Dear Mr Abbott,
Please excuse me, a stranger, for writing to you like this, but I need to ask you an important question. It comes from an observation my daughter made over breakfast on Saturday morning. (It was a nice breakfast, I might add. Maybe not as good as what you got up in Brisbane at the G20 conference but Sydney’s inner west does have an array of very unique cafes that do very good breakfasts.)
Anyway, as we sat and sipped our lattes (actually mine was a tea, but that doesn’t sound as sophisticated as a latte – does it?), we chatted about you and what you might have been up to on the world stage.
My daughter made a simple observation. She said that not many of us get to have a say that actually means something and it resonated with me deeply. You see I say a lot of things. Give me a dinner party and a shared bottle of wine and I can solve the problems of the world. When I click on my Twitter app I am happy to sprout opinions left, right, and centre. (Let me take this opportunity to apologise to my small number of long suffering followers for this).
But, as outspoken as I am in my very small world, my say can’t actually change the world. My say, as my daughter so accurately observed, doesn’t actually mean something.
But Mr Abbott, you are not me. What you say matters.
I want you to think about the power of words for a minute. Think about the speeches that individual men and women have made throughout history. The ones that have forever changed our world, whether it be for better or worse. These speeches were made by people who knew that what they were going to say, would be heard.
Martin Luther King did not deliver his speech to an empty paddock. Lincoln knew his Gettysburg address would be widely reported. Churchill’s most remembered words were delivered during a statement he had requested time to deliver in Parliament.
When Noel Pearson orated his speech about Whitlam, he knew that it would be widely heard. It was on his way to a meeting of world leaders just like the one you attended this weekend Mr Abbott, (the 1987 G8 meeting in Venice) that Reagan implored Gorbachev to “tear down this wall”.
Mr Abbott, what you say, how you say it and who you say it to, actually means something. Being able to do this matters; it matters for you, and it matters to those of us who listen to you.
After our breakfast, my daughter and I found out what you had said, at an event where you knew you would be heard. There is, in one way, no point in anyone wishing you had spoken differently, in wishing you had dealt with different issues. The G20, and your time in the world spotlight, with those you actually recognised as “the most powerful and influential people in the world” is over.
But can I ask you Mr Abbott to next time remember my daughter’s word? My daughter, who will no doubt take many actions within her lifetime that are within her reach. I have no doubt she will buy eco-friendly shampoos and floor cleaning liquid. She will faithfully sort her plastics and bottles and her newspapers. She will reduce her consumption. She will strive to make good choices now, for her children, and her grandchildren.
But, she doesn’t have what you have. She will probably never get to have a say that actually means something.
You could have said so much. You could have joined with Barack Obama in calling for real action on climate change. You could have called for consensus on measures to stem inequality. You could have questioned whether economic growth for growth’s sake should indeed be what our world needs to pursue right now.
But you didn’t.
You chose to whinge about how hard it is to get your domestic policy through the Senate. And frankly, I’m sure it is. Negotiating with the likes of Jacqui Lambie, Ricky Muir and David Leyonhjelm would be my personal idea of hell. You have my sympathy.
But Mr Abbott you are in a position where your say, means something. Please, for the sake of all of our children, next time, can you just say something that matters? Even just a bit?