – recommended impeachment for Presidents who pardon those who commit crimes in their service. But it's hardly surprising that Bush signed this pardon, though, and not just because we have become accustomed to expect sickening acts of cronyism from this President. The major check on a President's political decisions is public opinion, and that's already long gone in the final stages of a lame-duck Presidency. At this point, Bush has little to lose..
I'm glad that George Bush is a loyal friend, even if only for John Howard's sake, but too often this has led him into serious errors. The choice of his personal lawyer, Harriet Miers, for a Supreme Court vacancy was appalling enough, and his old Texan buddy Alberto Gonzales' time as Attorney-General has been a disaster. That Bush simply overturn a 30 month jail sentence, though, is simply indefensible. If a President can pardon anyone who breaks the law to protect him, an administration cannot be called to account except by the lengthy and partisan process of impeachment. Unfortunately, the admirable override system that is supposed to prevent unjust outcomes has itself created one.

Photo: AP

Free Tibet, and while you're at it, free Bindi too

What on earth was the Dalai Lama doing at Australia Zoo today? Okay, that was a rhetorical question, I know the answer. He was talking about kindness to animals and the environment. At... the Crocoseum. But what he was also doing was throwing another log on the blaze that is the media spotlight on Bindi Irwin, the Crocodile Heiress. She had to pose for pics with the big guy and sit patiently during what was in all probability a lengthy and complex lecture on Buddhist philosophy. At which point I started wondering whether His Holiness should have added Bindi to his "things to be kind to" list as well.

There's been endless politicking over His Holiness will meet with on the course of his travels around Australia, but no matter how long the list is, or how many Prime Ministers find that their diary has spectacularly cleared right after their political opponent meets with the Dalai Lama, surely he could have found more meaningful company than little Bindi. And surely he, with his centuries-old wisdom, would have thought better of giving yet another fillip to the Irwins' attempts to keep the juggernaut alive through the medium of an 8-year-old girl? For all the talk of how unique Steve was – and he was a remarkable entertainer – they sure are doing their darnedest to prove he isn't irreplaceable.
It's necessary, I guess, when you have a massive business to promote and your greatest asset is no longer with you. But I'm not alone in finding the attempts at continuity a little freaky – as we saw in the piece on Bindi's new series Jungle Girl in Stay In Touch earlier this week.
I found wandering around the Australia Zoo website a bit disconcerting as well – in particular the way they write Bindi's name as though it were a lipstick logo. It's the same on her DVD, on the podium from which she launched her show, and most disconcertingly, on the page advertising her big ninth birthday bash. Look, there she is with the Veronicas! Kids get in for free accompanied by adults. But what's strangest is the awful photo of her with extended arms. Forget appearing in a TV show that seamlessly integrates your late father as if he were still alive – this photo is truly freaky.
And is it just me, or is their big Father's Day event, advertised with a photo of Steve and the kids, just too tragic for words?
I particularly liked the comment that SIT reproduced from the New York Times, that Bindi is "affecting childhood rather than experiencing it". And I've had that bizarre sensation whenever I've seen her appear in public – at the Logies and at Steve's funeral. It's like she's too slick, too perfectly coached. Check out the interview on Letterman. Bindi seems like she's rehearsed most of her responses, right down to the hand gestures. And note the logo on her t-shirt, of course. Branding's ever so important when you're trying to launch a product.
So I found it a little incongruous to see the highly-respected Dalai Lama entering the Irwin maelstrom of slick publicity. But then I realised that he's not that different, really. Sure, a life spent studying Buddhism is a little different from learning how to jump on crocodiles. But both the Dalai Lama and the Irwins support worthy causes, are larger than life,and they have turned their own images into powerful publicity machines to try and reach the mainstream.
Also, the Dalai Lama didn't get much of a choice about whether he wanted to spend his life being the reincarnated spiritual leader of Tibet, and one imagines Bindi hasn't exactly had a chance to work out whether she wants a normal life either.
Nor is His Holiness averse to tacky celebrity crossovers, either. I could scarcely believe it, but the Dalai's free concert in the Botanic Gardens is being MCed by Andrew G. I can only hope that G shaves his head for the occasion.
The Tibet lobby have given up on seeking independence from the PRC. What they seek now is autonomy – the chance to have control over much of their own destinies. It's a struggle Bindi might find herself having in the years to come as well. No-one can fault their efforts at conserving wildlife (well, no-one except Germaine Greer, anyway.) I only hope Bindi doesn't live to resent this attempt at conserving her family's media profile as well.
Photo: AP

It's Stacks On Catholics Day

Everyone's fighting with Catholics in the news today. Most of Australia's Catholic politicians are angrily attacking George Pell's threat of "consequences" if they supported stem cell research, noted ethicist Gisele Bundchen is getting stuck into the Brazilian Catholic Church, and a strange man is clambering into the back of the Papal jeep. So I may as well jump on the bandwagon, if not the actual Popemobile itself.

George Pell's suggestion he may move to in some way exclude Catholic politicians who vote for stem cell legislation, or maintain the legality of abortions, is nothing short of reprehensible. It is fundamentally undemocratic for elected representatives to make judgements of this nature on the basis of their individual religious beliefs, rather than the position of the voters that elected them and the broader society that they represent.
I don't have a problem with political parties whose platform is based around explicit Christian positions, like the Christian Democrats. Well, actually, I do have a problem with them. But at least they're being upfront about what they want to do. But with Tony Abbott as Health Minister, we had national policy on RU486 being determined on the basis of his anti-abortion beliefs, and that was utterly inappropriate.
Politics is generally not about moral absolutes. It's about striking an appropriate balance between competing interests. With respect to stem cells, you have a division between people who think it's a form of murder, and the need for medical research that may alleviate terrible suffering. That strikes me as an extremely simple equation to balance. George Pell is welcome to dislike the practice, and speak against it from the pulpit, and suggest that members of his flock not personally become involved in the practice, but that is the limit of his rightful influence. But the very idea that he should have the right to prevent people from worshipping because they have followed their oath to serve the community as best they can is a medieval attitude.
George Pell has no special divine insight, and I think this is what most irritates me about the way that the Catholic Church approaches these issues. It's never about debate, and always about taking dictation. Pell is, no doubt, a formidable Biblical scholar. But trying to work out what Jesus would have thought about 21st century medical technology is surely largely guesswork. He spent most of his life railing against simplistic religious dogma that prevented the sick from being healed, so perhaps this might be a better example for Cardinal Pell to follow? But no. Instead the George Pells of the world try to bludgeon their followers into doing what they say. Earlier in the week he tried to get all the leaders in the Catholic school system to pledge to follow the Church's teachings, and now he's threatening to punish our political leaders as well. Is there a commandment that said "Thou shalt not bully"?
Seriously, if George Pell can turn water into wine (or wine into water might be more useful at this time, actually), I'm happy to take his opinions as representative of the will of God. But until that time, he's just a man, and an unpleasant one at that. Priests have a lot to contribute to current affairs – look at Frank Brennan, for instance – but their role should be to teach, and to try and convince, not to bludgeon. And they would do well to remember that they have no authority over those of us who don't attend their church – or even, really, those who do.
I do draw the line, though, at likening the Cardinal to "serial boofhead" Sheik Hilaly, as Nathan Rees did in Parliament yesterday. Not only is the Sheik considerably more entertaining, but I don't see George Pell appearing in Chaser sketches alongside Anthony Mundine.
Gisele Bundchen – who I have always admired, though not generally for her statements on matters of morality – was right to heap ridicule on the church's efforts to suppress condom use. George Pell's opposition to stem cell research and abortion is based on the worthy idea that killing is wrong. But opposing condoms in AIDS-riven societies is effectively killing people as well. Even the most uncontroversial moral absolute has its grey areas and opportunities for hypocrisy. I've always been particularly irritated, for instance, by the way American pro-life politicians who refuse to acknowledge the complexities of the abortion debate are generally all too happy to apply the death penalty.
Hypothetically speaking, if the entire population of Africa were to die out because of the AIDS virus (with the exception of Catholic Priests, of course, who never have sex) should we expect the last Catholic alive to virtuously cross himself as he lies on his deathbed as some manner of sarcoma consumes him, and say "At least nobody used a condom"?
All that the Cardinal is doing is encouraging Catholic politicians to ignore him, and encouraging voters not to support Catholic politicians. If he wants to live in a state that's run according to his church's principles, I would strongly encourage him to move to the Vatican City. (They have excellent security there, apparently.) There's a reason why there's a division between church and state in this country, and George Pell is it.

Australia's Next Reality TV Offcasts

What a shame Australia's Next Top Model is drawing to a close today. And with it, the brief period in the spotlight for the contestants, who will now fade back into the obscurity whence the came. All, that is, except Alice, who will surely win the live final tonight. Despite being painfully shy and having a signature look that involves staring vacantly into space with her mouth hanging open, she's the only genuinely modellish-looking one in the group. And that includes Jodhi Meares.

Not that looking modellish is necessarily something to aspire to, of course. Meares bursts with health onscreen, which is why she never really became known for her catwalk work. The current 'look' seems to require you to look like the unfortunate byproduct of an alien impregnation. Gemma Ward has a lot to answer for. So whereas in everyday life, Alice finds her long limbs quite a chore – and the scenes of her hugging her more petite mother were hilariously awkward – she just looks great on the catwalk.
It was ironic watching both Steph and Jordan tear strips off her last week because they reckoned she hadn't worked as hard as them, and is just naturally more model-looking. How ridiculous. Since when did the modelling industry ever give a rats about effort instead of looks? Modelling is one of those things in life that's just unfair, like being born into the Packer family. In fact, modelling generally leads to joining the Packer family in this country, at least temporarily. And the best of luck to you, James and Erica.
No-one in the industry actually works hard, let's be honest. Steph, Jordan and the rest of them have had their 15 minutes of fame already, and some of them will probably get more modelling work. Jordy put together quite the natty deodorant ad, and who knows, maybe she'll get a gig advertising air freshener and toilet ducks as well?
Alice is up against Steph in the grand finale tonight, and I was amused to see this website juxtaposing a profile of her with the "youth gone wild" story about the Central Coast, where she grew up. Erina Fair or no Erina Fair (and I've been there, and it ain't exactly Compton) I think it'd be fair to say that there isn't much that's wild about young Steph. Likeable, sure, when not whinging about Alice. And she's been wonderfully entertaining, inquiring about whether Chile was a country or that hot stuff you put on food, and insisting that she's not dumb. "I know about Moroccan food and that Moroccan food exists," she protested. "I just didn't know that it came from a country called Morocca." I hope she wins, or at least gets cast in Zoolander II. The modelling industry would be much the poorer without her talents.
(There's even more priceless Steph magic on the blog. I know it seems elitist to laugh at someone because they don't know the difference between the Airport Link station and the actual airport, but shucks, I just did.)
Top Model was strangely addictive, and I'll miss it. Thank God Tyra's mob are back next week. But despite the heated competition, it's clear who the real winner of Australia's Next Top Model is. And that is a gentleman by the name of Jonathan Pease. With his boundless energy and even more boundless wardrobe, not to mention that ridiculous side-swept hairstyle, Pease was the true star of ANTM 3. It's no surprise that it won him his own show, Confidential. I hope he still has the same haircut when he's seventy. And I'll be checking. Armed with oh-so-witty publicity stunts up his sleeve like giving his own clothes out to homeless people, the sky's clearly the limit for the Peasemeister.
At least compared to the contestants, poor things. And thanks, girls, it's been surprisingly entertaining for a straight-to-cable show. I hope I one day run into you at my local supermarket. If not on the cover of a fashion magazine, then at least behind the counter.

Garrett recession? Try a Howard drought

The Coalition would not be at all happy with the headline on the front cover of today's SMH. Yesterday was the showpiece Prime Ministerial address at the Federal Liberal Council, where John Howard had his chance to lay out the ideas everyone hoped would catapult him to a remarkable fifth election win. He seeded some slogans we'll probably see a lot more of before election day, and, crucially, unveiled a new climate change-based scare campaign designed to turn around the perception that Labor is the party that's hip to global warming. And what did the Herald report this morning? "Voters dread Costello switch."

Yep, that old leadership genie is out of the bottle again. The genie that the ALP tried to unleash last time around with posters of Costello on election day, but which failed as voters decided they preferred the prospect of the Treasurer to Mark Latham. But Kevin Rudd's no Latham, at least in the eyes of the electorate. (Although there are still those who miss the swashbuckling Latham days.) And the prospect of Costello might still prove to be electoral poison when we go to the polls.
The story was based on "internal Labor Party polling, obtained by the Herald." Oh really? And how, one wonders, did such a damaging story fall into the hands of this newspaper at the precise time when the Coalition were looking for favourable media coverage? Bit of a coincidence, wouldn't you say? I've no idea what the source was, but the timing made me hark back to an Alan Ramsey column dating all the way back to, oh, Saturday, when he revealed how John Faulkner's office had leaked the "lying rodent" story to Laurie Oakes. As he put it, the story "knocked Howard's start to the campaign right off balance." A touch of deja vu, perhaps?
Not entirely. Because other dynamics in this campaign couldn't be more different. Rudd is no Latham, as I said before, but also, it increasingly seems that Howard 2007 isn't a patch on Howard 2004. Last time, Latham was the economic bogeyman, a pitch which proved devastatingly effective. But, just as Peter Debnam's ads passed over Iemma and tried to scare people about Tripodi, Sartor and Costa, John Howard has given up on Kevin Rudd and tried to paint Peter Garrett as the man who can't be trusted with the economy. He talked about a "Garrett recession", and pointed to the shadow environment minister's one-time comments about taking all cars off the road and shutting down the coal-fired power stations by 2020. Just as he pleaded to the Australian public to leave him in charge of their interest rates last time, he's now portraying himself as the man who can defend our economy from rabid Greenies.
Boy, he wasn't lying when he said he didn't have a rabbit to pull out of his hat. Talk about a drought – I can't remember, in all John Howard's time in office, a less convincing attempt at scaremongering. Does anyone, in all honesty, believe that Peter Garrett will take the cars off the road? Does anyone actually believe he will even have the capacity, let alone the inclination, to plunge the nation into a recession?
Unlike Latham, he isn't the leader. He isn't the man we're thinking about electing – or who, by contrast with the unpopular Costello, might take over. If the best the Prime Minister can do at his showpiece Federal Council is try and dust up a relatively junior shadow minister, who's seen by much of the nation as a great bloke, then he might as well hang up his Akubra and head up to Hawk's Nest now.
And this shows how much the political agenda has changed in the past year. At the moment, Howard is fighting the election on climate change. In a Karl Rove-style manoeuvre, he's trying to take the ALP on where it's strongest, as the party that is clearly more in touch with the sudden popular concern about climate change. But to do the Rove manoeuvre relies on an effective smear campaign, like the Swift Boat veterans or the whispers about John McCain's sexual history. If you can't land a blow on your opponent – not an underling like Garrett – the tactic can backfire massively.
Peter Hartcher's response today quickly dispatched the Howard argument to the boundary, so I won't dive into the detail again. What fascinates me about this situation is just how out of touch these comments make Prime Minister seem. His famous antennae, that saw him pick exactly the right theme to align himself with the values of the voters he needed on four previous occasions, seem to be faltering.
Primarily, it's a problem of incumbency. After so many years of inaction on climate change, after ridiculing Labor's pro-Kyoto stance for most of the past decade, it's almost impossible to turn around and paint yourself as serious on climate change. George Bush hasn't been able to do it, and nor can John Howard. And Kevin Rudd has the advantage of being a new broom, who just sounds like he gets it.
If we really are moving into a period where climate change dominates politics for much of the next decade – and it'd be brave to predict that the current level of interest is a flash in the pan, at a time when even Rupert Murdoch is on the bandwagon – the man the Coalition needs up front is not John Howard or Peter Costello, but Malcolm Turnbull. He's associated himself with this crusade for years, even when no-one else in the Government seemed interested. He's younger, he's clever, and he seems to be committed enough to the environment to take the problem seriously. Coupled to which, he has enormous economic credibility because of his own success. And that's John Howard's biggest problem on this issue. Whereas he seemed utterly sincere when he vowed to protect us from unwanted arrivals, it just doesn't seem like he actually cares about climate change. It seems like he's trying to pretend to win an election, and it isn't convincing anyone.
The concept of a Garrett recession just isn't going to wash with an electorate that's increasingly worried about global warming. Right now, the thing that's scaring us in not John Howard's doomsday scenario, but Al Gore's.