A couple of weeks ago, Media Watch ran a lengthy segment on political disclosure, or when and how political commentators should disclose their political affiliations. Commentator Andrew Bolt decided to weigh into this debate last week, attacking Mamamia Editor Jamila Rizvi for not disclosing her political affiliations. As Bolt said:
How to disclose when you’re not disclosing:
Jamila Rizvi @JamilaRizvi
Editor at @Mamamia, columnist at @CosmopolitanAU, optimistic realist, feminist + former political staffer. Opinions expressed are mine + I’m not sharing. Hmph.“Editor at @mamamia” should already be enough to tell you her political leanings, given those of her boss.
This should clear it up:
So, back to the non-disclosure disclosure. Whose political staffer was Rizvi?
Need you ask? The Rudd and Gillard governments’, of course.
Apparently if you are commenting on public policy publicly, and you are a member of a political party, you should always have to disclose.
As a member of a political party myself (The Greens) and someone who writes publicly on a range of issues, I have thought about this a lot. I have often felt anxious about the impact my party membership on my public commentary, and the impact of my commentary on my party. When I was the Convenor of the ACT Greens in 2011-12 I decided to always disclose my membership whenever I was published (it may not have always worked out that way). As an elected spokesperson of the party at times, I thought it was necessary to delineate my two roles and make it clear when I was, and wasn’t, speaking for the party. Today, as someone without any of those roles, I don’t always publicly declare my affiliation (although it is relatively well known publicly), and I’m not sure I should always have to. It’s not that I have a problem with it, but rater that I think the debate about public disclosure is kind of missing the point. Here’s why, and why I think it is important.
In our public debate I have noticed that we have placed ‘official politics’ – or that of the work of elected politicians and political parties – into a very special and weird space. Whilst those of us who identify as members of NGOs, scientists, economists etc. are seen to argue for an issue because they believe in it, we have a mindset that those identified with parties are only there to put party first. Jamila Rizvi clearly only cares about cuts to the public service because campaigning on that will help the ALP, and I only write to help get the Greens ahead. The moment you join a political party in this country you are tainted – forever tarred with a brush of being a politician who cares more about power than values.
And I can see how this idea has come around – I have discussed cynicism in our political system extensively (here and here). When you take such a cynical approach it makes sense to be cynical about members of political parties. It is then obvious to assume that everybody needs to disclose because they are only talking to benefit party power, and not to progress a policy ideal.
But, as an argument, or belief system, this is fundamentally flawed (the media having a flawed understanding of the internal workings of political parties is a constant frustration of mine). Because whilst the leaders of political parties may present a united front, whether we believe it or not, intra-party debates are always present. I have never met a member of a political party who has not got a passion for the issues, and does not pursue them fully within their chosen party.
And here is where the problem lies. Because as long as this cynical idea dominates our political debate, it is going to discourage involvement in our political system. It seems obvious to me that as long as we pursue the idea that political parties are a centre of political sameism, where membership is simply a source of financial income and the potential to create foot soldiers for the policy prescriptions decided on from above, people are not going to want to engage in the process.
But it’s worse than that, because this narrative also discourages active debate within parties, and in particular discourages that debate becoming public. I can just point to my own experience in relation to this. In an article I wrote last year I criticised the queer movement for what I called exclusionary tactics, in particular around same sex marriage. In doing so I pointed out the exclusion of people in poly relationships from the debate and the Greens were one target for criticism. I didn’t do this to attack the party, but rather as an opportunity to try to open the debate about this issue. But for the mainstream media (or in particular The Australian), it was an opportunity to find ‘a split’, and they ran with that in an article called ‘Greens Elitist on Wedlock’. We can see this happen all the time, whether it is the debate in the Greens over the Tasmanian Forest Agreement, the arguments in the LNP over Paid Parental Leave, or the vote in the ALP caucus this week over political party funding. If there is a debate, it is a split – and one that clearly opens questions about party leadership.
The point here is that we have created a misunderstanding of how our political parties work – we assume a group of people who have exactly the same positions and are only in a party to help gain power in a non-ideological world. If the party changes positions, so to would the members. And if there is a debate, it clearly is a major split that opens up massive questions about relevant party leaders. Declaring affiliation here therefore really isn’t the problem – it is the way we treat our political process.
For me, my political affiliation is just one way in which I aim to achieve my policy goals. It is not the driving factor, but instead a means to an ends. I am left-wing first, and Greens identifying second. For everyone else I know in a party, this is the same. Declaring affiliation therefore isn’t the solution – it is just a way to alienate people from an essential political process.