Something rather troublesome has become clear over the past few days.
I’ve asked questions & sounded a note of caution about One Nation, following their election launch in Melbourne and an article published in the media. Most of my posts on social media track with events or current news.
In doing this I’ve not demanded anyone stop supporting them. Not told anyone how to vote. I’ve raised questions about policy, money, donors, governance & accountability. As I do with other parties — a point many appear to conveniently forget.
And the reaction from some has been extraordinary.
The usual: I’m anti-One Nation. Anti-Pauline Hanson. Biased. Condescending. Arrogant. Trying to discredit them. Possibly even a Labor Party member.
But this is the troublesome bit.
One person told me I was disappointing my followers. Another said what I was doing “does not become” me. 🤷🏼♀️ Another, on more than one post, even suggested “you are not the person you once portrayed” — whatever the hell that means.
I’m exactly the person I’ve always been.
And yes, I’ll concede that I’ve become increasingly short with some of these responses.
Not because people disagree with me. Disagreement doesn’t bother me in the slightest. But I have little patience for people replacing an argument with a deeply personal assessment of my character, motives, or political allegiance simply because they don’t like the questions I’m asking.
Disagree with what I write. Challenge my facts. Argue against my conclusions. That’s political debate.
But telling me I’m “disappointing” people, that something “does not become me,” or that I’m somehow no longer the person I once “portrayed” myself to be is not an argument.
It’s an attempt to police what is perceived as dissent.
Dissent from what, exactly?
I’m not a One Nation supporter. I’ve never pretended to be, I’ve hardly been secretive about it & I’ve explained my reasons in many posts and blogs.
So what exactly am I supposed to have betrayed?
Myself?
Or is it simply that I’ve chosen to be open & to question when others, for whatever reason, would prefer I stayed silent? Or is the real problem simply that I haven’t joined the movement?
And perhaps that is what disappoints me most about all of this.
Because somewhere along the way, political support appears to have become something more than supporting a collection of policies or believing one party offers a better direction than another. Note, better — not perfect.
For some, it has become an identity.
And history has given us more than enough evidence of what can happen when political allegiance becomes part of personal identity and loyalty to the group becomes more important than the willingness to question it.
And once politics becomes identity, questioning the politician can feel like questioning the person who supports them.
Criticism becomes an attack. Scrutiny becomes hostility. A question becomes evidence that you must belong to the other side.
I used to see that behaviour largely through the prism of left versus right — they’ve gone to the dark side.
But it’s a problem the right equally owns. And we’re exceptionally good at turning it on anyone who refuses to toe the tribal line — sometimes quite viciously.
Well, I’m not a tribalist. I’m an individualist. I don’t outsource my thinking to a political party or a social media mob.
I criticise Labor regularly. Nobody seems terribly confused about what that means, except when they’re attacking me over an observation about their chosen team. I’ve criticised the parties I support, and nobody appears terribly troubled by that either.
Yet criticise One Nation and suddenly some people want to know whether I’ve joined Labor. Some even accuse me of being a Labor voter, which is utterly absurd.
I’m not some modern-day X Mata Hari, posting endless streams of Labor failures while secretly working as a Labor toady.
Surely political scrutiny cannot depend upon whose name appears at the top of the page.
If I question a Labor minister, I’m scrutinising a politician.
If I question a Liberal, National, Green, or Teal, I’m scrutinising a politician.
And if I scrutinise a One Nation politician, it’s the same thing — although apparently not according to the mob.
None of that is betrayal. It’s nothing more than commonsense questioning.
It’s what politically engaged people ought to do.
- You can support a political party and still ask where the money comes from.
- You can support a leader and still question something they say.
- You can agree with ten policies and challenge the eleventh.
- You can even change your mind.
None of that makes you disloyal.
Perhaps the more troubling political culture is one in which supporters begin policing one another:
- Don’t ask that.
- Don’t criticise her.
- Focus on the real enemy.
- You’re helping the other side.
Because once we reach that point, we are no longer evaluating politicians.
We are defending teams.
And politicians of every persuasion should be required to earn our support, not inherit our obedience.
Support should never require unquestioning loyalty.
In fact, perhaps the people we support are the very people we should be most willing to question.
Why?
Because if we help put them into government, we also must be prepared to defend why we did.
And if they later fail to deliver, claiming we didn’t understand what we were voting for, or simply thought they couldn’t possibly be any worse — remember 2022? — is no defence at all.
Our responsibility as voters doesn’t end when we choose a team.
That’s when accountability begins.
