The Sex Party, according to results at the time of going to press, may well get a seat in the Upper House of the Parliament of Victoria. I apologize to Her Majesty, who heads that honorable institution, and it may be too crass for a publication as refined as The Spectator Australia, but in the spirit of that Party … WTF?
That the Sex Party has the prospect of representation in a legislative body in Australia says a lot about what’s wrong with the Australian electorate and our electoral process. Consider some of the parties representing the civic aspirations of Australian citizens in recent State and Federal elections.
There’s the ‘I have a right to kill things’ Shooters’ Party. Or the ‘I have a right to tear up national parks in my fourwheel drive’ Motoring Enthusiast Party, with its less green ‘my right to do burn-outs at less than $1 per litre’ faction. There’s the ‘dude, who took my bong, now I’m really angry’ Hemp Party. Or the ‘I’ve got a brand new pair of roller skates’ Cyclists’ Party. There’s the ‘whatever you do, don’t look back at Sodom’ Rise Up Australia Party (which we all pray will soon be rocked by a sex scandal, Insha’allah). It’s to the right of the ‘Mary, Mother of God!’ Democratic Labor Party, still channeling BA Santamaria. There’s the ‘look into its eyes – how could you?’ Animal Justice Party. Most recently, there’s the ‘I think we’re being monitored, and they’ll make us sterile’ Smart Meter Party. And of course, there’s the ‘if I ruled the world, 肏你祖宗十八代’ Clive Palmer Party*, which has suffered its first split via the ‘it’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to’ Jacqui Lambie faction.
It’s only after reflecting on this invasion of political zombie parties that I have some attraction to the ‘let me end it, just let me end it’ Euthanasia Party.
These parties are usually just will-to-power vehicles for their egotistical founders. The Sex Party, if we take their policy platform seriously, is just the Democratic Liberal Party’s David Leyonhjelm with a swag full of sex toys.
The individuals who set these parties up, for all their cant about democratic principles, would never merge with broadly like-minded groups and face having to be bound by democratic party room processes.
Pauline Hanson has worked out that you can earn good money running at every election without having to worry about the responsibilities of actually being elected. The candidates for these parties really want to get into parliament. A preference-sharing negotiator like Glen Druery is more than happy to earn a living exploiting their naiveté and hubris.
I don’t want to just whinge about our plight. But I haven’t got the time to put into joining a major party, attending meetings, mounting the arguments and influencing the policy platform, nor assessing and pre-selecting candidates who share my views. So I’m thinking of establishing the ‘Prohibit Small Parties Party’. If enough people with a sense of irony get behind me, we might just succeed.
We would support either or both of the major parties in mandating a higher quota for upper house elections. We would insist on optional preferential voting, no above the line option, and a system that stopped distribution of preferences after the second preference was allocated. After my party was formed, registered and elected (I’m not stupid), we would insist on a minimum membership for party registration of 2,500. We would insist on open party membership lists and a limit to membership of only one party.
As a responsible small party, we would, of course, be in favor of more spending on defence, more spending on health and education, more spending on road and transport infrastructure, more spending on the environment (and a believer in turning our lights off at Party headquarters during the annual Earth Hour in order to push back the tide in Micronesia), more spending on sport to bring back more gold medals at the next Olympics, and … absolutely committed to less taxation.
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*肏你祖宗十八代 is roughly translated as ‘f--- your ancestors to the eighteenth generation’ – again, apologies to the refined readership of The Spectator Australia, but how else do you accurately write about Clive Palmer?
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