Malcolm Turnbull seems to be doing his best to help him. Labor ran an exceptionally sharp campaign, and Shorten and his team performed with more boldness, discipline and courage (not to mention flexibility and nimbleness) than had been expected. But that might never have taken them so close to the line had not Turnbull proven so wooden with his campaigning and seemingly, so inept in pushing the coalition's best points forward. The result has given Shorten a stature and respect he has not previously enjoyed, whether in the party or the electorate, and pushed off thoughts of an immediate challenge from Anthony Albanese.

Just as significantly, Turnbull's puzzling failure to be his moderate and liberal self, as well as his failure, post-election, to make any really significant changes to his ministerial team or style of government, gives Shorten, and Labor, fresh opportunities to move decisively into the middle ground of politics. This is ground that Turnbull must, sooner or later, occupy himself but, for the moment, he has been unwilling or unable to be the person voters had expected and wanted him to be.

The caution about substantial change was the more interesting given that some of his front line have not yet shown themselves to be assets for the team. Some ministers seemed to be banished from private or public performances; others did not make much of a contribution. Turnbull has not invested in wisdom, or in innovation and capacity to think outside the square. His Treasurer is faltering. The new additions seem fairly ho hum. If Turnbull is doing any succession planning, it is not obvious.

No great somersaults on policy or principle are necessary for Shorten to make an impression once parliament resumes, a month hence. Nor need he wait (nor has he), given Turnbull's self-inflicted problems with his new Senate. Nor does a recharged Labor necessarily have to engage in gesture politics, perform any shift of emphasis away from Labor's stronger reputation among voters, on health, education and social welfare, or make any retreat from its economic policies.

A good plan would be to work even harder to implant Labor's more activist image as the party that actually means to do something about climate change, and to provide the basis for a new economy with a first-rate broadband system. These could be the centrepiece of a recharged "plan" to change Australia for the better (and to make the government seem mean, gutless, ideological and out of touch). Nor need there be any sign of walking away from being willing to make unpopular decisions on government spending and the raising of new revenue.

Shorten also has the opportunity to seem conciliatory and helpful, rather than obstructive, to government, while at the same time playing fairly hard with such power he, and the Greens, have over Senate numbers. He is already doing this with offers to be helpful to the government over measures to increase revenue, on the proviso that Turnbull drop significant elements of his reductions to the company tax rate. He and the Senate have a similar capacity to play with the government's mind over the same-sex marriage plebiscite, and the game can probably also be played profitably in the House of Representatives, especially if there is a continuing stress on the cost of a plebiscite and a need for tough decisions.

In certain respects, however, a deeply cynical Labor might well think that it can surrender, reluctantly, to the idea of a plebiscite, given that it has far more capacity to divide the coalition than it does the opposition.

If history is any guide, the challenges facing Turnbull are not primarily about his slight majority in the lower house. Rather they involve his sense of the mood and philosophies of his back bench, and his capacity to win arguments, on merit, in the cabinet. Although he deserves gratitude for maintaining the party in power, he has done so in a way that has caused a collapse of confidence in his judgment and in his political skills. The election may have shown that voters wanted stability and reassurance, but the most attractive part of Turnbull on offer was not one of confidence and self-belief, but of a sort of eerie calm, particularly when compared with the more impish Shorten. Turnbull and the party organisation must bear the responsibility for campaign themes and programming. But the absence of some players was striking, as was the ineptness of Scott Morrison as chief salesman for the idea that the coalition had a plan, that it was somehow in charge of the national destiny, and that it was all about creating jobs.

Polls consistently showed that the result would be close. But they also showed that most voters (and most commentators, including myself) expected the coalition to win. It may well be that this second perception worked to Shorten's advantage, because those watching his performance were impressed enough to give him a vote, if in the complacent expectation that it would not take him over the line. The Abbott-Turnbull government had done more than enough bad things to deserve a good kick in the pants – indeed everyone expected that it would get one. There seemed little mood for a change.

Shorten's surprisingly good performance, the election spotlight and the fact that an election pushes people behind the leader, suggested that his popularity had increased during the campaign. He has tried hard, since the election to maintain some momentum. But it seemed clear that any reassessment was more about perceptions of his competence than of his character. Oddly, the much expected attacks on his character, based on allegations he had regularly sold out members of his union to further his ambitions and self-interests, and that he was a treacherous factional warrior, did not materialise.

All this could suggest that some voters were not coldly considering him as prime minister, nor contemplating a Labor regime. He was being rewarded for trying. If this was the case, it is clear that a rather more careful eye will be focused on him at the next election, in 2019, if he is still around. And this time, the focus will be less on questions of competence, a plan, or a united party, but on the electorate's being relaxed about his character, his personality and his predispositions.

This is Shorten's continuing problem, and continuing weakness, in his caucus, in his party, and out in the electorate. The doubts are not primarily about his careerism in the trade union movement, or about his practice of the dark arts of backroom politics, although none of these have gone away. They are about trust, about his judgment, vision and credibility.

It can be taken as read that voters now see him as a person who can capably manage a portfolio or a brief, and that he can, with help, stitch together a proposition which can command the support of over half of his caucus. But is he a man his team want to follow?

Or that, three years hence, more than half of the electorate will want to follow? Once the electorate takes him seriously, as a potential prime minister, will it tend to respect his instincts, and give him their affection or respect?

There's an interesting contrast with Turnbull, who seems to have been long judged by voters as an interesting and open-minded person and personality, a person who (now at least) takes some time to listen and to judge. Many people now seem to be disappointed that this character and personality is not on display. Likewise, it seems clear that his political judgment is suspect and his political reflexes dulled. This may undermine confidence in his leadership, but it does not seem to have undermined respect for his qualities, or some sense or feeling that he is sound and predictable.

John Howard, who revelled in his ordinariness, once remarked that people felt that they "knew" him; for good or for bad. Most people feel that they know Turnbull.

Shorten has been around long enough that voters have had their opportunity to "know" him. The evidence suggests that the impressions of his character and personality are unfavourable. These impressions are the default setting. It is likely that the voters' eye and ear will become more critical once people understand that only a minor swing could put him in the Lodge. One would have to go back to Billy McMahon to find a person about whose temperament, personality and fundamental character so many had such doubts. There may have been greater bastards – depending on one's perspective, say, Malcolm Fraser, Bob Hawke, or, once in office Kevin Rudd. But each of these had about them an essence, a background and characteristics that made some men and women believe in them, want to follow them, or trust them.

Can Shorten set a new national mood? Can he articulate some emotional, as opposed to rational, reason why others should follow his lead? Has he got some trait – apart from self-belief – that intrigues, or fascinates, or invites some sympathy? Does he inspire? Do people aspire to him?

It has been oft remarked that when Australia changes a prime minister, it changes the country. It is by no means clear just how Turnbull can so far be said to have done it (other than by not being Tony Abbott). But it is interesting to contemplate the mind of voters were they to hand the reins to Shorten in 2019. Would it simply be in anxiety to throw the current scoundrels out? Labor has never won an election this way (although the coalition has). Would it indicate some significant shift in public opinion, say over action on climate change? Or would it involve the electorate's falling in love with a new and attractive suitor? Could that suitor be Shorten?

Labor may have seen the best that Shorten can do in drawing votes, in managing a team, and in describing a program of government. Despite Turnbull's determination to help him, it might be all downhill from here. If that is the case, it should be working over a succession plan now.