God under Howard
God under Howard
May 5th 2005
From The Economist print edition
The prime minister keeps on winning elections because he understands how Australia has changed
Newspix
God loves us
TEN minutes into the service, and several young women are openly weeping. Others are collapsing into their seats, apparently in religious ecstasy. Almost everyone is reaching out with their arms, palm forward, hoping perhaps to touch the face of God, but lending the proceedings an oddly sinister air. Welcome to Hillsong, said to be Australia's fastest-growing church, having risen from a congregation of 45 when it first started in 1983 to more than 15,000 now. Well over 2,000 people pack into its hangar-like hall in an inner suburb of Sydney for just one of five Sunday services, each 90 minutes long. Afterwards they queue to buy recordings of the sermon they have heard in the flesh only minutes earlier. Not one but two collections have been taken.
Hillsong tells people what they want to hear: that God loves them, that they are special, that if they believe they will prosper. Not much is said about loving your neighbour as yourself—or indeed about an austere and unworldly man named Jesus. Pastor Brian Houston, who founded Hillsong, once wrote a book called “You Need More Money”. This is not so much religion but self-help for the would-be affluent. But with its heavy-rock hymns of praise to the bountiful Father, its massed choirs, its dancers and its howling preachers, there is no denying that, on a certain level, it works.
It may be tempting to dismiss Hillsong as an extreme example of “prosperity Christianity” and ignore it, but John Howard and his Liberals certainly haven't. In 2002, when Hillsong opened a new, bigger complex in north-western Sydney, Mr Howard came along to open it. Peter Costello, the treasurer, has spoken at Hillsong's annual conference. In fact, many members of the Howard cabinet are devout Christians (although Mr Howard himself is somewhat ambivalent). In Canberra these days, political prayer breakfasts have become unmissable.
Yet the place hardly seems to be in the grip of the religious right. A couple of miles from the Hillsong church is Oxford Street, with a high concentration of gay bars and clubs: Sydney and San Francisco still vie with each other for the title of the world's gay capital. Those otherwise inclined would not have to walk far to find a number of entirely legal brothels. Australia's evangelical churches may be booming, but the country still embraces staunchly liberal values. Yes, Tony Abbott, the health minister (and a former monk), has been allowed, from time to time, to raise the subject of abortion. But no one seriously believes that the Howard government is going to open that Pandora's box. Yes, Family First, a new party of the right, picked up a Senate seat in last year's election. But the Senate's election rules are so strange that such quirks can happen—and then fizzle out again.
The attention paid to Hillsong is a symptom of something much broader: Mr Howard and his party have understood, and profited from, a big shift in Australian attitudes. When he first came to power, he said he wanted to preside over an Australia that was “relaxed and comfortable”, a remark that was much derided at the time, but has come in a way to define his leadership. After the economic upheavals of the 1980s and early 1990s, Australians now want to turn inwards a little and concentrate on their own families and homes, says Hugh Mackay, a social researcher and journalist. Not for nothing has “Backyard Blitz” been one of the most popular television programmes of recent years, at a time when six of Australia's top ten charities have seen their takings fall.
By 1996, Labor had alienated too many Australian battlers with its obsessions with ending the monarchy, declaring Australia part of Asia and apologising to its Aborigines—none of which are “barbecue stoppers”, as Mr Howard would say. The secret of his success, he insists, is that he listens to people, not least by frequently going on “talk-back” (phone-in) radio. “We've ended the perpetual seminar on our identity,” he claims.
From the suburbs
With four general-election victories under his belt, Mr Howard is probably the most successful serving democratic leader in the world—and most observers reckon he intends to run for a fifth term in 2007. The secret of his success is to be found in the suburbs, the vast sprawling expanses of Australia's five big cities, and most of all in Sydney. It is pre-eminently here, in the Sydney suburbs, that Australian elections are won and lost. And it is here that the Liberals have made deep inroads into what was once solid Labor territory.
Liberal politics, reckons one pundit, is about ignoring the people who are never going to vote for you, ignoring the people who are always going to vote for you and concentrating on those in the middle. In the run-up to last October's election, the government targeted the kind of lower-middle-class young families who live in the Sydney suburbs. It announced huge give-aways for families and tax breaks for middle-income earners. In all, it promised an extra A$66 billion ($51 billion) over four years. It seemed to work.
Increasingly, the suburbs are places not of deprivation, but of aspiration. Take Campbelltown, a district in south-west Sydney that falls partly within the national constituency of Werriwa, the seat once held by Gough Whitlam, Labor's 1970s prime minister, and more recently by Mark Latham, who led Labor to catastrophic defeat in last October's general election. The Liberal Party hardly bothers to campaign here: at the Werriwa by-election in March, held to replace Mr Latham, who quit Parliament, it did not even field a candidate.
Even so, on the Campbelltown council Labor cannot muster a majority. Campbelltown's Labor mayor, Brenton Banfield, is honest enough to acknowledge that Mr Howard makes a good job of coming across as “an average bloke”, the sort that understands the suburbs. He is right, because that is where the prime minister comes from. He is the son of a garage owner from the Sydney suburbs, whereas his opponent, Kim Beazley, is the son of a Perth MP and minister.
And although Campbelltown has its pockets of high unemployment—you even see the odd graffito in Glenquarry Estate—most of it looks prosperous, and is becoming more so. Its green hills are alive with the sound of building, and its ritzier areas, such as Denham Court, are the site of amazing mansions built by local people who have made good. Will such people go on voting Labor? Perhaps not.
It is often said that Mr Howard keeps on winning elections because of the economy, stupid. But it isn't quite that simple. Of course a 14-year boom helps, but voters seem to realise full well that the groundwork was laid by Labor's reforms. Labor now has to do more than just convince voters that it can handle the economy as well as the Liberals; it needs to convince ordinary middle-class people that it understands their concerns. The trouble is that too many of Labor's leaders are creatures of the trade unions: at worst, apparatchiks such as Simon Crean, a former leader of both the trade-union movement and of the Labor party and now shadow trade minister; at best dependent on union money and votes. Yet only 23% of the workforce are unionised.
The enduring power of the unions was neatly demonstrated in January, when Labor had to choose a new leader following the resignation of Mark Latham, who had led them to defeat in last October's election. The man they should have chosen was Kevin Rudd, by far the brightest talent on the Labor front bench. But Mr Rudd is a former diplomat, not a union man. Insiders say that he was in with a chance until the Queensland unions more or less ordered their MPs not to support him, handing victory to Kim Beazley, the veteran former leader whom Mr Howard has defeated twice before.
That said, the present opposition front bench looks a good deal less union-dominated than in the past, and now boasts some impressive talent, including Mr Rudd, Wayne Swan, the shadow treasurer, and Stephen Smith, the shadow minister for industry.
Another factor against Labor is Australia's federal system. The state governments spend the money that touches people's everyday lives: on local roads, on schools, on doctors' surgeries (though not on universities). Federal government spending goes on things that seem more remote, such as defence and foreign policy, as well as macro-economic management.
Bill Bowtell, a political consultant, borrows a line from an American columnist, Maureen Dowd, to describe state governments as the natural province of “Mummy” parties—sympathetic and happiest when doling out wads of cash—whereas the federal government is best suited to “Daddy” parties: stern, moralistic, taking tough and unpopular decisions. That is why, he reckons, the Liberal-led coalition has been in power in Canberra for 34 of the past 50 years, against Labor's 16, and why Labor controls every one of Australia's state governments.
There is, though, a little hope for the opposition. Labor has at least started to understand that it cannot afford to cede the economy entirely to the Liberals. Mr Swan, the new shadow treasurer, has been banging away at the government for not investing enough, to some effect.
Mr Beazley has a fine line in indignation when he savages the government for squandering Labor's legacy by failing to invest and using its surpluses for questionable projects in marginal constituencies. But too often, Labor still talks in terms of insiders and outsiders. The problem is that most Australians now consider themselves neither; they simply feel classless and successful. Perhaps Australia has just become more selfish. If so, that is both parties' doing; but Mr Howard's has been much better at exploiting it.
May 5th 2005
From The Economist print edition
The prime minister keeps on winning elections because he understands how Australia has changed
Newspix
God loves us
TEN minutes into the service, and several young women are openly weeping. Others are collapsing into their seats, apparently in religious ecstasy. Almost everyone is reaching out with their arms, palm forward, hoping perhaps to touch the face of God, but lending the proceedings an oddly sinister air. Welcome to Hillsong, said to be Australia's fastest-growing church, having risen from a congregation of 45 when it first started in 1983 to more than 15,000 now. Well over 2,000 people pack into its hangar-like hall in an inner suburb of Sydney for just one of five Sunday services, each 90 minutes long. Afterwards they queue to buy recordings of the sermon they have heard in the flesh only minutes earlier. Not one but two collections have been taken.
Hillsong tells people what they want to hear: that God loves them, that they are special, that if they believe they will prosper. Not much is said about loving your neighbour as yourself—or indeed about an austere and unworldly man named Jesus. Pastor Brian Houston, who founded Hillsong, once wrote a book called “You Need More Money”. This is not so much religion but self-help for the would-be affluent. But with its heavy-rock hymns of praise to the bountiful Father, its massed choirs, its dancers and its howling preachers, there is no denying that, on a certain level, it works.
It may be tempting to dismiss Hillsong as an extreme example of “prosperity Christianity” and ignore it, but John Howard and his Liberals certainly haven't. In 2002, when Hillsong opened a new, bigger complex in north-western Sydney, Mr Howard came along to open it. Peter Costello, the treasurer, has spoken at Hillsong's annual conference. In fact, many members of the Howard cabinet are devout Christians (although Mr Howard himself is somewhat ambivalent). In Canberra these days, political prayer breakfasts have become unmissable.
Yet the place hardly seems to be in the grip of the religious right. A couple of miles from the Hillsong church is Oxford Street, with a high concentration of gay bars and clubs: Sydney and San Francisco still vie with each other for the title of the world's gay capital. Those otherwise inclined would not have to walk far to find a number of entirely legal brothels. Australia's evangelical churches may be booming, but the country still embraces staunchly liberal values. Yes, Tony Abbott, the health minister (and a former monk), has been allowed, from time to time, to raise the subject of abortion. But no one seriously believes that the Howard government is going to open that Pandora's box. Yes, Family First, a new party of the right, picked up a Senate seat in last year's election. But the Senate's election rules are so strange that such quirks can happen—and then fizzle out again.
The attention paid to Hillsong is a symptom of something much broader: Mr Howard and his party have understood, and profited from, a big shift in Australian attitudes. When he first came to power, he said he wanted to preside over an Australia that was “relaxed and comfortable”, a remark that was much derided at the time, but has come in a way to define his leadership. After the economic upheavals of the 1980s and early 1990s, Australians now want to turn inwards a little and concentrate on their own families and homes, says Hugh Mackay, a social researcher and journalist. Not for nothing has “Backyard Blitz” been one of the most popular television programmes of recent years, at a time when six of Australia's top ten charities have seen their takings fall.
By 1996, Labor had alienated too many Australian battlers with its obsessions with ending the monarchy, declaring Australia part of Asia and apologising to its Aborigines—none of which are “barbecue stoppers”, as Mr Howard would say. The secret of his success, he insists, is that he listens to people, not least by frequently going on “talk-back” (phone-in) radio. “We've ended the perpetual seminar on our identity,” he claims.
From the suburbs
With four general-election victories under his belt, Mr Howard is probably the most successful serving democratic leader in the world—and most observers reckon he intends to run for a fifth term in 2007. The secret of his success is to be found in the suburbs, the vast sprawling expanses of Australia's five big cities, and most of all in Sydney. It is pre-eminently here, in the Sydney suburbs, that Australian elections are won and lost. And it is here that the Liberals have made deep inroads into what was once solid Labor territory.
Liberal politics, reckons one pundit, is about ignoring the people who are never going to vote for you, ignoring the people who are always going to vote for you and concentrating on those in the middle. In the run-up to last October's election, the government targeted the kind of lower-middle-class young families who live in the Sydney suburbs. It announced huge give-aways for families and tax breaks for middle-income earners. In all, it promised an extra A$66 billion ($51 billion) over four years. It seemed to work.
Increasingly, the suburbs are places not of deprivation, but of aspiration. Take Campbelltown, a district in south-west Sydney that falls partly within the national constituency of Werriwa, the seat once held by Gough Whitlam, Labor's 1970s prime minister, and more recently by Mark Latham, who led Labor to catastrophic defeat in last October's general election. The Liberal Party hardly bothers to campaign here: at the Werriwa by-election in March, held to replace Mr Latham, who quit Parliament, it did not even field a candidate.
Even so, on the Campbelltown council Labor cannot muster a majority. Campbelltown's Labor mayor, Brenton Banfield, is honest enough to acknowledge that Mr Howard makes a good job of coming across as “an average bloke”, the sort that understands the suburbs. He is right, because that is where the prime minister comes from. He is the son of a garage owner from the Sydney suburbs, whereas his opponent, Kim Beazley, is the son of a Perth MP and minister.
And although Campbelltown has its pockets of high unemployment—you even see the odd graffito in Glenquarry Estate—most of it looks prosperous, and is becoming more so. Its green hills are alive with the sound of building, and its ritzier areas, such as Denham Court, are the site of amazing mansions built by local people who have made good. Will such people go on voting Labor? Perhaps not.
It is often said that Mr Howard keeps on winning elections because of the economy, stupid. But it isn't quite that simple. Of course a 14-year boom helps, but voters seem to realise full well that the groundwork was laid by Labor's reforms. Labor now has to do more than just convince voters that it can handle the economy as well as the Liberals; it needs to convince ordinary middle-class people that it understands their concerns. The trouble is that too many of Labor's leaders are creatures of the trade unions: at worst, apparatchiks such as Simon Crean, a former leader of both the trade-union movement and of the Labor party and now shadow trade minister; at best dependent on union money and votes. Yet only 23% of the workforce are unionised.
The enduring power of the unions was neatly demonstrated in January, when Labor had to choose a new leader following the resignation of Mark Latham, who had led them to defeat in last October's election. The man they should have chosen was Kevin Rudd, by far the brightest talent on the Labor front bench. But Mr Rudd is a former diplomat, not a union man. Insiders say that he was in with a chance until the Queensland unions more or less ordered their MPs not to support him, handing victory to Kim Beazley, the veteran former leader whom Mr Howard has defeated twice before.
That said, the present opposition front bench looks a good deal less union-dominated than in the past, and now boasts some impressive talent, including Mr Rudd, Wayne Swan, the shadow treasurer, and Stephen Smith, the shadow minister for industry.
Another factor against Labor is Australia's federal system. The state governments spend the money that touches people's everyday lives: on local roads, on schools, on doctors' surgeries (though not on universities). Federal government spending goes on things that seem more remote, such as defence and foreign policy, as well as macro-economic management.
Bill Bowtell, a political consultant, borrows a line from an American columnist, Maureen Dowd, to describe state governments as the natural province of “Mummy” parties—sympathetic and happiest when doling out wads of cash—whereas the federal government is best suited to “Daddy” parties: stern, moralistic, taking tough and unpopular decisions. That is why, he reckons, the Liberal-led coalition has been in power in Canberra for 34 of the past 50 years, against Labor's 16, and why Labor controls every one of Australia's state governments.
There is, though, a little hope for the opposition. Labor has at least started to understand that it cannot afford to cede the economy entirely to the Liberals. Mr Swan, the new shadow treasurer, has been banging away at the government for not investing enough, to some effect.
Mr Beazley has a fine line in indignation when he savages the government for squandering Labor's legacy by failing to invest and using its surpluses for questionable projects in marginal constituencies. But too often, Labor still talks in terms of insiders and outsiders. The problem is that most Australians now consider themselves neither; they simply feel classless and successful. Perhaps Australia has just become more selfish. If so, that is both parties' doing; but Mr Howard's has been much better at exploiting it.
posted by Marco Parigi at 9:42 PM
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