The Turnbull government's only instability is the Coalition, not Parliament

Their perception about the 2007 global financial crisis was not sharp and they didn't have the excuse of less-expert others who also couldn't see the dangers. Still chastened by that experience, it might be expected that these agencies would now be preternaturally prudent about their judgments; some haven't been.

Early last month, S&P hopped in to put the Australian government's AAA credit rating on a "negative outlook". Part of the reason for doing so, it said, was that: "Given the outcome of the July 2 double-dissolution election ... we believe fiscal consolidation may be further postponed." But at the time of this judgment, the "outcome" of the election was far from clear and, even at the time of writing this column, the final Senate result is not in. That S&P couldn't wait until the election "outcome" was available before wagging its finger does nothing for its credibility. Perhaps a government agency to rate the credit-rating agencies would help.

In any event, sundry representatives of business have been quick to echo S&P in moaning about gathering "instability" because no political party has untrammelled control of the Parliament. They seem to forget that, in the past 60 years or so, it's been rare for any party to have an absolute majority in the Senate and that the Gillard government passed a lot of legislation through the House of Representatives when it lacked control of that chamber. They also apparently fail to remember that democratic politics is essentially the business of compromise and the public interest can sometimes be served by that being necessary in the houses of Parliament.

As it now stands, the government has a practical majority in the House and the support of most crossbenchers. In the Senate, it's plausible that, on many matters, it will be able to deal effectively with right-leaning senators in such a way as to negate the voting influence of Labor and Greens in that chamber. That is, the Senate may be more "stable" under the new government than it was under its predecessor or the Abbott regime.

Perhaps the main threats to stability are to be found within the Coalition: from Barnaby Joyce's shameless pork barrelling, epitomised in his attempts to move the Australian Pesticides and Veterinary Medicines Authority into his electorate solely for political reasons, to the restlessness of its conservative rump that didn't do well in the election. Tony Abbott had a 9.2 per cent primary vote swing against him and his mate Andrew Nikolic was given the boot from Bass.

Among other things, a government's effectiveness and order are affected by the ways in which it arranges and operates the machinery of government: how it structures cabinet, allocates functions to ministers and their departments, and treats statutory authorities, which are created to remove parts of the administration from ministers' direct supervision.

In parts, the Rudd and Gillard governments' allocation of functions to ministers and departments was messy. They complicated lines of authority and accountability via forms of matrix management that had ministers responsible for functions across different departments. Although not of great consequence, they also gave their ministries silly names – perhaps none sillier that the ministry of sustainability, environment, water, population and communities.

The Abbott Government removed some of the Rudd-Gillard follies. Via Finance Minister Mathias Cormann's efforts, it also took an interest in the large number of non-departmental organisations, abolishing some, amalgamating others and bringing forth a related statement of policy. This was a bit hit-and-miss but it's unusual for governments to concern themselves with the detail of administrative machinery and Cormann's efforts were worthwhile.

On the other hand, the Abbott government behaved badly towards independent agencies who dared not to toe its line; the Human Rights Commission and the ABC, for example, were boxed around the ears. It also took a relentlessly partisan line on senior appointments – sacking departmental secretaries because of work they undertook professionally under the old regime and making sure that appointees to statutory positions were politically congenial; habits that Malcolm Turnbull disavowed to a significant degree after he turfed Abbott.

Turnbull's approach to organising the administration has otherwise been minimalist. He's not sacked any departmental secretaries – indeed, he brought back an Abbott victim, Martin Parkinson – and his alterations to the Administrative Arrangements Order (the document allocating functions to departments) involved little change, both when he became Prime Minister and after last month's election. Indeed, the post-election alterations have not thus far resulted in a new order, merely an amendment to the old one. That's unusual.

Before getting into details, it should be appreciated that the overall structure of any democratic government's administration will be as much affected by political considerations as what might be suggested in a world where rational principles of organisation can be more strictly applied. The strength of political factions and the interests and abilities of the main political players often have the same influence as things like the co-location of like functions, an even spread of responsibilities and manageable spans of control.

So let's start from the top with the new machinery of government: its cabinet. Turnbull's now has 23 members. That's a big number; the biggest since Gough Whitlam's in the 1970s. Robert Menzies' 10th cabinet had 15, Bob Hawke's first and John Howard's third had 15, and Kevin Rudd's first had 20. The simple point is that bigger cabinets can be more unwieldy than smaller ones, other things being equal. In what appears to be a slightly fractious Coalition, it may be that the Prime Minister, to use Lyndon Johnson's graphic terms, is trying to keep as many inside the tent pissing out than outside pissing in, although with the three amigos – Eric Abetz, Kevin Andrews and Cory Bernardi – not holding back, the dominant flow is hard to assess.

So far as specific administrative arrangements are concerned, two aspects have attracted a good deal of comment: Christopher Pyne's appointment as Defence Industry Minister and the combination of the government's energy and conservation functions into a single portfolio.

Two commentators in Fairfax Media, no less, have misunderstood the Pyne appointment. Nicholas Stuart says it is "a reckless splitting of the defence portfolio"; Alan Gray says it has "split the defence portfolio" akin to the creation of the Department of Defence Support in the 1980s. This, these columnists say, is "perhaps one of the worst decisions to affect defence in the past 20 years", will "add another layer of ministerial oversight" and will lead to "acrimony between two portfolios". The consequences are claimed to be "ongoing paralysis", a "compromise of the ADF's overall effectiveness" and with "industry needs" now determining "the future shape of the forces, not strategic requirements", among other things.

These analyses are a fair way up the creek.

The defence portfolio has not been split. That's clear from the ministerial list the government has published. Pyne's appointment required no amendment to the Administrative Arrangements Order. There is no Department of Defence Support. Defence remains a single entity with a number of ministers responsible for different aspects of it, as has long been the case. The fourth Howard ministry had two defence ministers and a parliamentary secretary; Rudd's first had ministers for defence, materiel, science and personnel in various combinations, as did the first and second Gillard governments. And these arrangements were not required for the existence of the Defence Materiel Organisation as an executive agency from 2005 to 2015. Moreover, at least since the great machinery of government changes in the mid-1980s, many portfolios have had more than one minister and many still do.

The fact is that spans of control for ministers in defence are large; the provision of extra ministers can narrow them. That doesn't "add another layer of ministerial supervision". Ministers will divide responsibilities and get on with it in the expectation that one will need to seek the agreement of the other only infrequently. Far from causing "paralysis", it should speed up the despatch of business and improve the ADF's effectiveness.

A genuine oddity of Pyne's appointment is that it puts him as a notionally political senior to Defence Minister Marise Payne in what has been a junior position within the defence portfolio. No doubt as companionable fellows, they'll be able to sort out a workable relationship. A more serious problem with Payne and Pyne may be that they will allow their state loyalties to have an undue influence. However, even if that happened and South Australia became an even greater defence largesse, the idea that "industry needs" would "determine the future shape of the forces, not strategic requirements" seriously overstates the risk.

The combination of the government's energy and environment functions in one portfolio may be more problematic. Obviously, the interest of these functions will often conflict. Placing both in one portfolio will likely mean that conflicting views will typically be resolved within the minister's department, with a single view being presented to the cabinet. That is, cabinet will be less fully informed on contending views than if the functions were represented by separate ministers. Take an analogy: if social security functions were merged into the Finance Department, what chance would the former have a strong voice in cabinet?

These few considerations aside, however, Turnbull's new administrative arrangements involve minimal change. They're a sign of the kind of stability credit-rating agencies and some business types admire.

To end on a sleazy note, we turn to the ACT government and its appointment of an opposition politician, Brendan Smyth, as a commissioner for international engagement. The position was filled a couple of days after its creation was announced and clearly without proper process, like canvassing possible applicants via advertising or any other means. It's gutter politics calculated to gain political advantage in the forthcoming ACT election. It's malodorous enough, however, to be futile.

At the same time, the ACT government seems determined to further restrict the scope for its officials to express their views publicly. The commissioner for public administration, Bronwen Overton-Clarke, reportedly said public servants must "uphold the good reputation of the ACTPS at all times they are identifiable as a public servant". To rub salt into the wound, the explanatory memorandum on the proposed rules says "the need to retain public confidence in the public service outweighs any impingement on an individual's right ... to freedom of expression or participation in the democratic process". That's right: "at all times" and "any impingement".

This nonsense betrays a fundamental misperception about the basis for restrictions on public comment by public officials. And why should Chief Minister Andrew Barr so worry about the reputation of the ACT Public Service when he degrades it by not using proper merit processes to make appointments to public offices?

Paddy Gourley is a former senior public servant. pdg@home.netspeed.com.au