Victorian ALP Campaign Launch
written by Kevin Summers, November 2002
The man strode through the rising crowd, impeccable in a dark grey suit. The strategically placed Labor luminaries did their bit for the assembled media: Barry Jones fell into a warm embrace, skier and candidate Kirsty Marshall gave him a peck on the cheek and the giant ex-footballer and Minister for Sport Justin Madden shook hands. A quick grouping of the family and Steve Bracks sauntered to a dais to deliver his administration's policy speech.
He announced a few initiatives - a new women's hospital, a water saving scheme, an arterial road upgrade and cash incentives to encourage family raisers to rejoin the workforce - but these days such occasions are a mainly a rehash of previously announced policies and the chance to speak in generalities. Thus the Premier can claim that "Regional Victorians are no longer second class citizens." and that "Victoria is no longer a state divided against itself." and none of the 500 party faithful was going to jump up and demand to know exactly what was meant by this verbiage.
The morning at what was once the Moorabbin Town Hall - a remarkably ugly 1963 celebration of red brick - was all about style, not substance. But hang on, this is Steve Bracks up there in the spotlight. The Steve Bracks who three years back at his first policy speech in Ballarat broke into a Richard Nixon sweat. The bloke who flubbed his lines and shifted his weight every few seconds. And now we speak of Steve Bracks and style. Together?
Style, political style in particular, is transient. In 1996, Jeff Kennett's style was regarded as assertive and dynamic. By 1999, it was aggressive and dictatorial. For decades the electorate saw John Howard as static and boring but now lauds him as a tower of strength as he protects our borders.
As Bracks faced his audience, took a deep breath and began his speech, he displayed the confidence of a politician for whom time and chance have neatly coincided. His recognition factor is high and growing, leaving his Liberal challenger, Robert Doyle, far behind. Bracks realises that Victorians know and like him. It makes a difference. He could afford, in the only television debate with Doyle, to scarcely acknowledge his opponent's presence beside him, leaving Doyle to play the smiling everyman.
The delivery of the policy speech was as fluent and unhurried as the Premier's minders could have hoped, Bracks having (almost) mastered the use of the autocue. He basked in the constant applause. By the end of the twenty minute address only a few beads of sweat emerged from the makeup on the top lip. There followed the obligatory standing ovation and another family get together.
The morning was not without some hiccups. Voters in Narre Warren would have been delighted to know that there are free new schools in their area, rather than three - Bracks often struggles with pronunciation. In misreading the autocue and omitting the word "low", he proclaimed that Victoria's dams were at record levels. The suburb of Epping was renamed Epic, a mistake he acknowledged with humour and grace.
Three years ago Bracks would have lacked the confidence to make light of such an error. He could only have staggered on, hoping to complete the task without too many mistakes. At Ballarat (his home town), the wonder was not the delivery but the fact that he managed to get through the ordeal.
Yes, there is a Bracks style. It may be bland, not particularly articulate and often hesitant but it seems to fit the times and, of course, with power comes confidence. By the next Victorian election, however, three or fours down the track, a cynical citizenry may judge it as clumsy, even gauche. There may be a glimmer of hope for Robert Doyle - if he can stick it out.
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