Why It’s OUR Fault Malcolm Turnbull Sucks

By Joseph Earp

Malcolm Turnbull stands as the most disappointing Prime Minister this country has ever seen.

He is, at this moment in time, more of an abject failure than Tony Abbott ever was. Abbot was a dullard – a man poorly suited for the Prime Ministership. He was an excellent opposition minister, sure. He was like a dog going after a bone. Being vicious, and single-minded, and lacking subtlety suited him and his position. But when he was finally given the treat he so desired, he found he couldn’t adapt to the challenges. He came apart like a loo roll in the shower.

But he was always going to. He was doomed from the start – the fault was in his stars and himself, and there was never going to be a question of whether or not he’d find that knife sliding into his back. It was just a question of who would be holding it, and when.

Malcolm Turnbull is a different beast entirely. Malcolm Turnbull’s career serves as a damning indictment of what politics does to politicians in this country. Malcolm Turnbull’s career stands as an indictment of the process by which the Murdoch press and the singular willingness of Australians to be led by fear and ignorance can not only destroy the nation, but the very people who are trying to lead it.

What has happened to Malcolm Turnbull isn’t Malcolm Turnbull’s fault.

This is ours.

Australia got Malcolm Turnbull and Peter Dutton and that whole ignorant, pig-eyed demented mob because we asked for them. Middle of the line Turnbull – Turnbull the businessman – Turnbull the suit – Turnbull the nice haircut and the buzzwords about ‘innovation’ and the dead eyed stare… That Malcolm Turnbull is the Turnbull we created.

The real Turnbull, the Turnbull who filled us with hope back when he did topple Abbot, had to die in order to prop up this new puppet. Turnbull had to shrink and reduce himself because that is the politician he had to be in order to satiate our squealing about immigrants and our lack of squealing about the environment.

Turnbull is the middle ground. Turnbull is a man who talks about wanting to curb fossil fuel usage before he discovers that such an attitude makes him out of touch. Politicians – particularly liberal politicians – try to appeal to the middle ground. If people in this country truly resisted the inhuman treatment of refugees – if we decried every single act of horror that occurred on Manus Island – then we could make the words of men like Dutton and this new puppet Turnbull obsolete.

But we won’t. We won’t and we don’t. Australia is a fundamentally racist country. That’s not some spurious allegation – that is what our policy reflects. Offshore detention was deemed illegal by the UN, our policies were criticized throughout the world, and yet our country’s middle class – our country’ statistical core – still fears refugees fleeing violence and war.

We are a country that continues to be motivated by fear. And though some of us have rejected Dutton’s comments about refugees being ‘illiterate and inumerate’ not all of us have.

None of these words are being shouted down from a high horse. None of this is being shrieked from the higher ground. I am as much of a failure in this respect than anyone else – in fact, I’m more of a failure. I am exactly the kind of whiney, leftie sourpuss who moans about things from the safety of his computer but never once takes to the streets. I am a middle-class man who grows fat and content by hiding behind the structures that denigrate the poor and allow minorities to be oppressed.

By luck – sheer honest to god luck – I was born into a society designed for my benefit. I am not an Indigenous Australian, so statistically I am likely to live long. Simply because I took a certain door number when passing through into this world, I am given an extra twenty years.

And how do I use my privilege?

By allowing myself to grow numb. By allowing people like Malcolm Turnbull to appeal to me. By representing the middle of the ground, conservative boors that will vote for him next election.

When we decry Turnbull, we’re not decrying some far off force. We are decrying ourselves. Turnbull is us, writ large. And until we shake ourselves out of this daze – until we realise that, and turn our attentions inwards- men like Turnbull will fill offices till this world cooks itself free of the human race.