Extract from The Guardian
The PM is clearly punting that Trump will turn out to be Ronald
Reagan lite rather than a deranged despot. But cosying up to the US
president-elect is a big, bold calculation and the stakes could not be
higher for Australia
“I suppose as both being businessmen who found our way into politics,
somewhat later in life, we come to the problems of our own nations and,
indeed, world problems with a pragmatic approach,” Turnbull told
reporters in his courtyard shortly after the call.
“Mr Trump is a deal-maker. He is a businessman, a deal-maker and he will, I have no doubt, view the world in a very practical and pragmatic way.”
As is often the way in politics, Turnbull in recounting his rapport strategy, was pretending to talk about Trump, while talking about himself.
Enough about him, more about me. Practical and pragmatic. You can write that down, people.
But setting aside the default egoism that prime ministers tend to possess in abundance, the business metaphor is worth pursuing.
The concept I want to get to here is entrepreneurialism and risk.
Trump’s presidency is a punt, both for the candidate, and the world; a throw of the dice, a genuine innovation, which may or may not yield a benefit.
His ascendancy has, quite literally, set the world on its ear.
The German chancellor, Angela Merkel, has deftly redefined the terms of her country’s engagement with Washington, which we can summarise as Berlin doesn’t have a problem with you, Donald, just so long as you don’t believe, or seek to implement, the craven nativist nonsense you’ve just spouted for the last 18 months.
The Japanese prime minister, Shinzo Abe, for his part has cantered post-haste to New York to test out the seriousness of Trump’s various campaign pronouncements about making allies in the Asia-Pacific pay more for help from US forces.
And for Turnbull, the initial rush has been to normalise Trump. No equivocation, no side-of-the-mouth asides.
The Australian prime minister, without skipping a beat, has welcomed the new president’s might-is-right approach in the Asia-Pacific, which, according to the advance publicity, involves a substantial US naval deployment to face off against Chinese assertiveness.
You don’t have to think too hard to fathom the potential risks associated with an aggressive regional US military posture, particularly in tandem with the trade war Trump has threatened to bring on by slapping large tariffs on Chinese products entering the US. It really doesn’t require too much imagination.
Thinking about the worst-case scenarios could, in fact, produce an involuntary shudder. But Turnbull didn’t miss a beat.
“A stronger United States means a safer world,” the prime minister said in reply to a question about whether he was concerned about the proposed military buildup.
All the way with The Donald.
No public distancing, whatsoever.
Turnbull these days is a constrained figure. He governs by consent of conservative enemies. His leash is short, and he knows it. But periodically he acts out.
He’s acted out recently by signing the Paris climate agreement. (Stick that up your jumper George Christensen.) He’s also acted out against the default extremism that resides in some quarters of the government by trying to extract some of the wretched souls out of Manus Island and Nauru. Turnbull has pulled this off while sheltering behind the po-faced obduracy of Peter Dutton – who is like a human shield between the prime minister and the night-time mutterings of Andrew Bolt – who pines for Tony Abbott in his small broadcast cupboard on Sky News.
This long punt on Trump also feels like pure Turnbull.
Mr Harbourside Mansion, as he was cruelly dubbed by Peta Credlin during the winter campaign, is, intrinsically, a risk/reward player. As the entrepreneurs say, big risk, big reward. Turnbull is, as my longtime parliamentary press gallery colleague Michelle Grattan puts it periodically, a venture capitalist of politics.
Turnbull is clearly punting that Trump will turn out to be Ronald Reagan, or perhaps Ronald Reagan lite, rather than a deranged despot.
It’s both a gut play, and a strategic calculation that Australia’s interests are best served if the plucky middle power can clamber inside the new Trump tower now being constructed, appointment by appointment, in shell-shocked Washington.
The rationale goes if we are on the inside track, we can perhaps influence some of the decision-making.
Turnbull will think aggressive rhetorical simplicity in public won’t mitigate against nuance uttered in private rooms, and won’t mitigate against Australia taking out its own insurance in the event things go to poop.
He will see it like this: if modest public fandom is the price of entry to the new world order, then so be it.
The other interesting development rounding out phase one of the Turnbull government adjusting to the new Washington involved a trade pivot.
While Turnbull was out with his loud hailer affirming the marvellously opportune rise of Trumpism in the Pacific, the trade minister was clambering more quietly in the direction of China on trade.
Australia this week dumped its previous energetic proselytising about the Trans-Pacific Partnership and latched on to the Free Trade Area of the Asia-Pacific – the Beijing-backed proposal. This quickstep is either a prelude to trying to draw the US into a new regional trade agreement Trump hasn’t campaigned against – or a bit of low-key regional bet hedging on economic diplomacy.
So having charted out our various compass points, let’s draw together the sum of the parts.
On the trade liberalisation front, Australia has no real choice but to look to plan B. The TPP seems, as Tony Abbott would term it, dead, buried and cremated. To safeguard future prosperity, we need an option B, and we need to be on the ground floor of regional reconsideration of what plan B is.
Being friendly to Trump helps Turnbull with the constant nightmare of the Coalition’s internals. If the task is keeping conservatives sated enough to prevent open insurrection, being sanguine about the Trumpocalypse is another bone to throw to MPs currently basking in the triumph of vindication – the folks who have welcomed the new global political age of unreason as the left’s just deserts.
On Turnbull’s big, bold calculation: that Trump is Reagan, not a lunatic intent on occupying the White House in order to act out some Nietzschean ubermensch fantasy – it’s a big, risky call.
Trump over the last 18 months has shown the world he can do or say anything, and not suffer any adverse consequences. The president-elect will be flush with that singular achievement, which literally rewrites the rules of democratic politics. Trump’s zero-sum world view has also been remarkably consistent over his lengthy public life.
And as the Economist pointed out in an excellent piece this week, there is a key difference between Reagan and Trump as presidential figures.
Reagan’s America looked outwards, while Trump has vowed to put America first: “Reagan’s America was optimistic: Mr Trump’s is angry.”
Turnbull’s self-avowed venture capitalist political philosophy is try something – whatever you do, don’t die wondering. If it doesn’t work out, no matter, move on to the next thing. This instinct – never mind the steadiness, never mind the values, let’s see where this new adventure takes us – has led Turnbull into trouble more than once.
Turnbull might well be proven right. This guy may be all piss and wind, someone to be indulged before the American people turn on him viciously for failing to deliver an agenda that looks, from this distance, manifestly impossible to deliver.
But he also may be a deeply dangerous president, fully capable of wedging Australia uncomfortably between his own cynically nationalist fervour and China’s nationalist fervour – which is a game of chicken no one wants to be in the middle of.
Defining the terms of our relationship with Washington now looms as a major test of Malcolm Turnbull – his diplomatic dexterity, his political skills, his judgment on the fly.
This is not a parlour game.
It is some serious geopolitical brinksmanship.
The stakes could not be higher, and Australia may yet regret how the story ends.
“Mr Trump is a deal-maker. He is a businessman, a deal-maker and he will, I have no doubt, view the world in a very practical and pragmatic way.”
As is often the way in politics, Turnbull in recounting his rapport strategy, was pretending to talk about Trump, while talking about himself.
Enough about him, more about me. Practical and pragmatic. You can write that down, people.
But setting aside the default egoism that prime ministers tend to possess in abundance, the business metaphor is worth pursuing.
The concept I want to get to here is entrepreneurialism and risk.
Trump’s presidency is a punt, both for the candidate, and the world; a throw of the dice, a genuine innovation, which may or may not yield a benefit.
His ascendancy has, quite literally, set the world on its ear.
The German chancellor, Angela Merkel, has deftly redefined the terms of her country’s engagement with Washington, which we can summarise as Berlin doesn’t have a problem with you, Donald, just so long as you don’t believe, or seek to implement, the craven nativist nonsense you’ve just spouted for the last 18 months.
The Japanese prime minister, Shinzo Abe, for his part has cantered post-haste to New York to test out the seriousness of Trump’s various campaign pronouncements about making allies in the Asia-Pacific pay more for help from US forces.
And for Turnbull, the initial rush has been to normalise Trump. No equivocation, no side-of-the-mouth asides.
The Australian prime minister, without skipping a beat, has welcomed the new president’s might-is-right approach in the Asia-Pacific, which, according to the advance publicity, involves a substantial US naval deployment to face off against Chinese assertiveness.
You don’t have to think too hard to fathom the potential risks associated with an aggressive regional US military posture, particularly in tandem with the trade war Trump has threatened to bring on by slapping large tariffs on Chinese products entering the US. It really doesn’t require too much imagination.
Thinking about the worst-case scenarios could, in fact, produce an involuntary shudder. But Turnbull didn’t miss a beat.
“A stronger United States means a safer world,” the prime minister said in reply to a question about whether he was concerned about the proposed military buildup.
All the way with The Donald.
No public distancing, whatsoever.
Turnbull these days is a constrained figure. He governs by consent of conservative enemies. His leash is short, and he knows it. But periodically he acts out.
He’s acted out recently by signing the Paris climate agreement. (Stick that up your jumper George Christensen.) He’s also acted out against the default extremism that resides in some quarters of the government by trying to extract some of the wretched souls out of Manus Island and Nauru. Turnbull has pulled this off while sheltering behind the po-faced obduracy of Peter Dutton – who is like a human shield between the prime minister and the night-time mutterings of Andrew Bolt – who pines for Tony Abbott in his small broadcast cupboard on Sky News.
This long punt on Trump also feels like pure Turnbull.
Mr Harbourside Mansion, as he was cruelly dubbed by Peta Credlin during the winter campaign, is, intrinsically, a risk/reward player. As the entrepreneurs say, big risk, big reward. Turnbull is, as my longtime parliamentary press gallery colleague Michelle Grattan puts it periodically, a venture capitalist of politics.
Turnbull is clearly punting that Trump will turn out to be Ronald Reagan, or perhaps Ronald Reagan lite, rather than a deranged despot.
It’s both a gut play, and a strategic calculation that Australia’s interests are best served if the plucky middle power can clamber inside the new Trump tower now being constructed, appointment by appointment, in shell-shocked Washington.
The rationale goes if we are on the inside track, we can perhaps influence some of the decision-making.
Turnbull will think aggressive rhetorical simplicity in public won’t mitigate against nuance uttered in private rooms, and won’t mitigate against Australia taking out its own insurance in the event things go to poop.
He will see it like this: if modest public fandom is the price of entry to the new world order, then so be it.
The other interesting development rounding out phase one of the Turnbull government adjusting to the new Washington involved a trade pivot.
While Turnbull was out with his loud hailer affirming the marvellously opportune rise of Trumpism in the Pacific, the trade minister was clambering more quietly in the direction of China on trade.
Australia this week dumped its previous energetic proselytising about the Trans-Pacific Partnership and latched on to the Free Trade Area of the Asia-Pacific – the Beijing-backed proposal. This quickstep is either a prelude to trying to draw the US into a new regional trade agreement Trump hasn’t campaigned against – or a bit of low-key regional bet hedging on economic diplomacy.
So having charted out our various compass points, let’s draw together the sum of the parts.
On the trade liberalisation front, Australia has no real choice but to look to plan B. The TPP seems, as Tony Abbott would term it, dead, buried and cremated. To safeguard future prosperity, we need an option B, and we need to be on the ground floor of regional reconsideration of what plan B is.
Being friendly to Trump helps Turnbull with the constant nightmare of the Coalition’s internals. If the task is keeping conservatives sated enough to prevent open insurrection, being sanguine about the Trumpocalypse is another bone to throw to MPs currently basking in the triumph of vindication – the folks who have welcomed the new global political age of unreason as the left’s just deserts.
On Turnbull’s big, bold calculation: that Trump is Reagan, not a lunatic intent on occupying the White House in order to act out some Nietzschean ubermensch fantasy – it’s a big, risky call.
Trump over the last 18 months has shown the world he can do or say anything, and not suffer any adverse consequences. The president-elect will be flush with that singular achievement, which literally rewrites the rules of democratic politics. Trump’s zero-sum world view has also been remarkably consistent over his lengthy public life.
And as the Economist pointed out in an excellent piece this week, there is a key difference between Reagan and Trump as presidential figures.
Reagan’s America looked outwards, while Trump has vowed to put America first: “Reagan’s America was optimistic: Mr Trump’s is angry.”
Turnbull’s self-avowed venture capitalist political philosophy is try something – whatever you do, don’t die wondering. If it doesn’t work out, no matter, move on to the next thing. This instinct – never mind the steadiness, never mind the values, let’s see where this new adventure takes us – has led Turnbull into trouble more than once.
Turnbull might well be proven right. This guy may be all piss and wind, someone to be indulged before the American people turn on him viciously for failing to deliver an agenda that looks, from this distance, manifestly impossible to deliver.
But he also may be a deeply dangerous president, fully capable of wedging Australia uncomfortably between his own cynically nationalist fervour and China’s nationalist fervour – which is a game of chicken no one wants to be in the middle of.
Defining the terms of our relationship with Washington now looms as a major test of Malcolm Turnbull – his diplomatic dexterity, his political skills, his judgment on the fly.
This is not a parlour game.
It is some serious geopolitical brinksmanship.
The stakes could not be higher, and Australia may yet regret how the story ends.
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