Another fine example of why American's Love the Aussies.
Elections? Here's How You Do It, Mate
By John Barron
Sunday, December 9, 2007; B01
SYDNEY
From our downunder perspective here in Australia, the United States is all about choice. Everywhere you look, there are so many options. The huge variety of breakfast cereals in the average American supermarket is enough to make me feel like I've just escaped the Soviet Union circa 1958. It's the same with your presidential politics; the spectrum of candidates and political ideologies you have to choose from is positively dazzling.
By contrast, Aussie politicians mostly tend to follow the Henry Ford principle, slightly modified: "Any color you like, as long as it's beige."
We recently had an election here, and the whole thing was like that, pretty beige. We had precisely two candidates, and they were barely distinguishable, except that one headed the Liberal Party (the main conservative group) and the other was the candidate of Labor (founded by the union movement). Our entire federal election campaign lasted exactly six weeks -- a long slog, according to pundits and voters alike. After a month, most people were moaning, "I just want it to be over!"
So you can see why, to us Aussies, your two-year process, from candidate announcements to Inauguration Day, might seem a tad excessive. If not downright, well, absurd.
This past summer in Iowa, I had the chance to size up most of the current crop of U.S. presidential candidates, and I had to wonder how on Earth you're going to choose from this most diverse field ever of would-be presidents. Gadding about the Hawkeye State, I saw Rudy Giuliani and John McCain working the crowd with one-liners, Bill Richardson cornering people in dark alleys at the Iowa State Fairgrounds, and Sens. Chris Dodd and Joe Biden explaining how the six or seven candidates ahead of them in the polls were going to crash and burn just like Howard Dean in 2004.
For reasons nobody could explain to me, your candidates have to prove that they have what it takes to make snap decisions on whether to launch a nuclear first strike by spending a year and a half pretending to enjoy greasy diner food for the cameras in places like Ottumwa. What in the question "You want cream in that coffee, honey?" helps when the chairman of the Joint Chiefs says, "Mr. President, we need to know your answer, now!"
Then there's the Iowa caucus itself. How can you have so much riding on a daffy ritual where someone can turn up at a church hall at 6:30 p.m. on a midwinter's night supporting, say, Bill Richardson, then head off merrily at half past 8 as a delegate for Hillary Clinton? The collective malleability of mind of a hundred thousand Iowans has been making or breaking presidential hopefuls since 1972 and Ed Muskie.
Maybe you're wondering why an Australian would care. Well, the bottom line is that decisions made by your president (or officials he appoints) have a direct effect on how much money is in my pocket; there are millions of Australians paying higher mortgage interest rates right now because of the greater cost of global credit in the wake of the U.S. subprime meltdown. Also, ever since a bloke named MacArthur skipped out of Manila and set up shop in the Northern Australian city of Brisbane to fight the Japanese from a more discreet distance, we've had a foreign policy remarkably similar to yours. We're much obliged to you for saving our skins when Mother England abandoned us to the advancing Japanese army in 1942. And we've shown our thanks by loyally standing alongside American GIs in Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq.
Overall we're pretty happy with the deal. It's a form of insurance; like helping your older brother do his chores, knowing that in return he'll stick up for you in the schoolyard. Should Japan get an army again and a taste for kangaroo meat, we know we can count on you to step in, if for no other reason than to protect some of those intelligence facilities we let you set up here. But here's the thing: If we're going to keep taking out the trash for you in Tikrit and trimming the lawn in Kabul, let's see, in honor of the deep and abiding friendship between our great nations, what we can do to improve your electoral system. I think it's fair to say that if, after two years of campaigning and about a billion dollars in spending, the majority of Americans still decide to stay home on Election Day, then something ain't working.
Here's how we do it in Australia.
You may have heard of John Howard -- until recently, he was our second-longest-serving prime minister. A shortish, balding, bespectacled conservative who looks like Dick Cheney in an indecisive moment, Howard was in office for just over 11 years, 8 1/2 months. On Nov. 24, he was defeated in a landslide by our new prime minister, Labor Party leader Kevin Rudd. Like his predecessor, Rudd is a bespectacled economic conservative, but unlike his predecessor, he vowed to ratify the Kyoto Protocol on climate change and pull Australian troops out of Iraq -- although neither was a major issue in an election that was all about economic management. Kevin Rudd is also 18 years younger than Howard and has slightly more hair (think Dick Cheney with Anderson Cooper's do).
Before he could be seen as a serious contender, all Rudd had to do was to take a short trip to the United States to seek the blessing of the most powerful man in the world. Fortunately, Rupert Murdoch liked him, and Rudd was on his way. His six-week campaign was enlivened by revelations that he had attended a strip club on a boozy night in New York with one of Murdoch's editors. Party officials went into damage control, but no need: Rudd's already high poll numbers actually went up -- "Good onya, Kev!" It may or may not have helped that Murdoch controls 70 percent of Australia's press.
It certainly helped that in Australia, there's no choice when it comes to voting, either; it's compulsory. So rather than be fined $20, about 95 percent of Australians turned out on Election Day. It also helps that our elections are always on a Saturday and the sausage sandwiches served off hot plates set up in the parking lots are pretty tasty. We also have only one kind of ballot for the whole country, instead of leaving the design to state or local governments (Florida, you listening back there?). Because everyone has to vote, there's no need to spend a billion dollars to inflame passions and divide the electorate just so that people will pick a side and care enough to fill in a ballot come November.
Sure, we had our share of annoying election commercials -- about $60 million of taxpayer, party, union and business interest group ads. There was no inspiring or visionary rhetoric, but no Swift Boat Veterans for Truth, either. It was like two slightly dull accountants competing to do your taxes for the next three years.
Dull, sure. But there isn't the same polarizing effect as candidates try to "appeal to the base" and turn out the vote. Interest groups and "voting blocs" have much less influence in Australia than they do in the United States. So much so that in two weeks in Iowa I learned more about the views of each of your presidential candidates on social issues such as abortion and gay marriage than I did from John Howard in nearly 12 years.
And as for what Kevin reckons? Well, it just doesn't matter. If ever an issue such as stem cell research or the "morning-after" contraceptive pill RU-486 should come before parliament, the law is determined by what's called a "conscience vote." All members of parliament are free to vote as their conscience dictates; they aren't bound by the policy of their political party. The prime minister's vote has no greater value than the most junior local member's. And there's no power of veto. Majority rules -- and because we all voted, fair enough, mate.
On the last night of the Iowa State Fair, the kids from "American Idol" came out to perform. It was also the day of the Democratic candidate debate at Drake University. And that's when it hit me: You Americans have turned your elections into a talent quest. It's a reality TV show -- "Presidential Idol"! George Stephanopoulos is Ryan Seacrest!
It all made perfect sense: eight Democratic contestants up there singing crowd-pleasers like "Let's Get Outta Iraq" and the evergreen favorite "Health Care for All." Rep. Dennis Kucinich even took a stab at that old Broadway showstopper "Hooray for Gay Marriage!" And Mike Gravel delighted the crowd with his uncanny impersonation of Grampa Simpson.
And they'll all keep right on going until the folks in Iowa start voting them off the show in January. Then they'll gradually get whittled down by the home viewers, until the grand finale in November when we'll have our winner. But there's always that moment, when you're down to the final two performers with their perfect hair and their perfect teeth, when you kind of miss the one who used to slide off key or dance like your dad.
Compared to this grueling two-year talent quest, our Australian election wasn't so much an election as a trade-in. Which is why, come January, I'll be back in the United States. We may do things smarter, but "Presidential Idol" just makes for a much better show.
barron.john@abc.net.auJohn Barron hosts a daily national news program on the Australian Broadcasting Corp.'s NewsRadio and is working on a documentary film and a book about the U.S. presidential election.
