If this is renewal, Angus Taylor needs a new speechwriter

Every new leader gets a first moment.

When Angus Taylor stepped up to lead the Liberal Party of Australia, this was the pivotal moment. Fresh page. Fresh language. A chance to widen the tent.

He could have said this:

Australia is strong.
We are entering a decade defined by productivity, housing supply, energy transition and technological change.
Our task is to grow the economy, lift wages through innovation and manage migration with discipline so infrastructure keeps pace.
We are the party of aspiration. We back small business, we back home ownership, we back families who work hard and want opportunity for their children.
We will listen, we will modernise, and we will build a serious alternative government.

That would have framed the future.

Instead, here is what he said.

“I’m particularly conscious that we got some big calls wrong – especially on personal income tax. And it won’t happen again.”

“If an election was held today, our party may not exist by the end of it.”

“We’re in this position because we didn’t stay true to our core values – because we stopped listening to Australians, because we were attracted to the politics of convenience rather than focusing on the politics of conviction.”

And in a time that calls for social cohesion, here is the immigration frame he chose.

“In this country, our borders have been open to people who hate our way of life, people who don’t want to embrace Australia, and who want Australia to change for them.”

He could have said this

Control of our borders is a fundamental responsibility of government.
Migration must serve Australia’s national interest, support economic growth and maintain social cohesion.
We will ensure that every intake strengthens the country and reflects the standards Australians expect.

One version expands the horizon.
One version narrows it.

One version invites aspiration.
One version centres anxiety.

Politics is not only about policy. It is about tone and imagination. A first speech as leader is about defining tomorrow.

Australia is confident. Voters respond to leaders who sound that way.

The difference between these two speeches is altitude.

And altitude is everything.

If there were a masterclass in how to shrink a moment, yesterday’s speech from Angus Taylor would be the case study.

The Ugliness of Using Others to Do Your Bidding – The Proxy Wars

There’s something undeniably ugly about powerful entities—whether in the Middle East or right here in Australian politics—using others to do their bidding while stepping back from the dirty work. It feels manipulative and disingenuous. It’s a tactic that allows agendas to be pushed through complex systems without full transparency or accountability. And it’s no wonder that, for those of us trying to make sense of it all, it leaves a bad taste. The real issues, and the people they affect, often get lost in the shuffle of political manoeuvring.

I’ve been digging into how conflicts and politics work, and this recurring theme is hard to ignore. In places like the Middle East, we see countries like Iran using proxy groups—militias and organisations that fight on their behalf—to achieve goals without getting directly involved. It’s a way to influence events while keeping their hands clean, avoiding the immediate risks of being on the frontlines themselves.

The unsettling part? This very same concept exists in Australian politics. Here, political parties may not use militias, but they still rely on proxy groups in the form of advocacy organisations, unions, business groups, and media outlets to push their agendas while maintaining a safe distance from the consequences. Let’s break it down.

In the Middle East, Iran might back a militia to fight battles, all while claiming plausible deniability. In Australia, the playbook is a bit more polished, but the idea is similar. Political parties use third-party groups to do the heavy lifting.

Take the Australian Labor Party (ALP), which benefits from trade unions campaigning for workers’ rights, running ads, and mobilising support. The Liberal Party has its own proxies—business groups like the Minerals Council of Australia, which fight against regulation that might harm industry profits. Then there’s the role of the media. Outlets like News Corp Australia tend to lean into conservative policies, giving the Liberal Party a megaphone without the party itself having to say a word.

What ties all of this together is the idea of plausible deniability. Political parties benefit from these campaigns, but when things get controversial or unpopular, they can step back and say, “That wasn’t us.” It’s a clever way to play the game without getting your hands dirty, just like in the Middle East, where proxy groups do the fighting while those in power sit back.

In both cases, the strategy is clear: achieve your goals without direct involvement in the messier aspects. Whether it’s political influence in Australia or military conflict abroad, this approach allows those in power to keep their distance from the fallout, while others do the dirty work. It’s an age-old tactic, but it doesn’t make it any less troubling.

For the rest of us, it’s frustrating to see how real issues—be they workers’ rights, industry regulation, or even the integrity of our political system—are overshadowed by backroom manoeuvring and strategic distancing. In a system where proxy groups are doing the bidding, accountability often falls by the wayside.

So, the next time you see a heated political campaign or read an aggressive editorial in a newspaper, it’s worth asking: who’s really pulling the strings? The answer might not be as straightforward as it seems.

#PoliticalManipulation #ProxyPolitics #HiddenInfluence #PowerDynamics
#BehindTheScenes #AustralianPolitics #MediaManipulation #PoliticalStrategy #CorporateInfluence #PlausibleDeniability
#PoliticalAccountability #PoliticalProxies #ProxyWars

Footnote:

Back to the reason I did a deep dive into this issue in the first place is to me the most confusing aspects of the Middle East conflicts is the widespread use of proxy warfare. This means that powerful countries—such as Iran, the U.S., or Saudi Arabia—back local militant groups to fight on their behalf, rather than engaging in direct military confrontation. For example, Iran supports Hezbollah and various Shia militias, while the U.S. has backed Kurdish forces in Syria.

Proxy wars blur the lines between state and non-state actors. When these groups launch attacks or fight in regional conflicts, it’s not always clear who is pulling the strings or what their ultimate goals are. This indirect involvement of powerful nations adds another layer of confusion, making it hard for everyday observers to tell which country or group is driving the conflict.

Another reason why understanding the Middle East can be so challenging is the way media covers these events. News outlets often focus on specific incidents—such as a rocket attack or a military strike—without always explaining the broader context. While these snapshots are important, they don’t provide the full picture.

Moreover, the media often simplifies conflicts into binary narratives: good versus evil, ally versus enemy. In reality, the Middle East conflicts are not so black and white. Allies today could become enemies tomorrow, and groups that seem ideologically opposed may cooperate for strategic reasons. This oversimplification makes it even harder for the average person to get a grip on the true nature of the conflicts.

Politics plays a huge role in shaping how conflicts are portrayed. Governments around the world, including in the U.S. and Europe, often frame Middle Eastern conflicts in ways that align with their national interests. For example, Israel’s security concerns are frequently emphasised in Western media, while the humanitarian crisis in Gaza may not receive the same level of attention.

This selective reporting can skew public understanding, leaving many people with only part of the story. Without access to clear, unbiased information, it’s difficult for the average citizen to develop an informed perspective.

Amid all the political manoeuvring and military strategies, the human cost of these conflicts is often overshadowed. Civilians in places like Syria, Gaza, and Yemen bear the brunt of the violence, yet their suffering can be reduced to just another statistic. For those far removed from the region, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that real people—families, children, communities—are caught in the middle.

Understanding these conflicts isn’t just about knowing who’s fighting whom; it’s about recognising the profound impact these wars have on the lives of ordinary people. Unfortunately, this humanitarian aspect often gets lost in the geopolitical discourse.