Tragedies reveal a lot. They reveal the best and the worst of us. The Sandy Hook School shooting is no exception. It provides us with glimpses of murderous insanity, tear-bringing heroism and, unfortunately, the deranged fearfulness of those who hold the right to bear arms above the rights of children. Events like this shine a light on the full-range of human expression; going beyond the dramatic to also expose the dull, cultivated greyness of much political speech. For Australians, the Sandy Hook tragedy has again reminded us that there’s something not quite right with our Julia.
I remember once being in the audience to a speech by a member of the Canberra press gallery. At the end of the presentation, an earnest, bearded man stood and asked the journalist, “Why do you think Julia Gillard fails to connect with the Australian people?” He wasn’t asking why Labor’s policy platform was not engaging the imagination of the electorate or even whether Gillard was a competent politician. His inquiry was focussed on Julia the person. With unpausing wit, the journalist replied, “In person, Julia Gillard is a warm and engaging person. But, put a microphone in front of her and she talks to you like you have a learning disability.” It’s a great line and it brought the house down, because every single person in that room – regardless of their political affiliation – knew exactly what this journalist meant. Over media-trained and over scripted, he concluded. Poorly scripted too, I would add. But it is more than a technical-delivery issue, it speaks to a larger absence: the absence of a person behind the title and position. In human terms, the lights are on but nobody’s home. In the crucible of tragedy, this is made painfully stark.
Gillard’s statement with regard to the Sandy Hook massacre reads:
“Today we stand by the people of America on their day of loss and grief. Today is a truly shocking day for Americans. Twenty children have died; a number of adults have died. This is a day that is breaking America’s heart and has brought the American President to tears.
As Prime Minister I get to visit a lot of primary schools, and they’re places of hope and joy and excitement, young kids going about their day, learning, being with their mates. It is almost beyond comprehension such a happy place could be reduced to a place of death and terror, but that is what we have seen today. Our heartfelt sympathies go to those families who have lost a child, to those families who have lost a loved one, to those families who are now trying to counsel their young child who has been witness to such shocking scenes and will be so distressed as a result.
Alongside the loss of children, we’ve seen the loss of some very brave teachers. It’s a time to remind ourselves just how precious a thing it is that so many people devote their lives to the care of children and even in the most extreme circumstances think about the children in their care first. They are some very brave Americans, and we know we are home too to some very great teachers.
This is a very difficult day. It’s a day on which Australians will be thinking of our friends in America and sharing their grief and their sense of loss.”
Even putting aside its delivery, let’s consider the language used in this statement. It’s a language of self-imposed autism – a superficial mimicry of humanity. Rather than show us a real and personal emotional response, Gillard spends her opening lines distancing herself from the tragedy. This is clearly something that has happened to, and is only affecting, other people on the other side of the world: “Today is a truly shocking day for Americans”. In adopting this opening position, Gillard not only loses the opportunity to make herself human, but she actually disconnects herself from many, many Australians. Just about every parent in Australia does not see Sandy Hook as a tragedy happening to other people. This is an act of violence against all children everywhere. I can assure you, Gillard, every feeling parent in this country was holding their children tighter that night. The only thing that dried the tears in our eyes was the disbelief and exasperation at the empty words of our PM. Words that reinforced that she doesn’t get us. She is not one of us. In fact, Gillard describes herself as a visitor in our world, “As Prime Minister, I get to visit a lot of primary schools.” Thanks for stopping by.
So bereft of emotion is Gillard that she has to steal sentiment from Barack Obama. Rather than try to engage us with an emotion of her own, she seeks to connect with us by stealing Obama’s words and his tears: “This is a day that is breaking America’s heart and has brought the American President to tears”. Emotion by facsimile and association.
But it gets worse.
Gillard does not just fail to connect on any personal level, she includes this bizarre and incongruent comment, “We know we are home too to some very great teachers.” In this context – where we have so clearly been told that this event isn’t about us – these words appear as calculated political pandering, a sickening play to a political base. Again, the message is clear: if Gillard can’t relate to parents and children, at least she can relate to the Unions.
So pale has been Gillard’s performance that the human high-ground has been stolen away in one tweet by former merchant banker, Malcolm Turnbull. When Rupert Murdoch bemoaned, on twitter, about America’s failure to embrace gun control, Turnbull replied astutely: “I suspect they will find the courage when Fox News enthusiastically campaigns for it”. This is a response of emotion and conviction, where the risks of publicly belittling a media mogul where not even brought into the equation. It is the kind of response of which Gillard is incapable. Rather, our PM is left drowning in convoluted sentences and mannequin-like sincerity.
Why is it, then, that we have a PM who is warm in person, but so un-engaging in the media? Is it just poor media training? Certainly, as a start, Gillard needs to sack whichever PR amateur writes her statements. But there’s more to it than that. Politics is a confidence game and, rather than a self-assured leader comfortable in her own skin, we have a lame-duck PM. We have a leader who is tolerated by her own Party and who has been granted not support or faith but only borrowed time. She has no personal mandate or agenda and, because of this, her voice, once human, has been hollowed out by uncertainty and second guesses. Thus, we end up with this faux statesman-like persona that tries desperately to sound every bit the worldly leader, but comes off like a bad impersonator. The lights are on but nobody’s home. With no human anchor, Gillard’s political voice becomes as the vaguely irritating buzzing of a fridge, somewhere in the background of our lives. It does not speak to us and, therefore, it can never speak for us … [fades to static]
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