ArticleWho or what will you be thinking about this weekend as you pause between hallowed cardboard screens – pencil poised over your ballot paper – wrestling that giant white one and trying not to misplace the little green one – casting your compulsory vote in this year’s federal election?
Will you be thinking of the parties and their policies? Of Dutton and Albanese, or your local candidates? Of the issues closest to your heart, or who you dislike the least? Of who was pushiest and who was friendliest of the people handing you a “how to vote” card on your way in? Or mainly of your imminent democracy sausage?
To put it another way – a way that, just for a moment, turns the scrutiny of an election campaign from the politicians back on ourselves – will you be thinking mainly of yourself, or of others?
The common wisdom is that you appeal to the Aussie voter primarily via our hip pockets – in what has been called a “cost-of-living” election especially. Will I be financially better off – probably only ever so slightly, but every bit certainly counts – under this government or that one? Voting then becomes simply a matter of figuring out whose policies are most beneficial for my group (workers, parents, retirees, students, high-income earners, battlers), with the optional further step of weighing the likelihood they will actually deliver what they promise.
It’s largely a strength of the Australian electorate that we aren’t readily swayed by grand rhetoric, by sweeping patriotic language out of the mouths of politicians. We’re too pragmatic, and too alert to the absurd. But shouldn’t there be more to the exercise of our democratic rights than money? Is an election functionally just one big bribe?
If we think of the nation as a very large household, one way to think about this is to ask: who carries the mental load for Australia?
Bear with me. You know the mental load: it’s the extra burden carried, usually by one member of a household more than the others, of anticipating the needs of the various members and organising for everything to run smoothly. It’s remembering that we need toilet paper, and who has soccer training when, and what social engagements we’ve said yes to this month, and when the car rego is due.
If you’re the one asking, “What’s for dinner?”, it’s likely that you are not the person carrying the bulk of the mental load. With Mother’s Day coming up just after the election, let’s be frank here: that person is still, in most cases, Mum.
What (usually) Mum is doing in carrying the invisible mental load is essentially coordinating the big picture of the family’s common life. The household can largely be said to have a common life at all because someone is thinking about that big picture – not just what they need and when, but what everyone needs and wants, what everyone’s commitments and worries are, how everyone’s schedule fits together and the logistics of making everything work. It’s invisible because the rest of the family generally only notice how many balls are in the air when one (or more) gets dropped and everything grinds to a halt.
If the nation is one big household, then it could be said to function smoothly (when it does) thanks to the people who are not just worrying about their own needs and plans (and hip pockets), but about the big picture – the functional “mums” of Australia.
So who carries the mental load for Australia? Who are our “mums”? When it comes to voting, but also just in everyday life, who is thinking about how to balance and coordinate everyone’s needs and desires, not just their own?
I can think of quite a few “mums” lugging around that national mental load. I think of my friend and colleague Tim Costello, who has spent decades asking politicians to stand up to the gambling lobby, and to stand by our commitment to the world’s poorest through our international aid budget.
I think of Stan Grant, speaking out as the conscience of a nation when it comes to our First Nations people, and being willing to take the flak that comes with that. Of Rosie Batty or Grace Tame, who have turned appalling personal tragedy to sustained efforts to help other victims of domestic violence or sexual assault. I think of another friend, Daniel Principe, who travels around the country speaking to young people – boys in particular – about the hazards of social media and pornography, and inviting them to be their best selves.
I think of people I know who organise dinners for the homeless or playgroups for isolated new mums, who open their homes to women and children fleeing domestic violence or to refugees trying to find their feet in a new country. In our communities, they carry the mental load – some part of it – for more than themselves.
What happens if we bring that kind of mum energy to the ballot box? If we all take up our share of the “mental load” of being a nation, rather than expecting the national “mums” (the activists and advocates, the campaigners and organisers) to shoulder it? Policy announcements often seem to pit us against one another – are you a winner or loser under the proposed change – instead of making a case for why the national household as a whole will be better off, and why we should all care. Why we might want to sacrifice, even, for those whose needs are greater than our own.
As we go to vote on Saturday, let’s not leave the mental load to the “mums” to carry. Australia is our household, and the bigger picture is everyone’s responsibility. The more we ask of ourselves as voters, the more we’ll be asking of our leaders in compassion, empathy, and courage.