When the world’s richest man restored Donald Trump to Twitter, God finally intervened.
“Well, I’m out. This is My final tweet,” intoned @TheTweetOfGod – an acerbic handle that regularly passes judgment on humanity’s stupidity – before deactivating their celestial being from Elon Musk’s own act of creative destruction.
On reading this holy edict I disenabled my own Twitter account, plunging myself into a compulsory 31 days of purgatory after which my data footprint, including my thousands of followers and even more political dad jokes, will be permanently erased.
I never thought I’d write these words, but my life has demonstrably improved since I made the decision to follow God. Having survived the Fomo of not being on Twitter, I’m revelling in the pause from the constant stream of hot takes, deep feels and breaking moments that had come to dominate my digital consciousness.
Judging from the final Guardian Essential Report of the year, my newly discovered sense of calm reflects the national mood more broadly: blessed relief that a seeming eternity of cultural wars, climate atrophy and the manic disruption of lockdowns may have stilled.
As 2022 comes to a close, it feels as though we have a moment to breathe away from the algorithms of fear and outrage that have powered our politics every bit as much as they do the platforms that foment and exploit these divisions.
Notwithstanding rising interest rates and fuel prices, the extreme weather events, the war in Ukraine and downright fatigue, Australians say they feel positive about what comes next, with young people in particular feeling upbeat about 2023.
Around the world the angry guys are being muted by their own people: Boris, Trump, Bolsonaro have all been on the wrong side of what remains of the democratic processes they so adroitly undermined.
In Australia, the rule of Scott Morrison, the imperious bulldozer, has given way to a more gentle and collaborative style of leader who is working to build and tap consensus rather than conflict.
Labor won power in May by turning the politics of outrage that Morrison refined back on the master, holding him to account for the innate failings of his operating model.
Morrison squandered his chance to unite the nation around a once-in-a-century pandemic by being too ready to pass the buck and then diverting accountability by creating manic points of political friction.
Since winning power Albanese has adopted a different game plan, seeking to unite by tapping points of connection and working with diverse interests to find a way to move forward.
In the first nine months Labor has delivered its commitments on integrity, climate action and workers’ rights with a marker in all being the breadth of the consensus rather than the body count of the vanquished.
In another table it’s clear voters are liking what they are seeing, with the PM’s high approvals proving remarkably resilient.
A couple of points to note here: Albanese has 41% of Coalition voters supporting his work and, in something I have never seen, a grand total of zero Labor voters strongly disapproving of his work. Labor voters are normally not like this.
To his credit, the opposition leader, Peter Dutton, has not always reverted to knee-jerk outrage and conflict, no doubt moderated by the guardrails of a new movement of activist independents who are demanding meaningful action that transcends the cage fight.
As we look to 2023 and the looming referendum on the Indigenous voice, this will be Dutton’s real test of leadership, one his junior Coalition partner has already abjectly failed.
This week’s Essential Report confirms what we already suspected: a significant majority of Australians have a positive response to the invitation from First Nations leaders so eloquently laid out in the Uluru Statement from the Heart.
The support is particularly strong among younger people, with older Australians more reluctant to embrace the change. Coalition voters are similarly split down the middle.
One thing is certain: the referendum to embed the voice to parliament through constitutional recognition will not be won on Twitter: although it could well be lost if the campaign is curated there.
Already we are seeing the way the war of words builds on itself to buffet a national conversation off-course: Jacinta Price gratuitously brands Linda Burney a Gucci-clad fly-in; Noel Pearson weighs in accusing Price of being an IPA lapdog.
It’s all compelling clickbait that turns a public conversation into another piece of performative conflict but leaves many Australians reluctant to engage.
Well-intentioned but ultimately counterproductive reporters bear breathless witness to each claim and counterclaim while more malign players deliberately whip up the conflict for malign strategic ends.
To secure this historic change, proponents of the voice will need to isolate these bad-faith actors and build connections with the vast majority of Australians who want to be reassured that the voice is neither purely symbolic nor the creation of a new layer of government.
Rather than picking fights, supporters should take the time to bear witness to the myriad ways our First Nations people continue to be let down by well-intentioned programs that have failed to close the gap on health, education and economic outcomes.
We need to be able to understand and explain the exhaustive process Professor Megan Davis led to genuinely co-design representative input with First Nation communities around Australia.
And we need to give our own voice to the opportunity this moment offers, responding to the soaring nation-building oratory of Noel Pearson’s Boyer lecture where he offered Australia the prize of “recognition without repudiation” by transforming our postcolonial constitution into one anchored in 65,000 years of lore.
To walk forward into the future, non-Indigenous Australians will be asked to do the sorts of things we usually struggle with: to listen, to learn and to trust.
In this sense the voice to parliament is not so much a political contest as a test of our national capacity to be part of an act of collective mindfulness. When asked if we will genuinely listen to our First Nations people, can we find a way to simply respond “of course”?
If God has left Twitter, the Buddha never found a home there. It was never a platform to still the noise and free the senses to fully contemplate the moment. There are just no eyeballs to monetise in a void.
But it is in this moment, this calmer moment, that we will all be invited to embark as partners on this consequential journey to anchor our nation more deeply to this ancient land we all share.
Peter Lewis is an executive director of Essential, a progressive strategic communications and research company
