Why did he do it?
It’s a simple question but the answer is elusive, even to the experts. Scott Morrison says the ministerial powers he assumed were purely theoretical. His ultimate defence is that, except for once, he never used them.
The highly paid political commentator class — their entire professional lives dedicated to explaining federal politics — are by and large left scratching their heads as they attempt to come to terms with this apparent howitzer from the nation’s capital: why did he do it?
One of the more extraordinary features of this saga is that after Morrison’s 15 years in public life — and four as prime minister — we are now scrambling to understand what he is capable of and, by extension, who he really is. How is it that we can still be shocked by a man who goes out of his way to put himself in the public gaze?
In truth, there has never been anything normal about Scott Morrison. The signs have been there all along, from well before he entered Parliament via the 2007 election. His trick has been to bury his weirdness beneath layers of marketing and obfuscation.
And can you believe his luck? Mostly the media hasn’t wanted to go any deeper. It gets worse. Senior political commentators — and certainly most of News Corp — have in effect acted as a Praetorian Guard for Morrison. The evidence has never been good enough for the “Canberra bubble” people. Lies? All politicians do it. Stacking boards with mates? Both parties do it. Secrecy? The punters don’t care.
Whistleblowers emerged in the shape of Concetta Fierravanti-Wells, Julia Banks and Bridget Archer — all with converging stories of Morrison’s political turpitude. Yet their clear warnings about the oddest of oddballs went largely unheeded.
Even at the beginning of this year, as Morrison’s political life was unravelling, he could count on the support of the biggest names in the business. The doyen, Paul Kelly, hailed him for being “bold” on the world stage. Kelly cited Morrison’s “secret effort” to secure the nuclear-powered submarine decision as “a singular example of executive decision-making”, thereby turning Morrison’s greatest flaw into his greatest strength.
Like most scammers, Morrison has used the system which hosts him to his own advantage. Democracy got him into Parliament. Then he trashed it. He used the conventions of government when it suited him and abused them when it didn’t. He took the idea of national security and made it a cover for all pervasive secrecy.
Secrecy. There it is again. The one constant of Morrison’s professional life, before and after entering Parliament.
He was secretive working for Tourism Australia. He was secretive as a 30-year-old hot shot brought over to run New Zealand’s Office of Tourism and Sport. The secrets piled up once he was in government. “On water matters”. Highly paid appointments to government positions made without explanation. FOI nobbled. On and on it goes. We can all recite it in our sleep.
But in the end we are still left to ask: what sort of person sits in a cabinet room with colleagues and deliberately keeps from them that he has appointed himself to their job?
What sort of person can fail to tell a close friend and supporter that he has horned in on his job, as Morrison did with Josh Frydenberg? What sort of person then sits five paces behind the treasurer on budget night knowing, but not telling, that he too secretly holds the office of treasurer?
It’s not normal. But what is it? You could write a PhD trying to pick apart the psychology of Scott Morrison. The events of the past 48 hours have proved that once and for all.
To be the keeper of secrets gives you power over others. FBI director J Edgar Hoover knew that. But Hoover did it to his enemies. It is something else altogether to do it to your friends and allies.
Is there a paternalism about Morrison’s actions? Is Morrison judging that there are things he knows that you don’t need to know?
What joins the dots on Morrison’s character? At Crikey we have made the argument that the answer lies in Morrison’s faith. This is not to be anti-religion or to take the position of smart-arse secular lefties.
Oddly enough, we have seen that Morrison’s intense belief is hard evidence in discerning a pattern of behaviour. For decades there has been an international movement, born in the US, to blur the lines between religion and politics. It is no secret that this exists. Nor is it a secret that Morrison’s closest adviser over the years has been Pastor Brian Houston, a leading proponent of the move for the church to influence politics.
Morrison has been open about it in many ways. He has several times proclaimed his belief that God chose him to be prime minister. In government, he actively worked against secular accountability. He bared his soul at religious gatherings in his times of need and vulnerability. His religious community has lionised him in ways that aren’t well known in the outside world.
He constantly sees signs of God at work in his daily life. He has spoken of comforting the victims of the 2019 fires by using the religious ritual of the laying on of hands. This, he said, was done without their knowledge. Is it a huge next step to secretly lay hands on his ministers’ portfolios?
In Crikey‘s view the simplest explanation for Morrison’s quiet accumulation of ministerial power lies in the doctrine of Christian dominionism: that God’s will shall be spread across the lands. No one, including Morrison, has offered another good explanation. Ultimately it would appear he gathered the power simply to have it, even if he didn’t use it.
The unwritten rules of journalism — where a person’s religion is private — have been a fabulous protection for Morrison. Like the conventions of Parliament he has used these to his own advantage, all the while leaving a trail of evidence in plain sight.
So, sorry to say it, guys, but you’ve been played off a break.
