It’s a remarkable thing to see a populist political stance transform into a liability in front of your eyes. So it is with the federal Coalition’s adventures in climate denialism.
Consider the story arc commencing with Tony Abbott’s leadership: what was once perhaps the most potent stick an opposition leader has wielded – leaving both Kevin Rudd and Julia Gillard in its wreckage – this week disintegrated to the point that even the Coalition’s own colleagues in the NSW government have now abandoned them.
Our government understands at least some of these things, which is probably why it loves free trade agreements, and why Scott Morrison as treasurer was so dismissive of Tony Abbott’s suggestion that we slash immigration, citing the billions of dollars it would cost the budget. But this government has now entered a phase of reflex nationalist posturing (remember that thing about acknowledging veterans on Virgin Australia flights?). It simply cannot resist an opportunity to wear the flag as a cape and tell the world who’s in charge. You might love or loathe that as you please. The trouble really starts once you believe the fantasy it offers, because it’s unravelling around the world before our very eyes.
That leakage started in 2016, but it wasn’t fatal because Trump managed to offset it with those working-class gains in the Midwest. Now he’s handed back those gains, and the suburbs have continued to desert. Trump’s Republican Party is now a rural one, capable of consolidating its rural support in the most Republican territory, but right now, not much else. The result is defeat in the House of Representatives despite a Republican-friendly gerrymander and a concerted effort in several Republican states to suppress the vote of Democrat-leaning minorities. It might not be the landslide the Democrats were hoping for, but we’re still talking about a win in the popular vote of around 9 per cent.
But perhaps some obligations should be beyond political calculations. Perhaps there are times to spend political capital on people other than colleagues, allies and donors. Perhaps there are times to spend it on those whose people were wronged enough to receive a formal apology a decade ago, who’ve since seen several policies that concern them effectively abandoned, and who in spite of that, when asked to give us their ideas share them from the heart. Perhaps, but apparently not this week.
The question isn’t whether Turnbull survives. It’s whether in the long run the Liberal Party does.
Terrorism is terrorism irrespective of the perpetrator’s reason for carrying it out.
Trump’s actions point to a serious crisis now brewing in American democracy.
As a general rule, it’s probably wise to ignore what Donald Trump tweets. But I couldn’t help break that rule this week.
Trump can only do this – after taking it to a never-ending election campaign – because the cultural environment exists to receive it as some version of common sense.
The greatest hallmark of the Coalition’s baked-in streak of climate denialism is the extent to which it will contort itself not to have a credible policy.
Pauline Hanson’s big idea is that Australia is under relentless attack from minorities that swamp us without assimilating.
Waleed Aly has expressed dismay over Australia’s willingness to accept black deaths in custody.
There is an historic rejection of the political establishment underway.
There are flashpoints – negative gearing, maybe some health funding, possibly even boats – but there’s no central, definitive theme.
If Donald Trump is elected president of the United States, London’s new mayor would be barred from entering the country because he’s a Muslim.
Waleed Aly’s Gold Logie wasn’t only a win for diversity on Australian TV – it was a win for intelligent public debate.
Haters gonna hate. Winners gonna win.
Martin McMahon comments on Waleed Aly’s assessment of Australia’s bipartisan asylum seeker policy, highlighting his points with a refugee’s personal story.
‘Stopping the boats’ was a bipartisan policy and both sides of politics are responsible for its monstrous outcomes.
Buckle down folks, there’s a fresh race controversy brewing. That’s good news if you’re trying to whip-up interest in the annual paint-drying festival that is The Logies, and bad news if you’re averse to a little tabloid-style dog whistling. With Waleed Aly and Lee Lin Chin nominated for the Gold Logie, Australia can once againMore
In Waleed Aly’s Fairfax column last week he explained the “anatomy” of our national neurosis, the one that periodically erupts whenever white men are challenged about their natural order. The order they have been appointed to the very apex of by, variously, God, their kleptocrat mates or miscellaneous undisclosed donors. Out they trotted last week to bewailMore
The Project tracked down the scientist behind the graph Bolt keeps using on his show. ‘He has a message for you.’
The Project’s Waleed Aly has proven he’s more than just an accomplished journalist and lawyer, he’s also a bit of a rock star.
The dispiriting news feels like it’s coming in a torrent. Canada suffers two terrorist attacks in a week. Another attack in New York, this one with an axe, wounds two police officers before the attacker is shot dead. Immediately you recall the Melbourne case of Abdul Numan Haider, whose weapon of choice was a knife, but whose story had the same ending. Meanwhile, a Sydney teenager plays a starring role in two ISIL propaganda videos in a fortnight, while the man who apparently groomed and recruited him, Mohammad Ali Baryalei, is now very likely dead. This, you might feel, is encouraging until you consider that his symbolic pull is likely only to increase as a result of his “martyrdom”.
But pause for a moment and you notice something about this picture. We’re a long way from all the talk of dirty bombs and nuclear weapons of the Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld era. We’re nowhere near planes smashing into skyscrapers. We’re not even in the neighborhood of bombs being detonated on buses and underground trains, or in nightclubs. This stuff is galling and tragic. It occasions the same public grieving and ceremony, but we’re talking about something qualitatively different, here.
For the moment at least, mass-casualty terrorism is off the agenda. “Smash his head with a rock, or slaughter him with a knife, or run over him with your car,” urged ISIL last month as it called upon Muslims to kill random Westerners. There’s a kind of desperate crudeness, here: one that seems to have lowered its horizons. Today it’s about low-casualty, mass-impact terrorism. But that impact is far more psychological than it is material.
The point is not to dismiss this as trivial. It’s serious, not least because it’s clear that a few people have acted on ISIL’s instructions. It’s serious because, while mass-casualty attacks are clearly more devastating, they’re also much harder to pull off. Rather, the point is to note that something has changed. Terrorism is evolving. And so are the terrorists.
You see, they’re dickheads now. David Leyonhjelm’s description is a disarming one because it recasts these people as self-aggrandizing amateurs. There’s more than an element of truth to this. Zale Thompson’s axe-wielding attack in New York lasted a mere seven seconds before he was shot. He was, by all accounts, an unemployed loner with a record of multiple arrests.
In Canada, Michael Zehaf-Bibeau was living in a homeless shelter before he decided to open fire on the Parliament Building. This was a man with a crack cocaine habit, a suite of drug possession and theft episodes, and a history of mental illness. In this respect his story isn’t so far from Baryalei’s, which has more to do with cocaine, gambling and Kings Cross strip clubs than it does with advanced explosives training and a piercing political manifesto. He, too, has a history of mental illness, much like Khaled Sharrouf, who so infamously tweeted a picture of his son holding a severed head, and who was also diagnosed with schizophrenia.
This isn’t the way terrorism has tended to work. For all our knee-jerk descriptions of terrorists as mad, psychopathic or otherwise psychologically disturbed, decades of research has now demonstrated the opposite: that despite their clearly abnormal behavior, terrorists are overwhelmingly sane and psychologically normal. Nor have they tended to be antisocial loners. Terrorism has almost always been a group activity, carried out in cells that have strong bonds of solidarity between members. Certainly there have been “lone wolves” in history – some of them, such as the Unabomber, suffering from mental illness – but these have been exceptions to a well established rule.
But ISIL is playing by different rules. Its reach amongst Westerners is clearly skewed towards converts and born-again Muslims, often with troubled pasts. It tends not to appeal as much to those with long-held, well established religious commitments. That’s because ISIL isn’t merely offering an ideology. Like all fundamentalisms, it’s offering an identity: a chance for people to re-imagine themselves and restart their lives by turning their back in the most radical fashion on everything they’ve left behind. What better way to prove you’re free from the yoke of sin and drugs and sleaze than quite literally to take up arms against them? It’s not just the violence. It’s the illusion of purity and self-sacrifice that goes with it that is attractive.
This is particularly potent in an online era. It is precisely the fact that ISIL is so devastatingly effective online that means it doesn’t have to rely on the kind of group solidarity that has typically held terrorism together. This opens terrorism to people who previously would have been a liability. Someone who is mentally unstable or struggles to work with others is wholly unsuited to the kind of careful, secret planning that is so fundamental to professional terrorism. But no such concern applies when you’re trying to unleash the kind of rudimentary, randomized mayhem ISIL is. Suddenly the lone wolf, which was once an odd curiosity, is an emerging trend that sits near the top of the list of every Western security agency’s worries.
Those agencies will respond with what they know: increased hard power. It’s why we’re so attracted to more counter terrorism laws and military intervention. We have this intuitive understanding that these things work. And sometimes, in the short term, they do.
But at some point we’ll have to recognise that even as we chalk up successes like killing senior terrorist figures, the problem only seems to grow. Who’d have thought 10 years ago that we’d be raising the terror threat level to its highest point in our history after Osama bin Laden had been killed?
That happens because we’re dealing with something that is deeply, irrevocably social. Eradicating it therefore becomes as complex as eradicating any social disease. Truth is we’ve never figured out how to solve those. We can’t stop drug use. We can’t stop disaffection. We can’t stop alienation. Not entirely, anyway. And perhaps we can’t eradicate radicalisation, either, at least until the whole ghastly experiment of militant Islamism collapses under the weight of its nihilistic contradictions. But in the meantime, it won’t be crushed by our sledgehammers.