I once owned an ancient fridge. It was the Paul Lennon of fridges: heavy, rounded, thick-panelled and extraordinarily temperamental.
It was of such construction that, with a functioning closing mechanism and a good lock, it could have securely embosomed the most treasured of secrets — even the contract between Forestry Tasmania and Gunns Ltd. I always wondered at its efficiency though. Sure, it took half a degree off the temperature off my butter and beer, but in doing so it contributed at least six and a half degrees of ambient temperature and significant levels of noise to the room in which it dwelt.
But, do you know what I remember most? I remember those fleeting and blessed periods of peace when the Little-Thermostat-That-Could made it to the top of the hill and the ancient driving mechanism of the fridge momentarily cut out. The world just seemed to stop turning as I wallowed in the embracing, wondrous, magical, deafening quiet which abruptly descended upon my senses.
It’s been a little like that this week, hasn’t it? The clunky, permeating, deafening machinery of government suddenly halts; giving way to an unexpected and peaceful respite from the background din to which we have become so accustomed. Which has made me think; how much of that din is necessary?
Spin against substance
How much of the heat and noise generated by government — and I include ‘opposition’ in this loose definition of ‘government’ — is about the smooth and efficient management of the corporation of state, and how much is about being seen to be doing something? How much of it is about issuing press releases, arranging media conferences, orchestrating official openings, keeping the membership satisfied and having something to say about everything?
I’m hardly the first to question the value of spin against substance, but surely the one thing which we must learn from this seasonal break from the usual ballyhoo of seagulls fighting over chips, is that this place that we call Tasmania goes on, with or without the heat and noise which is entirely self-generated by the heralds of the political process.
Where is the politician who goes quietly about the business of policy formation and implementation? Where is the Minister whose priority is the effective management of his or her department? Are we so cynical to think that such politics are passé? Is it possible that we have become so corrupted that we cast our votes according to the amount of clamour generated by candidates, rather than the job they do?
I kept that old fridge way longer than I needed to. Eventually I overcame my apathy and replaced it with an item which did what I expected a fridge to do (keep things cold), without the associated and unnecessary heat and noise.
There are such items available, you know.
