For all the chaos he’s causing in the Persian Gulf and the global economy, one consolation is that despite all his attempts to contravene the US Constitution, Donald Trump is limited by the 22nd Amendment to two fixed four-year terms in office.
Former Liberal MP David Coleman proposed four-year fixed federal terms in 2016, arguing that they’d offer more certainty to electors and business; more capacity to implement policy, as opposed to short three-year federal parliamentary terms; and increase transparency, rather than leaving the election date to the sole discretion of the prime minister at the time. Every Australian state now has fixed four-year terms.
But what about if, as well as fixed federal terms like the US, we also imposed term limits of two consecutive terms – not just on prime ministers, but all MPs?
There are many talented, dedicated MPs, with some ministers responsible for complicated and important portfolios (as well as some not very well suited to their ministries at all).
And while many MPs will admit – after declaring their loyalty to their leader, of course – that they nurse higher ambitions, most will languish on the backbenches for most, if not all, of their political careers.
Some, like former Liberal MPs Russell Broadbent and Bruce Baird, might be relegated there because they take stands at odds with their party’s position on certain issues which they’d have to support as ministers, as they did over the treatment of refugees – or resign from the frontbench to do so, as Andrew Hastie recently did over immigration.
Others, like Alex Hawke, Michael McCormack, or Ed Husic may have enjoyed ministerial responsibilities in the past, but while they may be hanging on for a more sympathetic leader to return them to cabinet, their ministerial careers are over.
As Hastie, Tony Abbott, Jacinta Price or Barnaby Joyce have proved, being on the backbench doesn’t mean you’re without influence, but what do MPs like Rick Wilson (first elected 2013), Steve Georganas and Karen Rishworth (2004) or Tony Zappia (2007) offer after so long on the backbenches?
In what other job would you be given almost unlimited time not to get promoted or perform meaningfully?
Why should those untalented enough or incapable of achieving anything substantial hang on when many Australians, increasingly disenchanted by the major party duopoly, are raring to have a go too?
Before the 2010 election, economist and commentator Jessica Irvine did a survey of the first and then-current parliaments, revealing that only a third of our first federal MPs were lawyers or politicians, with the rest labourers, journalists, farmers, a clergyman, a doctor, a tinsmith, a carpenter, a butcher, a market gardener, and two hatmakers.
Now, over 97 per cent of MPs are from the law, business, or politics itself, having campaigned as student politicians and worked as staffers or union delegates before becoming MPs, even though less than half of the rest of us have.
And that’s before the perception that a parliamentary career is simply an audition for a cushy lobbying job or political appointment, often bestowed on politicians such as former Mayo MP Jamie Briggs or NSW premier Gladys Berejiklian, who have left politics in disgrace.
How can a ‘people’s house’ be so unrepresentative of the very people it purports to represent? It perhaps explains why, in the echo chamber of Canberra, politicians and the press gallery can be so out of touch with the reality the rest of us face.
And it also perhaps explains why ‘ordinary’ candidates like Jacqui Lambie or even multimillionaire billionaire’s buddy Pauline Hanson appeal to an electorate looking for plain speaking, not sound bites; for authenticity, not political spin and focus groupthink; and – jaunts on billionaires’ private jets aside – for real, ordinary people like us, not professional politicians.
And although Lambie has had her moments of madness, such as calling for burqa bans, she’s been a much more vocal representative of her constituents and their concerns than grandstanders like Hanson. New Nationals leader Matt Canavan – himself fond of gimmicky stunts – rightly pointed out in all her three decades in politics Hanson has never delivered a single dam, road or hospital to her constituents.
If there were two-term limits, it might ensure that more of us might get an opportunity to represent our communities, rather than the closed shop duopoly of ‘Laboral’ politics. It would clear out those only there because of their machinations or connections, and continually refresh politics with new ideas and fresh perspectives beyond the stasis of the current do-nothing, rent-seeking, wedge-driving, point-scoring that passes for political discourse these days.
But what about capable ministers and leaders like Tanya Plibersek, Julian Leeser, Jim Chalmers or Darren Chester? Or popular and competent independents like Andrew Wilkie, Allegra Spender or David Pocock?
What would two-term limits mean for such talented and experienced people? Well, if it was based on two consecutive terms, it might give them an opportunity to spend all that time with their families many resigning pollies say they crave, as well as a spell in the real world with the rest of us, learning what it’s like outside the goldfish bowl of politics.
But surely two-term limits would result in a churn of candidates, and result in a lowering of quality? In comparison to whom?
David Littleproud? Ralph Babet? Malcolm Roberts? If a week’s a long time in politics, then two, three, or four-year terms are an eternity.
Although the terminally cautious Albo might be wary of proposing another referendum on the issue after his disastrous handling of the Voice, the last successful referendum in 1977 proposed four reforms, including simultaneous House and Senate elections and the enforced retirement of judges once they turned 70.
Unlike the Voice referendum, how many electors would oppose limiting MPs’ time at the taxpayer-funded trough, especially if they weren’t actually delivering real policy or reform, to give more of the rest of us a chance to do so?
But given current politicians’ seemingly ambitionless aim to stay in office without exercising power, to reap the perks and lurks of office, what are the odds they’d give us that chance?
Sunil Badami is a writer, academic and broadcaster. He’s appeared in nearly every major Australian media outlet, and is a regular on ABC Radio and TV.
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