life, helping them into positions they otherwise wouldn’t rise to on merit alone.
It’s a phenomenon familiar to anyone who has found themselves with a boss or colleague keen to tell tall tales.
Perhaps it’s no coincidence that trust in our political system is at an lowest.
Government front benches of both political stripes have long been littered with ex-private school toffs.
A survey conducted last July by the Museum of Australian Democracy at Old Parliament House and the University of Canberra’s Institute for Governance and Policy Analysis found just 41 per cent of Australians were satisfied with the way democracy was working.
Three weeks into the federal election, we’ve already seen a tsunami of bullshit, bluster and alternative facts.
From Shorten’s “misunderstanding” of questions on his own superannuation policies to fibs about death taxes and electric cars to the flagrant nonsense and hyperbole that comes out of Clive Palmer’s camp, the bullshit has been flying thick and fast this campaign in our new post-truth world.
It’s partly the fault of media and of voters for allowing bullshit to fester unchecked.
Every time we allow a claim unscrutinised or share hyperpartisan crap online, we’re
Government front benches of both political stripes have long been littered with ex-private school toffs
helping to feed the bullshit beast.
Short of relaxing Section 44 of our constitution to specifically allow for a quota of Scottish public school girls (statistically the cohort least predisposed to bullshit) into our Parliament, the best defence we have is to fire up our bullshit detectors.
It’s time to call bullshit on bullshit.
Next time a politician flashes up on your screen with something to sell, picture him as a 16-year-old kid in a boater hat and blazer and remember, there’s a good chance he’s a bullshitter.
Hayley Sorensen is the Sunday Territorian resident columnist.