Thus Spake Mungo: Missed chances

Malcolm Turnbull should have called his election months ago.

It is easy to say it in hindsight, but passing up the chance to capitalise on the all but universal wave of relief that greeted his ascension was a seriously missed opportunity.

He had every reason, every excuse: all he had to do was to say that while the party room had passed its judgment, he need a popular mandate from the voters.

And he had his double dissolution triggers ready: the abolition of the Clean Energy Finance Corporation was not an obvious choice, but the establishment of Registered Organisations was a natural: in the absence of the Building and Construction Commission, it was a serious piece of union bashing that could be guaranteed to enrage the ACTU and the ALP.

There was plenty of ammunition; while Dyson Heydon had not yet concluded his findings, there was ample public evidence that could be used to target everyone involved, including Bill Shorten. The Employment Minister, Michaelia Cash, has since said it would do very nicely for a major campaign issue.

But in any case, in this heady atmosphere the issues would be utterly irrelevant. The event would be all about the endorsement – the celebration – of the new super star. Other players would feature as mere extras; Bill Shorten would be lucky to manage a cameo performance as a fall guy.

It would not be entirely flawless — a double dissolution would not necessarily clear out the crossbenchers entirely: that would have to wait until the amending legislation could be finalised and passed ready for next time. But it would certainly weed out some of the current lot of recalcitrants, and, given Turnbull’s then stratospheric popularity, there was even a chance that it could deliver control of the senate to the coalition.

And, best of all, there was a genuine hope that in the excitement of snap election, a dispirited and disconsolate Tony Abbott might be persuaded to retire – perhaps to the cushy jog of High Commissioner to Great Britain. He would still leave behind him a grumpy rump of conservatives, but in the absence of their flag-bearer they could be dismissed as fringe-dwellers.

A glorious fantasy, and what a contrast the muddle through which Turnbull and his disillusioned colleagues will now have to navigate. It is hard to believe that they have been so unprepared; surely someone within the organisation would have pointed out the relevant dates.

For immutable technical reasons the last day a double dissolution could be called was May 11, which was, as everybody knew (or thought they knew) the day after the budget. And it could not be held until the first Saturday in a July, unless the electoral schedule was overturned and yet another half-senate election was planned for 2017 – an occurrence unattractive to the parliament and the public alike.

But then it got worse: to make sure of securing supply the budget would almost certainly have to be brought forward a week, and if that happened, it would be the clearest possible signal of an election on July 2 – two very long months away. The long campaign would be nearly unendurable and close to unaffordable.

But there is now every indication that Turnbull is going to inflict it upon us – not yet, of course, but when he gets around to it. And even before it begins, there is much unhappiness within his own ranks, and indeed across the nation.

Turnbull is seeking to bestride the path of righteous inevitability: the constitution was specifically written to deal with the problem. If there is legislation rejected by the senate twice over a period of three months, the deadlock can be broken by a double dissolution election followed by a joint sitting of both houses of parliament to resolve the impasse.

This is true, but it hardly ever happens: there have been double dissolutions aplenty, but only once has the legislative stalemate been passed at a joint sitting, in 1974 by the government of Gough Whitlam. And Turnbull’s argument for a reprise appears particularly feeble: what he trumpets as the vital need to re-establish the Building and Construction Commission has been knocked back once, but has not yet appeared on the notice paper for a second try.

Apparently it was postponed by a deal with the Greens to reform the senate voting system, a far more urgent priority required to eradicate the crossbenchers in time for, you guessed it, a double dissolution. Presumably the ABCC bill will be re-introduced when the senate sits again, and since the only real opportunity for a vote will be if the parliament is brought back on May 3, the early budget, and the early election, becomes a fait accompli.

Turnbull assures us that this is not a matter of political tactics: it is a political and constitutional necessity, driven by the purest possible motives. But no-one, not even his closest allies, believes him. The cynicism is reinforced by his ministers, who keep parroting that they are all working to a budget on May 10, but all are leaving themselves loopholes and get out clauses: well, the budget will definitely be in May and the election will be in the second half of the year – and really, July isn’t all that much earlier than September, is it?

Turnbull has every reason to dash to the polls: things are not going well and could get worse. The budget and the election will at the very least supply a circuit breaker and perhaps even a fresh start to what has been a hugely disappointing resurrection. But in the process he has appeared indecisive, mean and tricky and whatever the campaign will be meant to be about – curbing the unions, saving the country from Shorten’s reckless agenda, selling what will have to be a pretty wishy-washy budget – the interminable campaign will include mistakes, setbacks and pitfalls.

It will certainly not be the triumphal march that it was meant to be. The government is likely to be returned – first governments almost always are, and although Labor has become competitive, the late resurgence is unlikely to be enough. Turnbull will be vindicated, after a fashion, but he will be even more chastened, and probably even more cautious, than before. How different, how much better, it could have been.