I remember seeing footage, several years ago, of a jubilant Malcolm Turnbull, then prime minister and Liberal leader, speaking in Tamworth to loyal members of the National Party. These were the rank and file who had spent weeks stumping for their man in New England, Nationals leader and deputy prime minister Barnaby Joyce, who had resubmitted himself to voters after discovering he was a dual citizen of Australia and New Zealand.
A lot was riding on the outcome. Turnbull’s government had the slimmest possible majority in the lower house, and the loss of the Nationals leader would have been bad for the government as well as morale. Consequently, Turnbull was overjoyed when he thanked voters in New England “for getting the band back together”. Joyce’s handsome victory was, he explained, a “great demonstration” of the “strength of our Coalition”.
While it may seem unfair to bands everywhere to lean too heavily on that metaphor, there is something to it. Like The Beatles, the Liberal and National parties have allowed their creative tension to become little more than just tension. Like Simon and Garfunkel, deep-seated resentments have been allowed to fester without resolution for too long. And now, like Fleetwood Mac, the two parties have chosen to go their own way, at least for a time.
