Tony
Abbott has been a small hurricane, building up steam. He’s been
everywhere for the best part of a fortnight, looking to take every
opportunity to wrong foot Malcolm Turnbull.
But on Thursday he got some shock and awe in return.
A clearly furious Abbott had to endure Peter Dutton (which really would have stung, given Dutton’s position as the most significant conservative in the parliament), then a more shambolic Michael Keenan, and then Malcolm Turnbull himself, turning the tables in a high-stakes question time.
The former prime minister had to watch himself, as Bill Shorten put it without any mercy, being “thrown under the bus”, back in the cheap seats – which if you are Tony Abbott, would feel like some kind of ignominy, his own little Gethsemane, mid-afternoon on Thursday.
Abbott has been playing a game of chicken with the current occupant of the Lodge over party reform in New South Wales, which will come to a head this Saturday, when the state’s Liberal council meets.
Not content with that particular parlour game, Abbott added guns to the mix this parliamentary week, engaging in some high-visibility contrast with Turnbull, who was trying to say as little as possible about the issue given he had a nasty split inside his own ranks about whether or not to lift an import ban on a Adler shotgun, and a bunch of brawling state governments.
Given Turnbull’s only path through the complexities, in his own mind, was to say nothing particularly definitive and play all sides of the street – which may well have been necessary, but wasn’t a brilliant look – Abbott thought he might keep it simple.
Abbott thought banning the Adler was how any responsible government should go, and he thought it at various times calculated to inflict maximum damage on Turnbull – which as internal bastardry goes, is pretty provocative and potentially lethal.
But things got sticky when the Liberal Democratic party senator David Leyonhjelm produced evidence that the Abbott government (through two cabinet ministers) had struck a deal where the crossbencher would vote for some non-related legislation and, in return, the government would put a sunset clause on banning the Adler.
The correspondence made the transaction all pretty clear. Guns for votes, Labor thundered in the chamber, not quite believing its luck.
And the facts stranded Abbott, particularly after he doubled down, saying his office had known nothing about that arm twisting and bargaining in the Senate – which would be unusual to say the least, given that the main complaint about the Abbott office is that nothing got done without Peta Credlin’s approval.
In Abbott’s mind, the sunset clause was a temporary sop to the Nationals, who want to import the guns, not a sop to Leyonhjelm – which was probably true, or at least true enough, but saying it out loud did hang Dutton and Keenan out to dry.
Saying it out loud meant that Dutton and Keenan had hoodwinked a critical crossbencher, which is an intolerable position to find yourself in if you are cabinet ministers who need to work with the Senate crossbenchers to achieve the government’s agenda.
So Tony got a taste of his own medicine in an extraordinary question time, where the Coalition indulged its own civil war on the floor of the House of Representatives. Tony was the recipient of a triple smackdown.
It’s something of a turning point for Turnbull, who has been scrupulous about avoiding confrontation with Abbott or the conservatives who have been percolating around him, ever so quietly.
Turnbull has found his mongrel.
He has found his fight.
Whether he can translate it to the greater good remains to be see
But on Thursday he got some shock and awe in return.
A clearly furious Abbott had to endure Peter Dutton (which really would have stung, given Dutton’s position as the most significant conservative in the parliament), then a more shambolic Michael Keenan, and then Malcolm Turnbull himself, turning the tables in a high-stakes question time.
The former prime minister had to watch himself, as Bill Shorten put it without any mercy, being “thrown under the bus”, back in the cheap seats – which if you are Tony Abbott, would feel like some kind of ignominy, his own little Gethsemane, mid-afternoon on Thursday.
Abbott has been playing a game of chicken with the current occupant of the Lodge over party reform in New South Wales, which will come to a head this Saturday, when the state’s Liberal council meets.
Not content with that particular parlour game, Abbott added guns to the mix this parliamentary week, engaging in some high-visibility contrast with Turnbull, who was trying to say as little as possible about the issue given he had a nasty split inside his own ranks about whether or not to lift an import ban on a Adler shotgun, and a bunch of brawling state governments.
Given Turnbull’s only path through the complexities, in his own mind, was to say nothing particularly definitive and play all sides of the street – which may well have been necessary, but wasn’t a brilliant look – Abbott thought he might keep it simple.
Abbott thought banning the Adler was how any responsible government should go, and he thought it at various times calculated to inflict maximum damage on Turnbull – which as internal bastardry goes, is pretty provocative and potentially lethal.
But things got sticky when the Liberal Democratic party senator David Leyonhjelm produced evidence that the Abbott government (through two cabinet ministers) had struck a deal where the crossbencher would vote for some non-related legislation and, in return, the government would put a sunset clause on banning the Adler.
The correspondence made the transaction all pretty clear. Guns for votes, Labor thundered in the chamber, not quite believing its luck.
And the facts stranded Abbott, particularly after he doubled down, saying his office had known nothing about that arm twisting and bargaining in the Senate – which would be unusual to say the least, given that the main complaint about the Abbott office is that nothing got done without Peta Credlin’s approval.
In Abbott’s mind, the sunset clause was a temporary sop to the Nationals, who want to import the guns, not a sop to Leyonhjelm – which was probably true, or at least true enough, but saying it out loud did hang Dutton and Keenan out to dry.
Saying it out loud meant that Dutton and Keenan had hoodwinked a critical crossbencher, which is an intolerable position to find yourself in if you are cabinet ministers who need to work with the Senate crossbenchers to achieve the government’s agenda.
So Tony got a taste of his own medicine in an extraordinary question time, where the Coalition indulged its own civil war on the floor of the House of Representatives. Tony was the recipient of a triple smackdown.
It’s something of a turning point for Turnbull, who has been scrupulous about avoiding confrontation with Abbott or the conservatives who have been percolating around him, ever so quietly.
Turnbull has found his mongrel.
He has found his fight.
Whether he can translate it to the greater good remains to be see
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