Apparently, Democracy has a Comment Section

I’ve noticed something increasingly common across social media in response when someone posts criticism of Anthony Albanese. 

“Just let him get on with his job.”

It sounds reasonable enough.

Until you stop and think about it.

Apparently, a social-media post criticising the Prime Minister is now capable of preventing him from doing his job.

I’m not entirely sure how that works.

Presumably, somewhere inside Parliament House, Albanese is attempting to govern the country when someone posts a critical comment on Facebook and he is forced to put down his pen and say, “Oh dear. Someone on Facebook doesn’t approve of what I’m doing. I’d better stop.”

If only government were that easily disrupted.

The more serious point is that this attitude has become surprisingly prominent in political discussion: criticism of Albanese is sometimes treated not as part of democratic debate, but as an unnecessary obstacle to his ability to govern.

And that deserves some thought.

I recently came across a political Facebook page that describes itself as neither left nor right.

Fair enough.

In an age when political discussion increasingly resembles two football teams throwing bricks at each other, there is something rather appealing about a page that claims to sit somewhere in the middle.

Then I discovered one of its unwritten rules: negative posts about Anthony Albanese are not tolerated.

I confess I was slightly puzzled.

Not because I believe Albanese should be above criticism. Quite the opposite.

I have criticised Albanese myself. I have also criticised members of the Coalition, One Nation, other members of Labor, the media, politicians generally and, on particularly bad days, probably the entire concept of politics.

That’s rather the point.

If a political forum is genuinely interested in providing a neutral space for political discussion, surely neutrality cannot mean deciding in advance which politicians may be criticised and which should be protected from criticism.

It would be rather like announcing:

“We don’t take sides in football. However, criticism of the captain of one particular team will result in immediate dismissal.”

At that point, people might reasonably begin wondering about the definition of neutrality.

Now, there is an important distinction here.

A Facebook page is not the Australian Parliament. Its administrator is perfectly entitled to establish whatever rules they like, within the ordinary limits of the law and Facebook’s rules. Nobody is constitutionally obliged to provide us with a free Facebook soapbox.

But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t question the principle behind the rule.

Democracy isn’t simply about having the opportunity to praise our elected representatives.

It is about being able to question them.

And that includes the people we voted for.

In fact, I would argue that criticism of our own side is one of the more important tests of political independence.

It is easy to criticise the other side. We don’t even have to think particularly hard about it.

They are wrong.

We are right.

They are destroying the country.

We are saving it.

Their politicians are corrupt, incompetent, dangerous or possibly descended from extraterrestrial life forms.

Our politicians, meanwhile, are misunderstood.

This is how political tribalism works.

And it is why genuinely independent political discussion is valuable.

The High Court has recognised that Australia’s system of representative government depends upon political communication concerning government and political matters. The Court has described this freedom as necessary to the system of representative and responsible government and to the people’s ability to make a free and informed choice about their representatives.

That doesn’t mean every individual Facebook page must publish every opinion.

Nor does it mean that every criticism is intelligent, accurate or fair.

Some political commentary is little more than abuse with punctuation.

Moderating personal attacks, racism, threats, misinformation or deliberately dishonest material is one thing.

Saying, “We don’t allow criticism of this particular Prime Minister” is something rather different.

And telling people to “just let him get on with his job” whenever criticism appears is different again.

Because politicians don’t govern in a vacuum.

They govern while Australians argue about what they are doing.

That argument is not an interruption to democracy.

It is part of democracy.

Once we start treating criticism of a politician as something that should simply be suppressed so the politician can “get on with the job”, we risk forgetting that part of the job of an elected government is to be scrutinised by the people who elected it.

And perhaps that is the real problem with political tribalism.

It doesn’t always announce itself by saying:

“I support this party.”

Sometimes it says:

“I’m completely neutral – but please don’t say anything negative about our side.”

There is an old idea that democracy is about the people choosing their government. But that choice cannot be genuinely informed if citizens are encouraged to hear only the things that make their preferred politicians look good.

A healthy democracy needs supporters who can say:

“I voted for them, but I disagree with this.”

It needs opponents who can say:

“I don’t like them, but they got this right.”

And it needs political forums where both statements can be made.

That is not left-wing.

It is not right-wing.

It is not pro-Albanese.

It is not anti-Albanese.

It is simply the rather inconvenient business of thinking for ourselves.

Perhaps the greatest danger to democratic debate isn’t criticism of politicians.

Perhaps it is becoming so emotionally attached to our political tribe that we no longer believe our own side deserves any.