As Trump trashes America’s democracy, we’re celebrating ours

When a high-powered group of Americans joined a swag of influential Australians for a three-day conclave in Adelaide this week, it was a bit like a wedding and a funeral.

The Aussies broadly were content with the state of our democracy, even celebrating it; the Americans were mourning the passing of theirs.

“There’s an enormous amount of trepidation about the impact of [US President Donald] Trump on our institutions and guardrails,” a former chair of the US Republican National Committee, Michael Steele, tells me as Trump’s takeover of policing in a second major city took effect. First LA, now Washington.

“What’s unspoken,” adds Steele, one of the delegates to the annual Australian American Leadership Dialogue, “is the impact on our identity as Americans. Not just as a global presence, but that swagger we had about this being the land of the free and home of the brave and a place where you could achieve your dream. Now it’s ‘only if you check the boxes we want you to check’. Listening to you guys [Australians], I was thinking to myself, ‘Why can’t we have normal politics, why do we have this crazy stuff?’”

One of the Australian delegates, Malcolm Turnbull, was particularly struck by the gloom among the Americans – to the point where, at one dinner session, he turned to humour to lighten the funereal mood. It didn’t work.

The dialogue’s sessions are off the record to invite frankness, but, speaking outside the forum, Turnbull tells me: “The Australians were much more optimistic about their democracy than the Americans were about their own. And the South Australians, in particular, had reason to be in good cheer.”

Indeed, the premier, Labor’s Peter Malinauskas, astonished some of the Americans and educated some of the Aussies, too, when he laid out South Australia’s litany of democratic innovations – some historical, some very current.

“This is the home of liberal democracy,” he was audacious enough to claim. Of course, the philosophical and intellectual foundations were laid long before the state existed, but South Australia can legitimately boast, as Malinauskas does, that: “This is where the universal franchise started, in 1894 – we were the first jurisdiction in the world to allow women to vote and stand for parliament. We were first in the world to institute the secret ballot”, in 1856, which for many years was known overseas as the “Australian ballot”. (New Zealand granted women the vote in 1893 and some overseas territories did so even earlier.)

“And we were first to introduce pre-populated ballot papers”, printed with candidates’ names, Malinauskas said, meaning that voters didn’t have to write the name of their chosen one, so semi-literate people had a better chance at taking part. In the scheme of things, that’s not very long ago. The democratic project needs to evolve to people’s concerns.

Which is one reason that Malinauskas decided to outlaw political donations.

“There may be another jurisdiction somewhere that does it, but we haven’t been able to find them. From July 1, we think we’re the first in the world to ban private donations to political parties and members of parliament. At our election next year, there’ll be zero donations from unions, zero donations from corporations.”

The only exception is for non-incumbent – new – candidates and new parties “so the advantages of incumbency are not baked in”. The system now is to be publicly funded. “We’ve now broken the financial link to the unions; it came as a bit of a shock to some.”

One reason Malinauskas pursued this reform is that “there’s public concern about huge amounts of money being donated and the perception of undue influence”. The other? A taste of the US system, where it’s out of control. “Patently absurd,” he points out.

Finally, it was South Australia that pioneered the social media ban for under-16s. Malinauskas proposed it last year. Other states and then the federal parliament followed. It’s due to take effect in December.

“My view is that democracy globally is approaching a crisis among young people who feel it’s not the best way to govern ourselves,” Malinauskas tells me. “That presents an opportunity for us not just to make sure we preserve it, but that we celebrate it.”

The speaker of the Australian parliament, Milton Dick, another delegate, explained some of the mechanisms that help account for Australia’s democratic success: compulsory voting, the independent Australian Electoral Commission, “and the egalitarian nature of Australia that means literally anyone can become prime minister”.

Dick is waging a quiet civics crusade of his own. The speaker visited 160 schools across Australia in the last term of parliament. “It’s my temperature check – whether it’s Cooktown or Charters Towers or remote WA, there’s still a great deal of energy and excitement about our democracy. I just think people need to know more,” he tells me.

Kids unfailingly ask him three questions when he visits. One, do you have your own plane? (Answer, no). Two, have you met Trump? (Usually spoken, he says, with a sense of apprehension.) Three, what’s Anthony Albanese like? (They apparently know the name of the prime minister, a good starting point.)

Steele, these days a political commentator and host for the US cable network MSNBC, says “there’s a question I’m asking a lot – how do you rebuild these institutions and rebuild these guide rails? What’s happened to the government is not easily undone.”

If a post-Trump America can recover and rebuild, perhaps it could look to more durable democratic systems for guidance. Like ours. “Compulsory voting,” Turnbull points out, “appears radical to Americans, but it’s been part of our political culture for over a century. It keeps the Australian political contest in the centre.

“Australians, and South Australians in particular, are ready to defend and reinforce their democracy with innovations.”

Our democratic fates may be diverging, but Australia has to find a way to preserve as much of the US alliance as possible. Over the decades, we’ve built our systems of defence and intelligence into US structures to the point that they’re largely inseparable.

Without the latest software update, for instance, Australia’s fleet of F-35 fighter jets is useless, permanently grounded. Not to mention the Five Eyes system, which, officials say, continues to exchange intelligence smoothly regardless of the mad autocrat in the White House. The danger of Xi Jinping’s plan for dominance grows only greater.

The 80th anniversary of Victory in the Pacific Day reminds us of how vital US power can be in the protection of Australian sovereignty. It’s the war that wedded Australian security to America’s.

But, inevitably, it will get harder and harder for Australia. Trump has smashed through the US free trade treaty with Australia, and there’s more to come as his administration seeks to dismantle Australia’s Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme and other central structures of the nation’s “fair go” infrastructure. The under-16 social media ban will be another target for Trump. Washington will relentlessly pressure Canberra to step up defence spending.

Albanese’s approach so far is to stay low and hope the storm passes. He profits politically whenever criticised by the Trump administration. He need merely stand his ground to appear effortlessly patriotic.

But the opposition will not give Albanese any rest; it will be similarly relentless in demanding that the prime minister deal with Trump. “The alliance,” says Opposition Leader Sussan Ley, “is drifting to the edge of the solar system.

“The prime minister hasn’t met the president yet and it’s been more than a decade since a US president visited Australia, since Obama in 2014.”

Does she appreciate that Albanese worries he has more to lose than to gain by meeting Trump? “Albanese’s timidity is not in the national interest. The relationship is much bigger than his feelings about a particular person,” she tells me.

Would she concede that Trump can be very difficult to deal with? “All presidents, all leaders have their idiosyncrasies. We don’t have a vote in their election, but we have a big stake in the relationship, whoever is in the White House.”

Ley has recommitted the Coalition to increasing Australian defence spending to the equivalent of 3 per cent of GDP, greater than Labor’s promised trajectory towards 2.4 per cent. And, quite apart from AUKUS, she is determined to pursue Australian preparedness: “This isn’t only a conversation about conflict, it’s about national preparedness and resilience – do we have enough stored fuel in the event that supply lines are cut; can we develop our pharmaceutical needs; is our digital infrastructure resilient? Can we develop the drones and munitions we need? It goes to our capacity to endure hardship.”

The government in its first term committed to building Australian resilience, but there’s no evidence of any actual improvements. This is a traditional area of perceived political advantage for the Coalition; it’s a new line of political confrontation from Ley.

Australia wedded itself to America in and after World War II, and now Ley is determined that Albanese renews Australia’s vows. Even if it has to be a shotgun wedding.

Peter Hartcher is political editor and a longstanding member of the Australian American Leadership Dialogue.

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