Ron Boswell left the Australian Senate a decade ago, but his new autobiography diagnoses our current political malaise perfectly when he writes that: “Today, focus groups lead us into the tyranny of small ideas.”
In recent years we have seen many major decisions made by the feral abacus of the focus group.
The core problem with focus groups is that they say nothing about how each individual is affected by a decision. When a government changes policy that will shut an industry, for example, the people in that industry deserve to have their views given greater weight.
This is not just because these people bear the brunt of the decision. They almost always understand the issues much better than any other person. They have skin in the game.
The focus group instead elevates ignorance and remoteness to a platform they do not deserve.
Inevitably, this causes frustration with our political process as a misguided energy policy causes power prices to skyrocket, or a panicked Covid response destroys small businesses.
Ron Boswell’s political career was centred on giving these victims a voice, often so that mistakes were not made, jobs were not lost and our nation did not fracture more into competing factions.
There are 59 chapters in Ron’s book and they have titles like: “Wool and Wheat”, “Indigenous title”, “Pharmacies”, “Sugar Seats”, “Have I Mentioned Fishing?”, “Bananarama” and “Ginger Groupie”.
Ron spent his career responding to the concerns of small businesses, farmers and the downtrodden. Some of these concerns appear small to the overall national political agenda but, for those involved, the political fight can mean life or death.
It is not a coincidence that the more our political system has struggled to respond to these “minority” concerns, the less popular our “majority” parties become.
Every time we make a decision solely based on the majority support of a focus group, there is the minority that become disillusioned with the lack of common sense. When we alienate such “minorities” time and time again, they soon add up to the “majority”.
Hence, the massive trust deficit that now exists between the people and their political institutions.
One response to this problem is the rise of protest parties on both the Left (the Teals) and the Right (One Nation, Palmer, etc).
This gives people the satisfaction of letting off steam without providing a real solution.
Ron Boswell’s book shows another, admittedly more tiring and dogged, solution.
Ron didn’t get angry, he got even. He took up the causes of fishers, farmers, miners and small business people. He knocked on doors, harassed ministers and even travelled overseas to take up their cause.
Ron got into a heated argument with Joh to ensure the Fish Board was not sold to corporate interests.
He stopped the foreclosure of a grazier’s property by calling the bank’s general manager to point out that the bank’s caretaker had racked up a huge bill phoning 1800 numbers. And he even travelled to Africa to help get a young Australian released from a Mozambique jail.
And, when Ron’s seat was at risk from a resurgent Pauline Hanson, he didn’t run focus groups on how to defeat her.
He just worked hard and came up with a cracking slogan: “He’s Not Pretty, But Pretty Effective” – which is also the apt title of his book.
Remarkably for a political autobiography Ron barely discusses his own career or appointments.
He spends just one paragraph detailing the experience of losing his ministry to the backroom intrigue of Canberra politics.
Ron’s book is about the hardworking men and women of Australia who struggle to get heard in our political system.
When I had the great honour of filling Ron’s very large boots in the Senate 10 years ago, I said that Ron’s performance as a Senator had “written the book on how to be a good Senator”.
I am glad that he actually has written a book so that future generations of politicians have a how-to guide.
The secret about how Ron, a paintbrush salesman from Brisbane, became Australia’s sixth-longest serving senator is all in there.
