Who speaks for Australia? This question lurks beneath the surface of much that has happened recently, whether it was the choice of Australian of the Year, the early days of the informal federal election campaign, or even the public division and reconciliation at the Australian Tennis Open.
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The answer to the question must be plural. The job is too big and complex. But if it is one person, is it Dylan Alcott or his predecessor Grace Tame? Is it one of our political leaders, Scott Morrison or Anthony Albanese? Is it Ash Barty or the Special Ks? Is it our Governor-General?
The answer differs depending on whether you are attracted to quiet dignity, formality and reserve, party-political spin and aggressive combat, or the aspirations and loud energy of younger Australians.
The answer may be generational. The two most recent Australians of the Year are young. Alcott is 31 and Tame is still just 27. Barty and the two Ks are also in their 20s.
Following her recent personal encounter with Morrison, Tame suffered criticism that her behaviour was childish and/or immature. Her many defenders responded that these critics failed to understand the generational divide underpinning the no-bullshit approach to advocacy by young women and men.
She was also criticised by a Coalition politician for being partisan and political. The former allegation is no surprise coming from a politician, but the latter is just what most recent Australians of the Year have been in advocating their cause.
Morrison and Albanese are not old for politicians, but they are middle-aged. Morrison is 53 and Albanese is 58. It is extremely difficult for our Prime Minister and Leader of the Opposition to speak for all Australians. That has always been the case given party politics, but the nature of competitive, media-driven modern politics makes that even more unlikely. We may give passing respect to the offices they hold, but party supporters give no credit to the leader of the other side, and the public doesn't trust either Morrison or Albanese to deliver on their promises. They are treated with cynicism because they are identified as party-political creatures.
Our Governor-General, David Hurley, is 68, past normal retirement age. He was previously a distinguished army officer and governor of NSW. He goes about his role very quietly, some would say invisibly. The constraints on this role are clear, though his interpretation of them seems especially narrow. Regardless of his admirable personal qualities, his voice is notably absent when it comes to speaking for Australians on important national occasions. He, rather than the Prime Minister, should present the Australian of the Year awards, for instance.
Governors-general are appointed for five-year terms as an indication that the position demands continuity, and that they stand above the passing parade of elected political leaders. They stay around, rarely becoming highly visible, unless they are Sir John Kerr in the 1975 constitutional crisis when he sacked the prime minister, Gough Whitlam.
Prime ministers are elected, as leaders of the winning party, for three-year terms in office, although if they keep winning elections there is no barrier to them staying around longer. Some former prime ministers have served conspicuously longer terms. Elections mean that their mandate to speak for Australians must be regularly renewed. That is the key to parliamentary democracy, and the election later this year.
The Australian of the Year is given a term of just one year. They are free to speak their mind. They are one person, chosen by an independent selection committee. They do not suffer the constitutional constraints of the Governor-General, who has longevity but is expected to be safe and apolitical. They are not worried by opinion polls nor the need to seek and win re-election like prime ministers.
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They also, like the Governor-General but unlike the Prime Minister, are not constrained by being the leader of a team. In the case of the present Prime Minister, he leads not just one political party but essentially two, as the head of a Coalition government.
This is the situation and job description facing the 2022 Australian of the Year, Dylan Alcott. He has been given a short, 12-month window of opportunity to speak to and for Australians. The honour will remain for a lifetime, but by January 2023 there will be another Australian of the Year advocating for a different cause.
Alcott was chosen from a strong field as a remarkable person, a living embodiment of life lived to the full despite a disability; but also as an advocate for and representative of the disabled. It is a precious opportunity. He is also respected as an elite athlete, even if some traditional tennis fans think he is too voluble on the court.
Inevitably the disability space is highly political, given that as well as being about personal respect and opportunities it is about political leadership, government policies and public funding. It is about that old political trifecta: who gets what, when and how.
That is why speaking for Australians can attract intense criticism. Alcott holds the role in a sensitive federal election year. Speaking politically can easily be misinterpreted as taking party-political sides.
Dylan Alcott has an authentic voice as a passionate advocate who lives his cause. But, as Grace Tame, Adam Goodes and other Australians of the Year have found, speaking up for Australians can be like picking your way through a minefield. There will always be those who say "Well, s/he doesn't speak for me."
- John Warhurst is an emeritus professor of political science at the Australian National University and a regular columnist.