The battle for country votes is heating up – even though the pace of the campaign is less frenetic than in the big cities
If you have only been watching mainstream coverage of the 2013 election, you would be excused for thinking there was no campaign at all in the bush.
There have been debates over Vegemite, make-up artists and the old Twigster – as well as the odd important issue like the economy – but so far the campaign has largely boiled down to a presidential-style race between Kevin Rudd and Tony Abbott.
But there is another, almost separate campaign going on, outside the major cities, outside the handful of marginal seats – one taking place across probably 95% of Australia's landmass.
In rural Australia, the ALP is on a hiding to nothing. Labor is worried about Richmond and Page, both on the north coast of New South Wales, and Joel Fitzgibbon's seat of Hunter, which has a mix of regional and rural areas. Tasmanian Labor seats of Bass and Braddon, which are also mixed, look like swinging.
The Nationals, the traditional country party, are competing for expansive electorates with their own Coalition partner, the Liberals – plus the ALP, Katter's Australia party (KAP), the Palmer United party (PUP), Pauline Hanson's One Nation, many more minor parties and a swag of independents.
While the pace here may appear less frenetic – at a country town morning tea to meet your members, say – there are different dynamics at play. After living in a rural seat for 20 years and watching city and country politics, I have noticed some striking differences in the rules of political engagement.
The first obvious difference between the bush and the city is the sheer size of large rural electorates. For example, the Liberal MP Barry Haase is retiring in Durack, sparking a three-cornered contest, between Melissa Price (Liberal), Shane Van Styn (National) and Daron Keogh (Labor). Durack covers 63% of Western Australia and at 1,587,758km sq, it is larger than the Northern Territory.
Contrast that with the changing demographics of the NSW north coast seats of Page – 16,000km sq – held by Labor's Janelle Saffin on a margin of 4.2%; or Richmond – 2,700km sq – held by Labor's member Justine Elliott on a 7% margin.
Both have continued to change demographically since the "alternative lifestylers" moved into conservative farming country in the 1970s. In Richmond, which covers Byron Bay, the Greens attracted a primary vote of 16.2% in 2010, which was just a behind the National party's 21.2%.
Rudd has visited both electorates, a sign the ALP is worried.
The second difference is an inherent, marrow-infused conservatism. Rural voters are more cautious about change. Agriculture does not favour the brave, it favours the saver and the planner. Yet once candidates have established themselves, country voters seem willing to stick with them.
In my own seat of Hume, voters have swung between Liberal, National and less frequently Labor, depending on the personal following and support for individuals.
My retiring Liberal member, Alby Schultz, did what so many effective local members do, open every show, every art competition, every school fete. I have had conversations with rusted-on Labor members who, once they had moved into the district, supported Schultz because he was a good bloke, he got a grant for the local club, or he helped them with an electorate matter.
The National party has traditionally done well using this principle. As a party whose reason for being is rural issues, country electorates are considered their natural terrain. But country independents, such as New England's retiring MP Tony Windsor, Lyne's Rob Oakeshott and the late Peter Andren, all proved that a connected, effective, non-aligned member can do equally well.
This election, you may not have noticed the man who may be the next deputy prime minister, the Nationals leader, Warren Truss, ambling along the affectionately named Wombat Trail – the name given to his country campaign.
And it is like a wombat: head down, bum up, carrying on without taking much notice of the kerfuffle from Rudd and Abbott.
National party strategists would much prefer a front page in 20 tiny town newspapers than a "page lead" article in a state or national newspaper.
It is an intensely local focus because of the third difference between country and city electorates – the issues. Like the cities, rural people tend to vote on economic issues, but with a very local flavour.
Through the northern parts of Australia, Labor's decision to close down live cattle exports to Indonesia following the Four Corners report still evokes anger. Livelihoods were affected and even for those without cattle, the bush telegraph – now embodied by social media platforms like Facebook – quickly spreads personal stories of financial ruin.
Communications issues, such as mobile service black spots, loom large – hence the Coalition's $100m commitment – with fairly widespread support for the National Broadband Network.
Health services, mental health, and support services for people travelling for treatment away from their homes are also big issues.
And tertiary education, with its associated issues and costs of children leaving their hometowns to study, remains high on the list.
The final difference is the importance of relationships in a country electorate. Relationships count a lot more when considering voting patterns. It is a truism that in a city you may not know a single soul in your apartment block but in a country town you will know everyone.
Smart candidates take into account social networks – on the ground and on the internet – to build word-of-mouth support.
To build momentum for a campaign in a rural seat, the rule is to start with the small villages. If a member comes to my local pub for an event, chances are about 150 residents out of a total of 232 will turn out. This happens for two reasons. First, there are not a lot of social events on the calendar. Second, people appreciate a candidate making the effort for "just us". Once candidates have made the connections, the word spreads out from small towns, into larger centres.
This "relationship" effect is on display in the seat of Indi in Victoria, perhaps the most visible rural contest. The Liberal lawyer Sophie Mirabella should have been a shoo-in to hold the seat on a margin of 9%.
However, she is facing a strong challenge from Cathy McGowan, who came through a grassroots local political movement called Voice for Indi. With a background in community engagement through an agricultural consultancy, McGowan already had finely honed skills in using community connections to spread the word over 28,000km sq.
Ironically, Voice for Indi sprang out of a disillusionment with national politics, exacerbated by the optics of a hung parliament, which in more conservative areas was considered a result for country independents.
McGowan said the first question she is often asked is who she would vote for in the case of a hung parliament. It depends on the circumstances, she replies.
"Generally they want to you go whichever way they normally vote," she says.
Because her campaign began with a group of politically engaged local people from the major parties – Liberal, Labor, National party and Greens as well as non-aligned – McGowan had more of a head start than most independents.
Part of her support base is a group of very tech-savvy younger people, who established a slick website, social media networks and small offices throughout the electorate. Every town now has a Facebook group where residents can post local events. This draws people in with local news and discusses election issues at the same time.
McGowan now has 420 active volunteers who have raised $82,000 throughout the campaign, using movie nights, bush dances and other events where people interact.
"Personal relationships are hugely important," she said.
"If someone sees a sign in a neighbour's paddock, even if they don't know me, they are more likely to trust me because it is a recommendation of trust from their friend." Reported by guardian.co.uk 3 hours ago.
If you have only been watching mainstream coverage of the 2013 election, you would be excused for thinking there was no campaign at all in the bush.
There have been debates over Vegemite, make-up artists and the old Twigster – as well as the odd important issue like the economy – but so far the campaign has largely boiled down to a presidential-style race between Kevin Rudd and Tony Abbott.
But there is another, almost separate campaign going on, outside the major cities, outside the handful of marginal seats – one taking place across probably 95% of Australia's landmass.
In rural Australia, the ALP is on a hiding to nothing. Labor is worried about Richmond and Page, both on the north coast of New South Wales, and Joel Fitzgibbon's seat of Hunter, which has a mix of regional and rural areas. Tasmanian Labor seats of Bass and Braddon, which are also mixed, look like swinging.
The Nationals, the traditional country party, are competing for expansive electorates with their own Coalition partner, the Liberals – plus the ALP, Katter's Australia party (KAP), the Palmer United party (PUP), Pauline Hanson's One Nation, many more minor parties and a swag of independents.
While the pace here may appear less frenetic – at a country town morning tea to meet your members, say – there are different dynamics at play. After living in a rural seat for 20 years and watching city and country politics, I have noticed some striking differences in the rules of political engagement.
The first obvious difference between the bush and the city is the sheer size of large rural electorates. For example, the Liberal MP Barry Haase is retiring in Durack, sparking a three-cornered contest, between Melissa Price (Liberal), Shane Van Styn (National) and Daron Keogh (Labor). Durack covers 63% of Western Australia and at 1,587,758km sq, it is larger than the Northern Territory.
Contrast that with the changing demographics of the NSW north coast seats of Page – 16,000km sq – held by Labor's Janelle Saffin on a margin of 4.2%; or Richmond – 2,700km sq – held by Labor's member Justine Elliott on a 7% margin.
Both have continued to change demographically since the "alternative lifestylers" moved into conservative farming country in the 1970s. In Richmond, which covers Byron Bay, the Greens attracted a primary vote of 16.2% in 2010, which was just a behind the National party's 21.2%.
Rudd has visited both electorates, a sign the ALP is worried.
The second difference is an inherent, marrow-infused conservatism. Rural voters are more cautious about change. Agriculture does not favour the brave, it favours the saver and the planner. Yet once candidates have established themselves, country voters seem willing to stick with them.
In my own seat of Hume, voters have swung between Liberal, National and less frequently Labor, depending on the personal following and support for individuals.
My retiring Liberal member, Alby Schultz, did what so many effective local members do, open every show, every art competition, every school fete. I have had conversations with rusted-on Labor members who, once they had moved into the district, supported Schultz because he was a good bloke, he got a grant for the local club, or he helped them with an electorate matter.
The National party has traditionally done well using this principle. As a party whose reason for being is rural issues, country electorates are considered their natural terrain. But country independents, such as New England's retiring MP Tony Windsor, Lyne's Rob Oakeshott and the late Peter Andren, all proved that a connected, effective, non-aligned member can do equally well.
This election, you may not have noticed the man who may be the next deputy prime minister, the Nationals leader, Warren Truss, ambling along the affectionately named Wombat Trail – the name given to his country campaign.
And it is like a wombat: head down, bum up, carrying on without taking much notice of the kerfuffle from Rudd and Abbott.
National party strategists would much prefer a front page in 20 tiny town newspapers than a "page lead" article in a state or national newspaper.
It is an intensely local focus because of the third difference between country and city electorates – the issues. Like the cities, rural people tend to vote on economic issues, but with a very local flavour.
Through the northern parts of Australia, Labor's decision to close down live cattle exports to Indonesia following the Four Corners report still evokes anger. Livelihoods were affected and even for those without cattle, the bush telegraph – now embodied by social media platforms like Facebook – quickly spreads personal stories of financial ruin.
Communications issues, such as mobile service black spots, loom large – hence the Coalition's $100m commitment – with fairly widespread support for the National Broadband Network.
Health services, mental health, and support services for people travelling for treatment away from their homes are also big issues.
And tertiary education, with its associated issues and costs of children leaving their hometowns to study, remains high on the list.
The final difference is the importance of relationships in a country electorate. Relationships count a lot more when considering voting patterns. It is a truism that in a city you may not know a single soul in your apartment block but in a country town you will know everyone.
Smart candidates take into account social networks – on the ground and on the internet – to build word-of-mouth support.
To build momentum for a campaign in a rural seat, the rule is to start with the small villages. If a member comes to my local pub for an event, chances are about 150 residents out of a total of 232 will turn out. This happens for two reasons. First, there are not a lot of social events on the calendar. Second, people appreciate a candidate making the effort for "just us". Once candidates have made the connections, the word spreads out from small towns, into larger centres.
This "relationship" effect is on display in the seat of Indi in Victoria, perhaps the most visible rural contest. The Liberal lawyer Sophie Mirabella should have been a shoo-in to hold the seat on a margin of 9%.
However, she is facing a strong challenge from Cathy McGowan, who came through a grassroots local political movement called Voice for Indi. With a background in community engagement through an agricultural consultancy, McGowan already had finely honed skills in using community connections to spread the word over 28,000km sq.
Ironically, Voice for Indi sprang out of a disillusionment with national politics, exacerbated by the optics of a hung parliament, which in more conservative areas was considered a result for country independents.
McGowan said the first question she is often asked is who she would vote for in the case of a hung parliament. It depends on the circumstances, she replies.
"Generally they want to you go whichever way they normally vote," she says.
Because her campaign began with a group of politically engaged local people from the major parties – Liberal, Labor, National party and Greens as well as non-aligned – McGowan had more of a head start than most independents.
Part of her support base is a group of very tech-savvy younger people, who established a slick website, social media networks and small offices throughout the electorate. Every town now has a Facebook group where residents can post local events. This draws people in with local news and discusses election issues at the same time.
McGowan now has 420 active volunteers who have raised $82,000 throughout the campaign, using movie nights, bush dances and other events where people interact.
"Personal relationships are hugely important," she said.
"If someone sees a sign in a neighbour's paddock, even if they don't know me, they are more likely to trust me because it is a recommendation of trust from their friend." Reported by guardian.co.uk 3 hours ago.