The Deciders are Undecided
Undecided voters, election campaigns, political media, and democracy in Australia
Edwina Throsby
A thesis in fulfilment of the requirements of the degree of Doctor of Philosophy
Department of Social Sciences Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences UNSW
February 2018
Acknowledgements
This thesis would not exist without the help and extraordinary generosity of Ariadne Vromen, Rob Hall, and Corin Throsby. Ariadne helped me to formulate and frame my thesis in its early stages, and has been a constant support and invaluable mentor throughout its development. Rob went far beyond the usual avuncular duties, to provide a tuition in statistical analysis which was fascinating, challenging, and fun. Corin turned her comprehensive intelligence and forensic editing skills onto the thesis at several crucial stages, and her thoughtful advice has lifted the work immeasurably.
Also thanks to my supervisors Mark Rolfe, Paul Jones, and David McKnight, who at their points of stewardship throughout this process gave their knowledge, advice, and encouragement. Thanks also to the friends and colleagues who provided useful insights and feedback, especially Alastair Fraser, Andrea Carson, David Nolan, and Simon Jackman. And thanks to my personal support team: the many, many friends along the way who, with their company, wisdom, and friendship, continued to remind me that life is excellent. A special mention to my PhD comrades: Mariam, Emilie, Maia, Holi, Jac, and Faby, who shared and made bearable the special pain of this process in its final stages.
And most especially and massively, thanks to my uniquely qualified and brilliant family: Corin, Colman Dervin, Robin Hughes, David Throsby, and my darling Niamh, for your support, wisdom, advice, humour, proof-reading, patience, delightfulness, and belief. This thesis is dedicated to you five, with eternal admiration, gratitude, and love.
Reproduced with the kind permission of the cartoonist
Table of Contents
Chapter One: Introduction, research design, and method 1 Introduction Research design Method: Voter survey Method: Practitioner interviews
Chapter Two: Undecided voters in the US and UK literature 17 Introduction Undecided voters as an essentially contested concept Ideals of undecided voters in the 19th and early 20th centuries The effect of mid-20th century mass voter surveys Alternative notions of undecided voters Undecided voters and fears for democracy Undecided voters in the 21st century
Chapter Three: Undecided voters in Australia 49 Undecided voters in the Australian literature Undecided voters in Australian mass media Conclusion to Chapters Two and Three
Chapter Four: Undecided voters: new ideas, new typologies 71 Introduction Hypotheses Background: the 2013 Australian federal election Establishing a typology of “voter groups” Demographics of voter groups Attitudes and behaviour of voter groups Media use among voter groups Further analysis of voter groups Discussion Conclusions
Chapter Five: The role of undecided voters in Australian elections 117 Introduction A note on the literature Conceptions of undecided voters Types of undecided voters Busy voters Disaffected voters More sophisticated undecded voters The effect of undecided voters on policy Recognising context and diversity in a changing electorate Conclusion
Chapter Six: Campaigning to undecided voters in Australian elections Introduction 141 Targeting undecided voters Messaging Leaders Polling, data collection, and microtargeting Focus Groups Doorkocking, canvassing and direct mail Advertising The role of instinct Conclusion
Chapter Seven: Undecided voters in an evolving media environment 167 Introduction The mediatisation of politics Politics in an evolving media environment Media diversification and fragmentation The impact of multiple digital platforms on practitioners Audiences, voters and media consumption Social media and other online platforms Conclusion
Chapter Eight: Reconsidering Political Media 201 Introduction Media malaise and hierarchies of media Entertainment and information media Soft news and political knowledge Comedy and satire Leadership, character and the role of emotion in politics Conclusion
Chapter Nine: Undecided voters, citizenship and democracy 233 Introduction Contextualising narratives of democratic decline and crisis Changing ideas of citizenship and engagement Challenging norms of political engagement Online activism and political activity Challenging norms of political knowledge Voter disaffection, partisan dealignment, minor parties, and independents Australian citizens and civic duty Conclusion
Chapter Ten: Conclusion 278 Beyond stereotypes, normative standards, and decline narratives
Appendices 285
References 299
List of Tables and Figures
Table 4.1: Voters in the 2013 Australian federal election by voter group Table 4.2: Voters in the 2013 Australian federal election: partisan and undecided Table 4.3: Commercial news watchers: voter groups Table 4.4: Commercial current affairs watchers: voter groups Table 4.5: ABC watchers: voter groups Table 4.6: SBS watchers: voter groups Table 4.7: 7.30, Four Corners and Q&A watchers: voter groups Table 4.8: 7.30, Four Corners and Q&A and ABC News watchers: voter groups
Table B.1 Political practitioners: roles, parties and gender Table B.2 Media practitioners: roles, mediums, networks and gender Table C.1 Coding schema for the interviews with practitioners Table E.1 Australian free-to-air television networks Table E.2 Television programs included in the Voter Survey
Figure 4.1: Regional distribution: partisan and undecided voters Figure 4.2: Regional distribution: voter groups Figure 4.3: Educational distribution: partisan and undecided voters Figure 4.4: Educational distribution: voter groups Figure 4.5: Gender distribution: partisan and undecided voters Figure 4.6: Gender distribution: voter groups Figure 4.7: Age distribution: partisan and undecided voters Figure 4.9: Interest in politics: partisan and undecided voters Figure 4.10: Interest in politics: voter groups Figure 4.11: Talking about politics: partisan and undecided voters Figure 4.12: Talking about politics: voter groups Figure 4.13: Compulsory voting: partisan and undecided voters Figure 4.14: Compulsory voting: voter groups Figure 4.15: Learning about politics: partisan and undecided voters Figure 4.16: Learning about politics: voter groups Figure 4.17: Knowledge, shadow treasurer: partisan and undecided voters Figure 4.18: Knowledge, shadow treasurer, among voter groups Figure 4.19: Knowledge, environment policy: partisan and undecided voters Figure 4.20: Knowledge, environment policy, among voter groups Figure 4.21: Main media source for politics: partisan and undecided voters Figure 4.22: Main media source for politics: voter groups Figure 4.23: No political programs watched: voter groups Figure 4.24: Use of social media; partisans and undecided voters Figure 4.25: Use of social media: voter groups Figure 4.26: Partitions of voter groups by dominant predictor variables: talking politics and age Figure 4.27: Partitions of voter groups by dominant predictor variables: talking politics, age, watch Q&A Figure 4.28: Lift Curve of voter groups by dominant predictor variables: talking politics, age, watch Q&A Figure 4.29: Clusters of television programs
Chapter One Introduction, research design, and method
The undecided voter is a figure of towering importance in Australian politics. Evoked by both political practitioners and media commentators as the cohort that can win or lose elections, these are the citizens that politicians ignore at their peril (Chaples 1997: 360; Cameron 1973: 275). They are the explicit targets of contemporary Australian election campaigns and yet, despite their influence, undecided voters are not well understood. This is especially true when considering the academic literature, in which – with some exceptions (Mayer 2008a; Milne and Mackenzie 1955; Zaller 2004; Dalton 2013) – undecided voters have not been deeply researched. This is also true in Australia, where scholars tend to deal with undecided voters as part of larger studies into elections, parties, or voters more generally (McAllister 2011: 101-105; Jaensch 1995: 135; Crisp 1965: 160). Despite the fact that “swinging voters”, as well as “undecided”, “floating”, “uncommitted”, “soft” or “target” voters are terms that are used frequently in public discourse and are given a range of meanings by scholars and political practitioners, these meanings are often contradictory. The terms used to describe these sorts of voters can pertain to voter attitudes (“undecided”, “uncommitted”); voter behaviour (“swinging”, “switching”, “floating”); or the relationship of a voter to a party (“independent”, “dealigned”, “soft”). Other terms, those usually favoured by practitioners, are instrumentalist, and refer to the relationship of the voter to the election campaign (“gettable”, “target”, “persuadable”).1
Popular conceptions of undecided voters tend to fall into two archetypes. One is of a free-minded citizen, who dutifully informs him or herself of civic structures, policies, political candidates and events, and makes a carefully reasoned decision free from the smear of partisan bias (Dole 1891: 127; Chapin 1912: 240; Bryce 1929: 48; Rosenblum 2008: 133). This archetype was more common before
1 The division of the definitions of undecided voters into groups pertaining to voter attitude, behaviour, relationship to party and relationship to election campaign was suggested by one of the examiners of this thesis.
1 surveys of mass voters in the mid-twentieth-century found an unexpected link between partisans and political engagement (Lazarsfeld, Berelson and Gaudet 1944; Campbell, Gurin and Miller 1954). This finding contributed to the development of the second archetype: a citizen so unconcerned with the political direction of society that she or he pays little or no attention to politics, preferring to consume only entertaining media, thereby remaining deliberately ignorant (Converse 1962: 578-579; Shadegg 1964: 12; Cameron in Mills 1986: 22). The latter has evolved into a pervasive stereotype, which has influenced attitudes towards political media, political engagement, citizenship, and democracy itself.
The thought that the citizens who care the least about their country’s governance also hold the most power in deciding elections engenders a fear that democracy is not functioning, as its citizens are failing to perform their democratic functions adequately (Hartcher 2011b: 7; Kelley 1983; Bennett 1996: 166; Megalogenis 2010: 3). This fear finds particularly fertile soil in Australia, as compulsory voting compels even the most ignorant and unconcerned to vote (Brennan and Hill 2014: 83ff). It is further compounded by an increase in the number of undecided voters in Australia (Bean et al. 2014: B1) and in other developed democracies (Mayer 2008a), where factors including the fragmentation of traditional social structures around class and religion (Manning 2014: 222); an increased focus on the politics of non-material issues such as environmentalism and social justice (Inglehart 1981, 1971; Stanyer 2007: 9; Dalton 2000: 932); falling levels of political trust (Crosby 2016; Heath and Topf 1987: 58); and voter disaffection (Hay 2007; Norris 2001: 237), are all contributing to an increase in partisan dealignment (McAllister and Cameron 2014: 14).
The late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries have brought a renewed anxiety about the health of democracy. So extreme is this anxiety, it is often framed as a crisis (Macedo and Alex-Assensoh 2005). Concerns of democratic decline usually focus on either the behaviour of citizens (Skocpol 2003), the standard of political media (Tanner 2011), or both (Putnam 2000). The usual hallmarks of this so- called crisis are a lack of trust in government and civic institutions (Fiorina 1999), a decline in political engagement, interest and knowledge (Skocpol and Fiorina 1999), and an increase in voter cynicism and disaffection (Bennett 1998). Culprits
2 for these issues are sought among government and economic structures, political leaders, media, and the behaviour of voters themselves. Studies of voter engagement and knowledge tend to focus on issues such as voter turnout, political party and civic organisational membership, knowledge of civic systems, and participation in political activities such as protests. By these traditional measures, substantial proportions of citizens are found to be deficient (McAllister 2011). However, these sorts of indicators are generationally and historically specific, and fail to acknowledge changing cultural norms, especially those involving media engagement and use.
This thesis critically evaluates these shifting norms by examining three major, inter-related themes:
• undecided voters and the role that they play in determining what is regarded as ideal (or non-ideal) citizenship; • the political “machine”, encompassing election campaigns and the construction of political discourse by elite political practitioners; and • political media, with focus on how they are responding to major changes in communications technologies, how this is affecting the way political media is created and consumed, and how this relates to judgements about the effectiveness of political media to inform voters.
These themes all play into ideas around democracy and democratic function, and all feed notions of democratic decline. Negative stereotypes around undecided voters inform election campaigns and a political discourse that elevates a notion of an uninterested and ignorant citizen. Citizens who do not participate in civic activities such as joining political parties, civic groups, or political protests, or who fail to inform themselves about politics through the consumption of appropriately serious media, are thought to contribute to this perceived crisis (Putnam 2000). Media which cover politics with a focus on its more “entertaining” aspects, such as scandals or the personalities of leaders, are also blamed, with soft news and satire, as well as news created for online platforms, held particularly culpable (Postman 1986). Concerns about political media which
3 inadequately inform citizens then circle back to a notion of an undecided voter, ill-prepared or incapable of making an informed vote.
While scholars have written about low levels of citizen participation and knowledge, the dumbing down of media, media malaise, and the effects of all of these factors on democracy, before this study there has been little thinking about how the centrality of undecided voters in election campaigning and political communication has influenced the ways these key concepts are regarded, how they all relate to one another, and how they have contributed to anxiety around a perceived democratic decline.
Undecided voters have long held great influence in political life, both in Australia and other developed democracies, however in recent times they have been thrust into even greater prominence. The 2016 election of President Donald Trump in the United States, and the decision of the United Kingdom to leave the European Union in the same year, have given fresh urgency to fears that democracy does not necessarily deliver results that are in the best interest of the majority. Moreover, these volatile elections have come at a time when the rapidly evolving media environment – with the shift from analogue to digital, the birth of the social internet, and the development of mobile technology – are all having unprecedented effects on the practice of politics in terms of communication and participation (Bell and Taylor 2017). Media and societal changes are having profound effects on the context within which politics is conducted (McNair 2006; Prior 2007: 3), and these changes are altering the protocols and norms surrounding political campaigns, political media and what is expected of citizens (Stanyer 2007: 6; Schudson 2002; Dalton 2009a). The role of undecided voters, and their ability to acquit their civic duty responsibly, has been central to commentary during this period of political upheaval (Payne 2016; Wren 2016; Hessan 2016). Although the focus of this thesis is on Australia, its findings offer an enriched perspective on these global events.
In order to contribute a detailed understanding of contemporary Australian undecided voters, and to assess the validity of concerns about their role in a perceived democratic decline, this thesis asks two key questions:
4
• How are undecided voters in Australia defined and regarded in an evolving political setting, and are these conceptions supported by empirical evidence? • How are notions of undecided voters deployed into larger arguments about democratic health, including the way election campaigns are strategised and run, concerns about citizen participation and knowledge, and the ability of political media to inform the public adequately?
In responding to these aims, this project seeks to establish a clearer and more nuanced picture of undecided voters’ demographic characteristics, their behaviours and attitudes, and their media habits. It seeks to contribute to a better understanding of the ways that undecided voters affect and influence Australian political and civic culture – its elections, popular political discourse, and notions around political engagement, knowledge and media. This thesis critically evaluates the stereotypes surrounding undecided voters, and offers some new perspectives about how they may be considered. A central argument of this thesis is that the key concepts of undecided voters, political engagement, political knowledge and political media are all regarded too narrowly, and are constrained by outdated norms of behaviour that do not reflect a dramatically changed socio- political, technological and media environment. For example, the many platforms afforded by the digitisation of media are yet to be utilised fully in Australian election campaigns, which continue to develop communications strategies that favour free-to-air commercial television. In addition, alternative modes of political media such as light news and entertainment are still frequently regarded as “dumbing down” political debate, and their inclusion in political campaign strategies is a source of anxiety for democratic health (Tanner 2011; Postman 1986). The thesis concludes that a recognition of diversity in voters’ levels of political sophistication, combined with an expansion of what is regarded as political behaviour and political media to incorporate activities that reflect an increasingly mediated environment, would allow for more targeted, nuanced and effective political discourse and election campaigns, and a more inclusive notion of citizenship. These factors would help to address concerns of a democratic crisis. 5
A large body of original data was collected for this study, to address the lack of empirical research about Australian undecided voters. First, a major survey was commissioned. As detailed in the methods section of this chapter, the survey was conducted in the weeks leading up to the 2013 Australian federal election and comprised the responses of close to one and a half thousand citizens. Voters were questioned about their political attitudes and behaviours, as well as the political television programs and online media they consume.
The survey tested a set of hypotheses: that undecided voters cannot be regarded as a homogenous cohort, but rather have a variety of motivations for changing their votes; that they display a range of levels of political interest and knowledge; that they consume a range of types and amounts of political media; and that these factors are inter-related. The survey findings strongly supported all of these hypotheses. The data were utilised in the creation of a new typology of undecided voters, which is outlined below, and adopted throughout this thesis. While there is still a substantial group of undecided voters who conform to the unconcerned, ignorant stereotype, other groups were identified whose decision to change their votes was motivated by more serious consideration, or factors other than a lack of interest or attention.
In addition to the survey, elite interviews with thirty top-level political and media practitioners were conducted. Interviewees included: national secretaries, campaign directors, communication directors and pollsters from the political field; and political journalists, commentators, editors, producers and presenters from the field of media. The political practitioners are the architects of our election campaigns, and their views elucidate the inner workings of the political machine, as well as the attitudes that inform strategic decisions. They provide insider information about research practices and campaign techniques, which give context to the broad themes of undecided voters, elections, use of political media, and democracy more broadly. The media practitioners determine the types of political media consumed in Australia, the themes and ideas pursued, and the media platforms exploited. As such, the two groups are vastly influential in creating the tone, topics and overall nature of political discourse. These interviews provide
6 insight into how the practitioners view undecided voters, and how these views affect their professional practice. Analysis of these interviews takes a meta- perspective on undecided voters: the way they are constructed and understood within public discourse is used as an inductive frame through which a picture of contemporary democratic engagement, elections, and media are developed.
The first section of the thesis places undecided voters into historical and theoretical context, with a comprehensive historical review of the ways they have been theorised about, both internationally and within Australia. Once this bedrock has been established, an updated, contemporary view of undecided voters is provided. Then, the thesis expands to a consideration of the broader socio- political context within which narratives around undecided voters are situated in political campaigns, political media, and broader political discourse. The theoretical underpinnings, the survey data and the interview data continually inter- relate and inform each other throughout the thesis. Similarly, the major arguments built by this thesis – that undecided voters are frequently regarded too narrowly and stereotyped, that these stereotypes are partially created by and inform election campaigns and political discourse, that certain types of “lighter” political media are implicated in the creation of an ignorant citizenry, and that these factors all combine to create a panic about the health of democracy – are impossible to quarantine into entirely discrete chapters or subject areas, as they all interrelate and inform each other.
After the introduction (Chapter One), the following two chapters of the thesis are dedicated to the ways that undecided voters have been defined, described and analysed in academic literature. This serves to locate ideas around undecided voters, which are frequently contradictory, confusing and inconsistent, within a broader historical framework. These chapters prosecute an argument that undecided voters are an ever-changing category, and that the ways that undecided voters are regarded often reflects wider socio-political concerns of the times. As such, they function as an empirical examination of changing and evolving notions and stereotypes around undecided voters. Chapter Two will focus on work in the United States and United Kingdom, which has produced the theoretical bedrock of the literature. Chapter Three will look at the Australian literature, as well as
7 provide a brief overview of the portrayal of undecided voters in contemporary Australian media.
Having charted the definitional terrain, the next chapter proposes a new typology for undecided voters. Chapter Four presents original data collected in the Voter Survey: the national survey of Australian voters. The findings in this survey support the contention that voters can be undecided for several reasons, and that undecided voters differ in motivation, sometimes widely, from election to election. This chapter argues that it is not correct to group undecided voters into a single, homogenous cohort, and offers a new, more diverse typology that is based on what motivates voters to change their votes. It then examines and compares these different types of undecided voters according to demographics, behaviour, knowledge, attitudes, and media consumption. The data suggest that undecided voters are resistant to stereotyping, as they display a range of levels of political sophistication and interest; in doing so the survey findings challenge the conventional image of undecided voters as ignorant, apathetic and self-interested. Just as media consumption is reflective of a citizen’s interest in and knowledge of politics, this chapter finds that the media choices of undecided voters reflect these varying levels of political interest and engagement, with consumption of political media on public broadcasters a significant differentiating factor between undecided voters who are uninterested, and those who are more attentive.
The four basic typologies of undecided voters that are developed in this chapter are used throughout the thesis:
• “Assessors” wait until the very end of the election campaign to make an informed decision about their vote • “Switchers” change their vote before election campaigns, for reasons unconnected to the campaign, and are therefore less influenced by campaigning • “Disaffecteds” have no major party loyalty • “Uninteresteds” do not follow politics and have no strong political opinions or affiliations
8
After establishing the idea that there is substantial diversity among undecided voters, the thesis then considers to what extent this diversity is reflected in contemporary Australian election campaigns. Chapters Five and Six examine the perceived electoral importance of undecided voters – how they are conceived of by political practitioners, and how communications strategies are developed and executed specifically to target them. These chapters argue that political practitioners have a conflicted view of undecided voters: while they acknowledge that there is complexity and diversity within the cohort, practitioners design and oversee election campaigns involving simple, repetitive messages that target a notion of undecided voters based on the reductive stereotype. This is an important tension, as it points to how stereotypes are perpetuated – more nuanced and realistic views of undecided voters, while held by practitioners, are rarely operationalised in election campaigns or media representations, allowing the stereotypes to continue to dominate. Chapter Five focuses on how undecided voters are conceptualised by political campaigners, while Chapter Six looks at the operational aspects of campaigning to them. Drawing from the original interview and survey data, this chapter considers the methods used by contemporary campaigns to inform and mobilise voters, and argues that a more complex view of undecided voters necessitates more complex media and communications strategies.
Using the premise that our political systems are thoroughly mediated, and that media are the primary ways that politics is communicated (Chen 2012: 95; Dahlgren 2009: 81), Chapters Seven and Eight consider the effects on politics of a rapidly and profoundly evolving media environment. Chapter Seven examines how political and media practitioners are adapting to the diversification, multiple platforms and hyper-connectivity provided by digital media. It finds that media professionals are better exploiting the possibilities of new media forms, while acknowledging increased workload, greater competition, industry-wide insecurity, and concerns of declining professional standards. Political professionals are slower to adapt to new technologies. While individually acknowledging the potential of emerging media forms for campaigning, practitioners from the two major parties continue to base election communications strategies on free-to-air
9 commercial television (Young 2011). Risk-aversion, a lack of certainty, and a lack of developed protocols inhibit their use of social media. This conflict, between what practitioners understand in theory and what they’re willing to apply in practice, mirrors the tensions around ideas of undecided voters which are explored in Chapters Four and Five. Chapter Eight considers how media are associated with concerns about democratic health. As new media technologies affect the ways that politics is communicated and experienced, notions around what traditionally constitutes “political media” can be expanded to include new digital platforms, as well as genres such as satire which are increasing in influence and popularity as they can be disseminated more widely (Harrington 2013; Baym and Jones 2013a). Informing these arguments is a critique of normative notions of what sort of media a “good” citizen is expected to consume, and how stereotypical notions of undecided voters are invoked to create anxiety about the types of media which are deemed appropriate for citizens seeking political information.
Synthesising the predominant and inter-related themes of undecided voters, political campaigning and discourse, political media and democratic health that form the basis of the thesis, Chapter Nine contemplates how concerns about undecided voters and political media have been co-opted into broader discourses about the health of democracy. In this chapter, undecided voters, election campaigns, and the role of media in politics, are placed within the “crisis of democracy” debate. This chapter argues that concerns about democracy’s failure are a response to outdated and normative notions of what constitutes key concepts like civic virtue, political media and democracy itself. These notions are examined with a central recognition that the way they are thought about and used requires expansion: undecided voters are a complex, volatile cohort, diverse in motivation and background; there are many ways a good citizen can engage with the politics of his or her society; political information can be obtained from a variety of media sources and genres including light news and entertainment; media themselves can be forums for political activity, education and participation. Further, voter disaffection and partisan dealignment are not automatically signs of disengagement, but can reflect a considered decision to shift from a major party. Chapter Ten concludes the thesis, locating ideas around undecided voters within the current climate of political uncertainty in western democracies. It argues that
10 the expansion of concepts surrounding undecided voters, political media, and citizenship, would have a profound effect on the way campaigns are run, how politics is discussed and presented in media, and how citizens are judged and regarded. This would enable a more optimistic view of contemporary democracy, one which recognises that while it is constantly evolving, it is by no means broken.
Research design
The central aims of this research project are firstly to build a clearer picture of undecided voters in contemporary Australia and, on the basis of these findings, to consider how this cohort of voters relates to the broader themes of electoral politics, political discourse, political engagement and knowledge and political media, thus allowing for reflection upon the health of democracy.
A number of different research methods were required to achieve these aims. It was determined that the starting point for this research needed to be theoretical. As concepts of undecided voters change and evolve over time and stereotypes come and go, a thorough examination of the existing theory and literature concerning undecided voters was required in order to ensure that this research was both original and useful. This review also aided in the broader purpose of the research project, to consider how ideas around undecided voters inform notions of democracy.
The themes of this thesis were explored by reference to empirical data that were collected using an integrated combination of quantitative and qualitative research methods (Ritchie and Lewis 2003: 13-15). The quantitative data set enabled this project to explore attitudes and behaviours of a broad population of Australian voters, and in doing so to establish a new typography. The qualitative data set facilitated a deeper exploration of the ways undecided voters are regarded, represented and deployed by arguments about citizenship and democracy. These two approaches are complementary, enabling this research to combine the methodological rigour of political science with the interpretative depth of media and cultural studies.
11
All human-based empirical research for this project was conducted after receiving ethical clearance from the University of New South Wales: HREC Ref # HC13263.
Method: Voter survey
A quantitative approach was chosen to test the hypotheses that:
• citizens change their votes for a variety of reasons • undecided voters have varying levels of political sophistication, interest, engagement • undecided voters consume different types and amounts of political media, and that • these factors are inter-related
These hypotheses pertain to the Australian electorate as a whole, so questions needed to be asked of a representative sample of voters (Harrison 2001: 40). A survey was commissioned and conducted online by My Opinions, an accredited online panel provider ('My Opinions' 2013). An internet survey was chosen because it was the only option to fall within the budget of this project; there was an additional benefit in that an internet survey does not rely on human researchers, so the results are easily tabulated (Manheim et al. 2008: 151-153).
Ten multiple-choice survey questions were designed to test the hypotheses. These questions can be found in Appendix A. In some cases, open-ended elaboration upon an answer was possible. The data were accompanied by standard demographic information collected from each respondent, including age, gender, region, and level of education. Respondents were given small incentives to complete the survey, in the form of “points”, which were redeemable against a list of consumer items.
12 The survey was in the field from 19-30 August 2013, which corresponded with the final two weeks of the 2013 Australian Federal Election campaign.
There were 1,436 respondents who completed the survey to a satisfactory level. The responses have been weighted according to gender, age and region. When comparing the complete count with the weighted data, it was found that the sample proportions of age within gender fit the population proportions closely and the weighting only made a slight adjustment. As such, all the ChiSquare tests reported in this research are based on unweighted samples and calculated using the “tabulate” function in STATA (StataCorp 2013). The survey data were analysed using univariate and bivariate tabulations supported by a multivariate partitioning algorithm (JMP 2013) used to look for higher-order interactions between specific variables.
Henceforth in this thesis, this survey will be referred to as the Voter Survey: analysis of its findings are reported in Chapter Four, and the top-line findings are contained in Appendix A. Findings are further utilised in Chapters Five, Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine.
Method: Practitioner interviews
While the voter survey was used to obtain a clearer picture of undecided voters and their behaviour and attitudes, this project also sought to address the ways ideas around undecided voters operate within a broader democratic environment. To this end, interviews were conducted with practitioners from within the intersecting fields of politics and media. The interviewees were selected on the basis of their professional histories and knowledge of the research topics (Ritchie and Lewis 2003: 108). Specifically, interview subjects were identified either because they had been directly involved with election campaigning (from the political field), or had been directly involved in the production of political media, in television, newspapers and/or online. As such, they can all be classified as “elite”, which can “be loosely defined as those with close proximity to power or policymaking; the category would include all elected representatives, executive officers of organisations and senior state employees” (Lilleker 2003: 207). Given
13 the positions of the interviewees, and the level of professional expertise that they required in order to be able to impart sophisticated, interesting and relevant material, the sample size was by necessity small (Aberbach, Chesney and Rockman 1975: 3). Potential interviewees were initially contacted via email, with follow-up phone-calls occurring in some cases. Elite interviewing is frequently complicated by problems associated with gaining access to busy professionals and officials (Aberbach and Rockman 2002: 673). However, there was generally good cooperation from interviewees for this project.
Within the political field, targeted interviewees came from the two major parties, the Australian Labor Party (ALP) and the Liberal Party. Participants also included members of the Australian Greens and the National Party. From the political field, only two women were interviewed. This gender imbalance reflects the demographics of senior political campaign professionals in Australia (Mills 2014a: 269). While the media field offered slightly more gender diversity, this was not the case for race: all the interviewees across politics and media were from a white European background. To preserve the anonymity of the interviewees, they were coded using a simple schema, in which PP refers to “political practitioner” and MP to “media practitioner”. In the case of the political practitioners, the party with which they are aligned was indicated by LIB (Liberal), ALP (Australian Labor Party), GRE (Australian Greens), or NAT (Nationals). For both media and political practitioners, numbers were assigned at random. Therefore, PP-LIB-10, for example, denotes a political practitioner who is associated with the Liberal Party. All of these codes, along with basic professional information about each practitioner, are contained in Appendix B. They are used throughout the thesis in reporting the results of interviews.
Interviews were conducted at locations of the interviewees’ choosing. This resulted in a variety of locations, from private offices, homes, and workplaces to public coffee shops and bars. In a few cases, where the geographical locations of the interviewees made face-to-face interviews impossible, so they were conducted over the telephone. All interviews were recorded digitally, then manually transcribed. Due to the small sample size, it was determined that computer- facilitated coding, using programs like NVivo, was not appropriate. Rather, the
14 transcripts were read multiple times and then coded manually. The coding schema was developed after several initial interviews had been conducted, and was based on commonly emerging themes (see Appendix C). The coding categories were monitored and updated as the interview process continued, with new sub-themes being added as necessary (Aberbach and Rockman 2002: 674).
The interviews were semi-structured, and conducted using open-ended questions, which were deemed to provide the most flexibility in the interview, and the greatest richness of data (Berry 2002: 679). A sample outline for the interviews can be found in Appendix D. In tone, the interviews were what Ritchie and Lewis describe as “in-depth”, a style that emphasises listening, curiosity, careful preparation, the preparedness of the interviewer to receive rather than demonstrate knowledge, and the establishment of a rapport between interviewer and interviewee. The goal was to establish an “interview which is flexible, interactive and generative” (Ritchie and Lewis 2003: 142). There were no attempts to “catch out” subjects, to provoke declarative or controversial claims, or to present one interview in opposition to another. Rather, in conducting these interviews, an understanding of motivations, perceptions and opinions of the interviewees was sought, in order to gain an overall picture of the way that undecided voters are regarded, deployed and portrayed. It is not suggested that the responses of the interviewees were “establishing ‘the truth’, in a crude, positivist manner” (Richards 1996: 200); the information generated from them is the result of subjective reflection. In some cases, answers were given in the context of professional decisions and practices that the practitioners were motivated to defend. Furthermore, among the political elites, there was in some cases a caution about revealing professional secrets. Jeffrey Berry observes in relation to elite interviews with professional subjects: “They’re talking about their work and, as such, justifying what they do. That’s no small matter” (Berry 2002: 680). As the focus of the qualitative aspect of this project is on attitudes to and representations of undecided and undecided voters, rather than on attempting to discover who they actually “are”, this subjectivity is an advantage, rather than a problem for the research.
15 The three strands of this study – the theoretical, the quantitative and the qualitative – are triangulated in order to create a multifaceted project within which undecided voters and their role in Australian contemporary politics, political discourse, media and democracy can be comprehensively explored.
16 Chapter Two Undecided voters in the US and UK literature
Given their perceived political importance, there have been remarkably few academic studies that focus on the undecided voter. Most of the scholarly consideration of the subject is secondary to studies with different focuses, for example a single election, electoral turnout, partisanship and polarisation, or voter behaviour more generally. Much of the writing about undecided voters has been published outside of the academic context, for example by journalists and political commentators working for mass media outlets, or by pollsters and practitioners working for political parties. This and the following chapter will consider all these types of texts, with the aim of charting a history of how ideas and stereotypes around undecided voters have developed in academic discourse in Australia, the United States and United Kingdom; and how these conceptions have evolved over time.
In popular, media-driven commentary, which can lack the rigour of academic studies, there is a dominant stereotype of undecided voters. They are regarded as electorally vital, and therefore worth canvassing and targeting, but they fail to conform to a notion of a virtuous and responsible ideal citizen. Frequently they are described as ignorant, selfish and uninterested. This image is supported in academic literature, especially by the very influential survey-driven research that came out of the United States in the middle of the twentieth century, when political scientists such as Paul Lazarsfeld and Angus Campbell found correlations between strongly held partisanship and high levels of knowledge, engagement and interest; these findings have been cited and reflected in subsequent studies in Australia and Britain (Lazarsfeld, Berelson and Gaudet 1944; Campbell, Gurin and Miller 1954; Milne and Mackenzie 1958). However, this thesis will argue that just as party attachments change, ideas around citizenship, participation and civic virtue evolve, so should conceptions of undecided voters develop and adapt.
17 More than a century of literature has formed not only scholarly tradition but also a broader context for understanding, delineating and discussing the subject; this has fed into popular discourse which has, in turn, helped to develop and perpetuate stereotypes. Similarly, broadly held ideas around political parties, democracy, and media, have informed and affected the ways in which undecided voters have been understood. The following literature will be reviewed with an awareness that it not only serves to create, but also to reflect, changing and evolving attitudes.
The task of developing a clear picture of undecided voters is complicated by a complete lack of consensus within the literature about how they are defined. Scholars have used a variety of words and terms – often interchangeably and with a variety of connotations and evaluations – to describe voters who change their mind between elections, who lack a firm commitment to a political party, or who are potentially able to be persuaded by any side during an election campaign. Terms like independent, undecided, switching, swinging, soft, persuadable and floating voters may be used synonymously by one writer, and be given clear and distinct meanings by another. Different studies use different methods to reach different conclusions, which are then described using the same term.
Chapters Two and Three of this thesis form a pair, and chart the complex definitional terrain around undecided voters. Chapter Two will look at the influential North American literature, as this is where the bulk of the work around the topic has occurred and where the foundations for the ways undecided voters are understood have been established. British literature will also be considered. Chapter Three will explore the way ideas around undecided voters exist in the Australian context, by looking at the academic literature, which is very influenced by that from America and Britain. It will also offer a brief overview of the ways undecided voters are figured in contemporary Australian mass media. The aim of these chapters is not to settle on a firm definition, nor to declare one definition the “correct” one. Similarly, this thesis will use the relatively neutral term of “undecided” voters to denote a very broad definition of undecided voters: those citizens who changed or considered changing their votes between elections. In exploring the definitional confusion around undecided voters, and arguing that this lack of clarity both creates and reflects confusion around the concept of
18 undecided voters, this research endeavours to provide a meta-perspective on the way that notions of undecided voters have been measured, defined, described and deployed over time. It examines how various evaluative judgments and stereotypes have become particularly dominant; and a broader consideration of how undecided voters are understood in contemporary Australia.
Undecided voters as an essentially contested concept
Notions and terms around undecided voters evolve and change over time. Different conceptions of undecided voters reflect ideological positions that come in and out of fashion, and evolving methods of measuring these cohorts also affect changes in the way they are considered. In this way, the notion of undecided voters as an electoral cohort can be regarded as an “essentially contested concept” (Gallie 1955). This describes an idea which is, on the surface, commonly understood, and appears frequently in public discourse. However, an essentially contested concept is invested with a variety of different and often contradictory meanings, to the point where not only is it impossible to agree on one standard definition, but the arguments around the definition become incorporated in the meaning of the word or concept; the arguments themselves provide an ever- fluctuating context for the concept, and help to define it (Connolly 1983: 11).
The various parties arguing their own versions of the concept are invested in the validity of their own versions, and “each party continues to defend its case with what it claims to be convincing arguments, evidence, and other forms of justification” (Gallie 1955: 168). Arguments can arise over the criteria for the concept, especially if it is discussed in terms that are subject to dispute. A prime example of this is democracy, which is often discussed with terms that themselves are open to a variety of slants and interpretations: liberalism, equality, participation, virtue, and justice. An argument over a concept can continue over not only the denotation of the concept, but also over its application to a particular situation, person, or group. Further, essentially contested concepts tend to comprise a number of different ideas and evaluations. For example, an undecided voter, when considered in the abstract, may be regarded as strong-minded or politically feeble, depending on the context and values that inform the definition.
19 Different people may argue either way, depending on their ideology, perspective, or purpose. So, a third area of disagreement might arise that reflects the social attitudes attached to a concept, which could convey approval or disapproval. The notion of a strong-minded, independent undecided voter is much more positive than that of an uninterested and lazy one. Such smaller examples can then feed back into bigger discourses: if undecided voters are figured as strong-minded, there is less anxiety about the perilous state of democracy than if they are regarded as politically ignorant and apathetic. This layering of ideas onto a concept has been called a “cluster concept” (Connolly 1983: 14). Implied in the notion of essentially contested concepts is a sense that there is a normative standard of the concept, an ideal version (which cannot exist in reality), a way things pertaining to this concept “ought to be” (Vanedenberg 2000: 4). When considering an essentially contested concept, therefore, the purpose is not to attempt to settle on one agreed definition, but to acknowledge the location of the term within historical context, and recognise its contestability (Skinner 2002: 177- 178).
Ideals of undecided voters in the 19th and early 20th centuries
Views of undecided voters loosely correlate with views of political parties. In eras when parties were regarded with suspicion, like during the latter part of the nineteenth century in America, those who were untied to a political party tended to be regarded more favourably. The chronicler of early-nineteenth-century North American social and political attitudes, Alexis de Tocqueville, famously described political parties as “a necessary evil” (Tocqueville 1956). The Methodist minister and popular ethicist Charles Fletcher Dole, writing later in the nineteenth century, saw the virtue of independence as implying a courage and responsibility that transcends the ephemera of party-political concerns:
As on the playground, some do not care always to go with the crowd, or even prefer to be by themselves. Such as these, who think for themselves, and dare to stand alone, make the Independents in politics. They are likely to prefer the good of their country to the success of their party. They will not act with their party, or will leave it, if it is wrong. If the other party
20 changes, as parties sometimes change, and advocates measures that they believe in; if they change their own minds as sensible men sometimes must; or if the other party puts forward better candidates; of if a new party arises, the independent voters are willing to act wherever they believe they can best secure the public welfare (Dole 1891: 127).
Voters at this time were cast as responding effectively to problems with political parties, so it was the parties, not the voters, who were seen to be responsible for increased political instability. Writing in 1898, the essayist and future president of Harvard, A. Lawrence Lowell observed that “the tendency of late years to a change of party at each presidential election is a matter of common observation and has been likened to the swing of a pendulum” (Lowell 1898: 70), and theorised that it was due in part to an increase in the responsibilities of government, which:
[…] have led people to expect, and the parties to promise, more than any government can perform. The hopes that cannot be fulfilled lead naturally to disappointment, and the public, which always clamors for a scapegoat, throws the blame upon the party in power, only to move around again in the same old circle (ibid: 95-96).
The idea that electoral volatility was an expression of perfectly rational voter dissatisfaction with parties, and by extension governments, was a recurring theme throughout the next few decades. Writing on the topic in 1912, sociologist F. Stuart Chapin describes a swing voter who conforms very much to the independent ideal, in which intelligence is directly linked to the decision to change one’s vote:
It can be concluded that the increasing variability of popular vote at presidential elections is real evidence of increasing independence in voting. Intelligent political action seems to be on the increase in approximately the ratio shown by the increasing variabilities of the popular vote in so far as it is evidence of increasing independence of
21 political action shows a growing impatience with the restraints of political tradition (Chapin 1912: 240).
Only a few years later, Arthur Millspaugh also conceived of electors who are able to bring a critical faculty to bear on the performance of their political leaders, writing that they are “taught to expect something concrete and special, and are usually doomed to be half-satisfied or wholly disappointed” (Millspaugh 1918: 234). This disappointment leads to what Millspaugh calls “irregular” voting. He makes the point that he has chosen the term “irregular” over “independent”, because the latter has “moral and intellectual connotation[s]”, whereas the term irregular “has the merit of carrying neither praise nor blame” (ibid: 232). This search for a term that is free of judgement to describe those who change their vote is an early indication in the literature that notions of undecided voters may attach themselves to prejudices. Millspaugh also regards the success of single-issue platforms in affecting the political agenda as demonstrating that political parties are not always necessary for “the work of organising and expressing public opinion”, citing the female suffrage movement and prohibition as contemporary examples (ibid: 232).
In the United Kingdom, anti-party sentiment was also hand in hand with positive figurations of the independent voter. The British academic and politician James Bryce argued that the “Model Citizen […] will try and comprehend the main issues of policy, bringing to them an independent and impartial mind, which thinks first not of his own, but of the general interest” (Bryce 1929: 48). According to Bryce’s ideal, any partisan leanings should be examined regularly, and each election brings with it an opportunity to reconsider one’s party’s performance in order to realign if it is found lacking. These attitudes to voters were reflective of Bryce’s attitudes to political parties, as he was influenced by the late nineteenth-century American group the Mugwumps, whose members considered themselves to be loftily above the petty squabbles of party politics (Schudson 2002: 338).
During the first decades of the twentieth century in Britain and the United States, electoral volatility was not regarded as indicative of a fundamental problem with
22 democratic function, but rather a sign of its health. Similarly, the electors whose changing votes created the fluctuations in governments, were viewed not only as independently-minded, but also as model citizens. For example, an essay from 1936 observed a causal relationship between independent voting and frequent changes in government:
Steadfastness to a party is often cried as being contrary to the conduct of a good citizen, who is supposed to be independent enough to think out the merits of the candidates and their platforms and, hence, to choose on the basis of values rather than to vote blindly the party label no matter what the issue or who the candidate (Ogburn and Jaffe 1936: 186).
Overall, there is little ambiguity in the conception of undecided voters in this period. They were seen as responsible for a healthy electoral volatility, which was a result of their refusal to mindlessly toe a party line, and which in itself was held to reveal an admirable critical faculty and an ability to see through the dubious machinations of party politics.
The effect of mid-20th century mass voter surveys
The dominant notion of the undecided voter as admirably independent, well- informed and democratically responsible was to suffer a massive blow in the mid twentieth century, from the findings of the first mass surveys of voter attitudes and behaviour. The first recorded question about undecided voters in a public poll was posed by George Gallup in 1937, who asked voters whether they had “changed their vote choice after they mailed in their ballot”. Six percent had (Jones 2008: 32), however, this group were not examined any further, nor subjected to any additional questioning about their motivations for changing their vote.
The first in-depth analysis of survey-driven data was made shortly after Gallup’s poll, when Paul Lazarsfeld, Bernard Berelson and Hazel Gaudet oversaw an unprecedentedly large study of the behaviour of voters. Two thousand four hundred citizens of Erie County, Ohio, were interviewed between May and
23 October in 1940, with questions focussing on the ways in which they reached their voting decisions, and the results were published as The People’s Choice: How the Voter Makes up His Mind in a Presidential Campaign (1944). Lazarsfeld and his colleagues defined “party-changers” (or sometimes “cristallizers”) as “the people whose votes still remained to be definitely determined during the last stages of the campaign, the people who could swing an election during those last days, [who were] available to the person who saw them last before Election Day.” However, in examining these voters more closely, Lazarsfeld made a discovery that was to revolutionise the way that undecided voters were regarded:
The notion that the people who switch parties during the campaign are mainly the reasoned, thoughtful, conscientious people who were convinced by the issues of the election is just plain wrong. Actually, they were mainly just the opposite (Lazarsfeld, Berelson and Gaudet 1944: 69).
Far from being weak-minded followers of prescribed dogma, those with strong partisan sentiment were found to be more interested, more opinionated, more active in the campaign and more likely to be exposing themselves to campaign- related media (ibid: 43). Those who did not know how they would vote, on the other hand, were far less likely to be attending to the election campaign: “In other words, the group which the campaign manager is presumably most eager to reach – the as-yet undecided – is the very group which is less likely to read or listen to his propaganda” (ibid: 124).
That these findings contained ideas of undecided voters that had not been widely considered before is sharply underscored in the preface to the second edition of The People’s Choice, which included data collected during the 1944 election campaign and was published in 1948:
In the 1940 study there was some indication that the party changers were the more indifferent voters. This finding was an unexpected one, for political experts have frequently asserted that, during a campaign, the more intelligent and concerned voter will shift his allegiance from one candidate to another as he learns more about their platforms, and as such
24 he is better able to appraise their qualification to deal with the foreign and domestic situations which arrive. Because the relationship between party changers and indifference was unexpected, the plan of the 1940 study did not make adequate provisions for covering it. This was corrected in the 1944 study (Lazarsfeld, Berelson and Gaudet 1948: xxix-xxx).
A decade after the publication of The People’s Choice, Lazarsfeld collaborated with Bernard Berelson and William McPhee on a second major study of voter behaviour. Voting develops the earlier theories around the characteristics of the non-partisan voter, with the finding that “Stability in vote is characteristic of those interested in politics and instability of those not particularly interested” (1954: 20). Voting then influenced subsequent editions of The People’s Choice. Most voters, the authors conclude, spend more time informing themselves of which cars or homes to purchase, than of whom they want to serve as their president (ibid: 308). However, the authors note that not all undecided voters are uninterested and ignorant. They developed the idea of the “cross-pressured” voter – whose political requirements cannot be satisfied by one candidate or party and who must therefore weigh up the pros and cons based on more than one key issue (ibid: 19ff; 310ff). This notion remains extremely influential, and useful when considering that undecided voters are a diverse and volatile group.
Also in 1954, Angus Campbell and his collaborators published the first of their two major, survey-based studies into voter behaviour. The Voter Decides was the results of surveys taken around the 1948 and 1952 presidential elections (Campbell, Gurin and Miller 1954). The framing of Campbell’s question to determine political identification has endured in political polling to the present day: “Generally speaking, do you usually think of yourself as a Republican, a Democrat, an independent, or what?” A follow up question for those who answered “independent” asked which party the respondent felt closer to. Those who did not lean either way were termed “independents”, with their slightly more partisan compatriots termed “Independent Republican” or “Independent Democrat”. These two groups became known as “leaners” (ibid: 90-91). Campbell elaborates on the characteristics of the independents in his later work, The
25 American Voter (Campbell 1960) in a profile that recalls Lazarsfeld’s undecided voter:
Far from being more attentive, interested and informed, independents tend as a group to be somewhat less involved in politics. They have somewhat poorer knowledge of the issues, their image of the candidates is fainter, their interest in the campaign is less, their concern over the outcome is relatively slight, and their choice between competing candidates, although it is indeed made later in the campaign, seems much less to spring from discoverable evaluations of the elements of national politics (ibid: 143).
Campbell’s findings align with those of Lazarsfeld and his colleagues, and, combined, these survey-driven views heralded a paradigm shift in the way that undecided voters were conceived: the image of them as lacking in political interest, knowledge and engagement, has dominated scholarship and public discourse since.
That the survey-driven research and findings of Lazarsfeld and Campbell marked a transition in the way that undecided voters were discussed and regarded is evident in a scholarly article published in 1952. Writing in The American Political Science Review, the political scientist and Democrat politician Samuel Eldersveld sought clarity in what he regarded as a confused scholarship regarding undecided voters; one marked by “unsatisfactory techniques and the generally unsystematic nature of our enquiries”, which resulted in “many hunches, informative guesses and even dogmatic generalizations [being] articulated about the phenomenon of independent voting” (Eldersveld 1952: 734). While admiring “the survey tool” as valuable, Eldersveld also criticises the reliance of either self-identification or split-ticket voting, as the markers of independence. “It appears,” writes Eldersveld, “that it may be a socially more respectable response to call oneself an ‘independent’ than a ‘partisan’” (ibid: 737). Using an aggregation of data collected by Campbell and Gallup, Eldersveld found that demographic features of independents did not conform to any particular pattern, although he did observe that “the least-educated were most likely to vote straight and consistently partisan” (ibid: 751). He does not consider political interest or knowledge as a
26 factor in independent of partisan-leaning voting. He does, however, make a concluding point which has not lost any relevance today: “Now it is time to realize that independence is a complex of behavior patterns and attitudes, and to study it as such” (ibid: 753).
Anthony Downs also seeks greater complexity among undecided voters, while finding a relationship between undecided voters and knowledge. In An Economic Theory of Democracy, he divides “uncertain” voters into three categories: “baffleds”, are those who “have not made up their minds”; “quasi-informed passives” are leaning towards a party but are not definite; and “quasi-informed neutrals” are voters who have “reached the tentative conclusion that there is no significant difference between the present parties or between this government and the preceding ones” (Downs 1957: 85). Uncertain voters will all inform themselves to a minimum level, except for the baffleds, who will remain uncertain.
The idealised conception of the independent voter is a particularly American one, playing into notions of republican freedom and self-reliance (Petrocik 2009: 563). However, discourses around political knowledge and civic virtue in relation to partisanship were also occurring in the United Kingdom throughout the mid twentieth century. But while much of this scholarship engages with similar principles developed and utilised by American researchers, the use of the term “independent” is much less dominant. Instead, British scholars use a variety of terms, including “floating voters”, “changers” and, according to an opinion piece in The Economist, “unreliables” (1955). Most influential in the mid-century British literature were R.S. Milne and H.C. Mackenzie, who collaborated on two major studies of voter behaviour in Britain, and from these studies wrote specifically about “floating voters” (1955; 1958). The first of these considerations came out of a study the pair conducted on the Bristol district elections in 1951. In a paper called “The Floating Vote”, they complain that the statistical size of the floating vote “varies greatly according to its definition […]. The imprecise use of the term ‘floating vote’ is therefore liable to lead to confusion, since different persons may interpret it in different senses” (Milne and Mackenzie 1955: 67). The paper considers whether floating voters should include those who change between
27 voting and abstention between two elections, and suggests it might be strategically useful to also include those who seriously consider changing their vote, even if they eventually do not. The authors make no attempt to categorise floating voters by demographic characteristics, nor to draw any links between floating and any other types of voter behaviour or political attitudes.
Collaborating on a study focussed on a marginal seat in Bristol around the 1955 General Election, the pair once again lamented the lack of definitional clarity around the term “floating voter”, suggesting that “perhaps the lightness of the term is to some degree responsible for encouraging its casual use” (Milne and Mackenzie 1958: 36). With a bigger data set of 528 voters, gathered from face to face interviews conducted by student volunteers, Milne and Mackenzie were able to draw distinctions between types of voters. “Waverers” were voters who expressed an early intention to change their vote but ended up staying with the same party. “Changers” moved from not voting to voting between the 1951 and 1955 elections, although the authors point out that they “differ from the rest of the electorate in no important respect” (ibid: 86). “Floaters”, a term that, ironically, Milne and Mackenzie themselves fail to clearly define but seem to deploy as an umbrella term for all non-partisans, are found to have “lower than average interest” in the election and expose themselves to less “propaganda” (ibid: 104). Referring back to the studies of Lazarsfeld and Campbell, they locate themselves at the pivotal moment when old notions of undecided voters are necessarily cast aside in the face of data-driven evidence:
Until a few years ago the main charge of lack of political knowledge and interest on the part of the main body of the electors might have been conceded, but at the same time it might have been claimed that the floating voters were the saving grace of the system. The mass of voters might be rooted in apathy or prejudice, but the floating voters, who after all […] often really ‘decided’ the result of the elections, were quite different. They balanced the records and promises of the parties at the margin, and, sitting on the critical part of the seesaw, transferred their weight effectively at election times. Unfortunately, the evidence of previous surveys has shown that this picture was not true to life. The “voluntary” floaters tend to be
28 below the average in a political sense […and] compare unfavourably with the other electors (ibid: 191-192, emphasis in original).
In their conclusion, however, Milne and Mackenzie acknowledge that there were floaters in their sample who were also “opinion leaders”. These voters informed others in their circle about the election, and thus performed the informative function in the two-step flow model proposed first in The People’s Choice, and then developed further in a collaboration between Lazarsfeld and Elihu Katz (Katz and Lazarsfeld 1955). This theory holds that many voters derive their political information from a friend or relative – known as an “opinion leader” – who has obtained it from mass media, rather than consuming that media source themselves (Katz 1957). Consideration of two-step flow led Milne and Mackenzie to wonder whether “in a larger sample it might be possible to identify ‘illiterate’ floaters, ‘intellectual’ floaters, and perhaps even other clearly defined groups?” (Milne and Mackenzie 1958: 197-198). While their data broadly correlated with the American findings in that they suggested that undecided voters were also uninformed, the authors also allowed for a model of “floater” who was more akin to the politically thoughtful and independently-minded ideal.
A few years later, another British survey also found evidence supporting the contention that undecided voters were reasonably well-informed. Collecting interview data with voters from West Leeds and Pudsey around the 1959 General Election, political communications scholars Joseph Trenaman and a young Denis McQuail set out to investigate whether the fact that the election was to be widely televised for the first time would have an effect on voters’ decision making. They were explicitly interested in undecided voters:
The ultimate aim in political propaganda is to influence voting behaviour by making converts, confirming wavering supporters, and informing new voters, and the relative success of one party’s intensive campaigning should become apparent in a swing to the party concerned (Trenaman and McQuail 1961: 123).
29 Trenaman and McQuail identified a group they called “changers”, who altered their votes in some way between the 1955 and 1959 elections. This cohort accounted for 27% of the total sample. They then divided the group into three categories, the “non-voters”, including abstainers (10%), the “don’t knows” (10.5%) and the “inter-party changers” (8%). The “don’t knows” conform to the notion of undecided voters as being outside of the political process, similar to that proposed by Lazarsfeld and Campbell. The inter-party changers, however, tended in the opposite direction, and “are quite likely to be politically informed and not below average in their interest and involvement in politics […] these changers brought to the campaign a higher initial interest and awareness of political affairs” (ibid: 220).
Also in 1961, a little-known Dutch political scientist, Hans Daudt, published a largely overlooked study, Floating Voters and the Floating Vote: A Critical Analysis of American and English Election Studies, Daudt looked at the findings of Lazarsfeld, Campbell, Milne and Mackenzie, in an attempt to assess their views of undecided voters. Defining floating voters as those who “do not make the same choice at two successive elections” (Daudt 1961: 7), he does not attempt to add any significant analysis of why people might change their votes, being satisfied simply to demonstrate that they do. However, Daudt does make the important and useful point that while floating voters exist as a significant electoral group, they resist internal classification; rather, they form:
[…] a definite group, consistent in its inconsistency […] It has been demonstrated that a social or psychological attribute by means of which floaters can be distinguished from consistent voters or non-voters has not yet been discovered (ibid: 160).
In his 1962 article, “Information Flow and Stability of Partisan Attitudes”, Philip Converse considers and expands upon the still relatively new idea that there is a link between political knowledge, political engagement and partisan attitudes. He identifies three groups of voters: the heavily partisan, who are keen consumers of political media, but unlikely to be influenced by messages that differ from their own views; those who are almost completely disengaged from campaigning,
30 whose views are unlikely to change as they won’t be exposed to any information that would cause them to; and the floating voters, who pay passing attention to political communications, and are not sufficiently partisan as to be immune to them (Converse 1962: 578). Converse notes the importance of this undecided cohort, but observes that their disengagement makes them difficult to communicate with:
Not only is the electorate as a whole quite uninformed, but it is the least informed members within the electorate who seem to hold the critical “balance of power”, in the sense that alternations in governing party depend disproportionately on shifts in their sentiment […] “shifting” or “floating” voters tend to be those whose information about politics is relatively impoverished (ibid: 578-579).
What Converse fails to address in his article is the possibility that this group may change their vote from election to election, based on a range of factors other than exposure to campaigning. However, in terms of political communication, Converse identifies the possibility for a paradox, the threat of which continues to preoccupy political practitioners: the people whom campaigners most want to reach might not be paying attention. Converse recognises that not all floating voters conform to what has become, by the 1960s, the accepted norm of the low- information voter, nor do they have the monopoly on political ignorance: “There are very highly informed voters […] who shift parties at occasional junctures. And there are as well myriads of extremely uninformed voters who have never crossed party lines” (ibid: 579).
At around the same time, the power of the undecided voter, and the electoral threat they posed, was being recognised by political parties. Republican pollster Stephen C. Shadegg divided the electorate into three groups, the “Committed”, the “Undecided” and the “Indifferents” (Shadegg 1964). Committed voters, accordingly to the partisan Shadegg, are sufficiently philosophically evolved to recognise that politics is about “something more than a contest between two attractive personalities” (ibid: 13). But not all Committeds are to be admired, as they also include the “yellow-dog blank” voter: those citizens who would choose
31 a canine representative if it were the only party-aligned candidate. Undecideds are “frequently those who are truly best informed” but struggle making up their minds. But, according to Shadegg, the real power lies with the Indifferents:
Political decisions are made by the Indifferent – by that segment of the body politic which really couldn’t care less. This is the enormous paradox of democracy (ibid: 12).
These voters are regarded by Shadegg as only capable of understanding the most basic of messages. He sees them as easy to manipulate if a clever campaign is designed. Here, the slogan-driven, simple message-based contemporary election campaign is beginning to explicitly described as effective, and desirable in its appeal to undecided voters. Moreover, the cohort of low-information voters was being framed as a direct threat to democracy. As observed by Russell Dalton, “This image of the uninformed and unsophisticated voter began to reshape our view of the citizenry and the democratic process” (Dalton 2000: 920).
Alternative notions of undecided voters
In 1966, V.O. Key published a response to the growing popular concept of the electorate as being largely ignorant and lazy. In the frequently quoted introduction to his study of US presidential elections from 1936-1960, The Responsible Electorate, he writes, “The perverse and unorthodox argument of this little book is that voters are not fools” (Key 1966: 7). Key divides the electorate into three broad camps: the “standpatters” are the largest group, who vote the same way over two consecutive elections; the “switchers”, who move from one party to another; and the smallest group, consisting of those who are voting for the first time (ibid: 16). A switcher, in Key’s view, will often make a rational voting choice, as “he moves in a manner that is sensible in the light of his policy preferences” (ibid: 52). A change of mind can be interpreted as belonging to an electorate that “judges retrospectively; it commands prospectively only insofar as it expresses either approval or disapproval of that which has happened before” (ibid: 61). In this, Key harks back to the ideal of the rational, non-partisan voter of the pre-survey era, where electors make a choice based on a perception of what
32 would most benefit themselves. His work is also based on large data sets, and Key asserts that these rational switchers “number in the millions” (ibid: 16).
Key also identifies an outlying group of voters, who depart from his rational voter profile, lining up much more closely with previous survey-driven conceptions of undecided voters. “Independents”, while distinct from his three main voter blocs, are still noteworthy to Key:
This group […] is not an impressive lot. On the average, its level of information is low, its sense of political involvement is slight, its level of political participation is not high, its decision on how to vote is made late in the campaign, and its sense of political efficacy is quite low (ibid: 92).
This is essentially a paraphrasing of Campbell on a similar subject, and demonstrates that, by the time that Key was writing, the notion of a disengaged, uninterested and uncommitted group within the electorate is such an accepted idea that even someone prosecuting a broadly contradictory thesis must acknowledge it. Also, Key chooses the term “independent” to describe the less engaged and informed voters, thus divorcing the term from any associations with civic virtue. Key had expressed similarly conflicted ideas about undecided voters, fleetingly, in a footnote in the fourth edition of his 1942 book Politics, Parties, and Pressure Groups (Key 1958). In a footnote, Key struggles to reconcile the two dominant, conflicting views of independents: “One of the pleasant fictions of American politics is that substantial numbers of voters are independents who take a disinterested view of the political struggle and, after mature deliberation, cast their ballots as they deem the general interest dictates” (ibid: 583). However, he continues to argue that many independent voters are cross-pressured, and therefore are responding with a degree of rationality to a broad understanding of proceedings. In doing so, he echoes Eldersveld’s belief that independent voters are a diverse cohort: “The concept of the independent voter encompasses so great a variety of behaviours that it is almost useless for analytical purposes” (ibid: 583).
33 The recognition that undecided voters have many diverse characteristics led to some scholars, particularly in Britain in the 1960s, to investigate more specifically their demographic and attitudinal profiles. In a book that was marketed beyond an academic audience, Voters, Parties and Leaders: The social fabric of British politics, French political scientist Jean Blondel looks at “floaters” and “waverers”, who may or may not change votes between elections (1967). Blondel observes that the cohorts are not internally consistent, in that the people who changed their vote in 1964 are not necessarily the same people who changed their vote in 1959 (Blondel 1967: 71). At the same time, however, Blondel’s basic characterisation of floating voters draws a direct line back to Lazarsfeld, Campbell and Converse:
Floating voters may play a crucial part in the British system of government. But they do not seem to be aware of their responsibilities. They do not seem to be drawn from the most politically conscious section of the community. The reasons for their change of allegiance are often trivial (ibid: 72).
During the same period, political scientist and media commentator Peter Pulzer made an attempt to locate increasing electoral volatility within a broader socio- economic context. Looking at key factors like the rise in “consumerism” and greater educational mobility as a source of political information, as well as the increased use of television over meetings which occurred in real life, Pulzer wondered whether an increasingly individualised conception of the voter had made him or her “more of a private individual and less of a group actor” (Pulzer 1967: 7). This observation is made dispassionately by Pulzer, and lacks the sense of panic that is found in later accounts of the shift from public to private in political and civic life (Putnam 2000; Skocpol and Fiorina 1999). When describing the floating voter, Pulzer adds little to what has by this point become the received wisdom: floating voters can fall into a number of categories, including those who consider changing vote, those who abstain and those who convert (Pulzer 1967: 124). He makes the by then standard observation that the way they actually are is different from the way they were once perceived:
34 Those who decide late and hesitatingly how they should vote could be, and in traditional liberal mythology are, the independent-minded, rational elite. Modern evidence, however, points predominantly in the opposite direction. In both Britain and America it has emerged that “waverers” are on average less well informed on current affairs, less exposed to the political items in the newspapers or on radio or TV, less likely to read election literature or attend meeting, less likely to discuss politics with friends or members of their family […]. There certainly are electors who live up to the liberal idea of the rational, disinterested citizen. But they are in a minority (ibid: 125).
By the end of the 1960s, a group of British scholars publishing on the floating voter assumed such familiarity with the term that they did not find it necessary to define it (Benewick et al. 1969). In a paper that referred to Blondel and Milne and Mackenzie, and heavily utilised the data from Trenaman and McQuail’s 1961 survey, the authors set out a case that is deliberately built to challenge what has become the orthodoxy around floating voters:
[…] the inference that is sometimes drawn that the electoral process in Britain is […] somewhat irrational, with two large blocks of voters motivated by unthinking loyalty to their parties and a handful of floating voters whose arbitrary and perhaps capricious decisions hold the balance […]. Moreover […] a substantial proportion of the floating voters [are] well-informed and interested in politics (ibid: 195).
That this is framed as a provocation is underscored by the authors’ decision to locate their argument historically, noting that a move to the left by the electorate in the 1960s was a reasonable response to the Conservative party’s perceived economic mismanagement, the retirement of prime minister Harold Macmillan and the subsequent “undignified scramble for the succession”, and the scandal of the Profumo affair (ibid: 195). This underscores the argument that the disenchantment with established parties frequently brings about a rise in the number of, and attitudes to, floating voters.
35 Undecided voters and fears for democracy
By the 1980s, the connection between undecided voters and lack of political knowledge and interest was considered to be established, and was fuelling what political scientist Stanley Kelley, writing in 1983, describes as an “uneasiness” with the democratic process (Kelley 1983: 7). Locating this explicitly within the tradition established by Lazarsfeld and his contemporaries, Kelley argued that this uneasiness was “fed by studies of public opinion which have shown that many voters are badly informed about public affairs and that those voters who shift their votes most easily from one candidate to another are particularly ill-informed” (ibid: 7). However, he cautioned against reading too much into studies of public opinion, drawing a distinction between public and electoral opinion. For Kelley, public opinion is rarely focused on specific events, and its hypothetical quality makes it more “casual” than electoral opinion, which is a response to a definite, immediate question (ibid: 7-8). Underlying this argument is the implication that, if a public is asked to choose between candidates at an election, its members will think about their choice, at least a little.
To categorise the electorate, Kelley developed a scale in which voters were asked to respond to five statements about the candidates or parties contesting an election. By measuring the strength of the voters’ reactions to these statements, Kelley predicted how someone was going to vote, with those in the middle ground being “marginal”, “weakly committed”, lightly committed”, “soft” or “up for grabs” (ibid: 14-22, 32-36, 149, 207, 208-209). Voters who change their vote between elections are “swing” voters, and they are similar in demographic terms to “marginals” (ibid: 157). Kelley’s scale is problematic because he uses a variety of terms, some interchangeably, and some with implied differences, that are poorly explained. Moreover, it does not allow for those who simply have no knowledge or understanding of the issues tested.
Towards the end of the twentieth century, several key events, like the Watergate scandal, the Vietnam War, and the counter-cultural movements of the 1960s and 70s, were seen to have shaken the faith of the American polity in the major parties. Pulitzer prize-winning journalist Hendrick Smith declared in his bestseller
36 The Power Game that “The most important phenomenon of American politics in the past quarter century has been the rise of independent voters, who at times have outnumbered the Republicans” (Smith 1988: 414). The move of voters away from major parties coincided with, and in part catalysed, a broader concern for the health of democracy. The association between a lack of partisanship and a lack of interest or engagement was underpinned by Jürgen Habermas’ observations that “undecided” voters are also likely to be “recruited predominantly from the large reservoir of less interested, less informed, and apathetic citizens” (Habermas 1989: 213). Such citizens, for Habermas, compromise the effective functioning of the public sphere, and negatively affect “the staged or manipulatively manufactured public sphere of the election campaign” (ibid: 214). Notions of the public sphere, and how it fits within broader arguments about civic virtue, will be considered more fully in Chapter Nine.
Scholarship around undecided voters responded to heightening concerns for democracy by shifting its focus. Whereas earlier research, influenced by survey data, was concerned with voter behaviour, late twentieth century scholars became concerned with the notion of partisanship and independence more broadly. This conceptual shift can be seen as reminiscent of the dominant ideas of a century earlier, which placed a moral value on notions of independence. However, by the late twentieth century, a drift away from the parties had become a cause for alarm. These relocating values evoke the idea, proposed by Quentin Skinner, that key concepts change in response to historical context (Skinner 2002). There were debates as to the causes of this shift. Some argued that it was a normal response to socio-economic upheaval (Clubb, Flanigan and Zingale 1990). Others thought it reflected a disenchantment with major parties, especially amongst the young (Niemi and Weisberg 1976). In 1991, Martin Wattenberg argued that Americans were becoming less interested in party loyalty and more motivated by “candidate- centred politics” (Wattenberg 1991). For Wattenberg, potential presidents became the political currency that voters understood and responded to, and by the mid 1980s, voters who had “tuned out” the parties still were able to offer opinions of the candidates. These party-blind voters, wrote Wattenberg, “are often considered the most important group in American electoral politics – known collectively as
37 the ‘floating voters’” (ibid: 43). Wattenberg’s floaters are ignorant, and respond to politicians as they would to celebrities.
In contrast to Wattenberg’s suggestion that partisan ties were becoming weaker, Bruce Keith argued that very few voters were altogether free of partisanship (Keith 1992). Taking Campbell’s question about independents as his starting point, Keith was critical of the fact that Campbell, Converse, Key and others combined the three types of independent voters, (independent Republicans, unaligned independents, and independent Democrats), in order to draw conclusions about independents more broadly. Keith argued that this has led to over-simplifications of what he sees as a more complex cohort, and that the view of independents as being “ignorant, apathetic and inactive […] became the unchallenged conventional wisdom until the late 1960s, when large increases in the number of Independents raised new questions” (ibid: 16). But, only the “pure” independents conform to this “conventional wisdom”. Partisan-leaning independents, in contrast, “have always been relatively interested, informed and active, and Pure Independents have been notably uninterested, ignorant, and inactive” (ibid: 41). Keith proposes that it would be more useful to consider two types of independent voter:
“old Independents” who correspond to the bleak picture of classical survey-research, and “new Independents” who may have declined to identify with either major party not because they are relatively politically unconscious, but because the structure of electoral politics at the present time turns upon parties, issues, and symbolisms that do not have much meaning in terms of their political values or cognitions” (ibid: 127).
This idea emphasises the importance of context in provoking the attention and forming the decisions of undecided voters: ideas around partisanship, dealignment and realignment reflect their times.
38 Undecided voters in the 21st century
Throughout the 1990s, the levels of American voters reporting mild to strong levels of partisanship returned to mid-century levels (Bartels 2000). Party identification, once formed, was found to remain reasonably stable over an adult lifetime (Green, Palmquist and Schickler 2002). Concurrently, however, numbers of undecided voters were increasing in the United States (Faucheux 2003), and divisions between the partisan and the independent were once again cast along the lines of high and low information levels, engagement and apathy, and interest or lack thereof. In a 2004 essay entitled “Floating Voters in the US Presidential Elections, 1948-2000”, John Zaller argues that the classic theories of Converse and Campbell hold true in the new millennium. Using the survey data that Campbell began collecting at the Center for Political Studies (CPS) in 1948, and which became the National Election Studies (NES) from 1980, Zaller finds that over time, “Poorly informed voters are likely to shift back and forth during presidential campaigns […] they vote haphazardly. They tend to be […] ’floaters’” (Zaller 2004: 166). On the other hand, he discovers that “high information voters are more partisan and ideological, and that low information voters are more concerned about ‘the nature of the times’ and candidate qualities” (ibid: 198). This suggests a disdain from Zaller towards voters who are influenced by personality over policy that is located in normative ideas of civic virtue. Poorly informed, less partisan floating voters are, according to Zaller, more likely to be influenced by the big, simple messages of individual campaigns. These messages are likely to be ignored or rejected by partisans from the opposing side of politics (ibid: 198-199). So, for Zaller, one reason that undecided voters switch parties is that their lack of long-term partisan commitment makes them more susceptible to short-term issues. However, Zaller overlooks a voter who may be affected by a short-term issue after deciding it is particularly important.
It was not until 2006 that a study entirely focussed on swing voters was conducted. Phillip Dalton interviewed thirty voters who decided their votes late in the U.S. Presidential election campaign of 2000. Arguably, his biggest contribution to the literature is his recognition of its lack of cohesion:
39 The lack of definitional clarity contributes to the difficulty of developing a better understanding of this group. Very often “swing voter” is employed without reference to any specific parameters used to help define the group. Throughout academic literature, many words are used interchangeably with “swing voter” (Dalton 2006a: 9).
However, Dalton himself offers little clarity. He initially identifies two types of undecided voter: one which rejects his or her party for ideological reasons, and one which swings after objective consideration (ibid: 2). He also identifies a third group of “floaters”, which he defines as being distinct from “swing” voters. Swing voters, according to Dalton, “once swung, are anchored” whereas floaters drift back and forth (ibid: 8). He does not address the issue of information or engagement among floaters. Dalton’s broad group of swing voters, however, are “educated and interested in politics”. They can even be registered Republican or Democrat, as long as they claim to be undecided. (ibid: 9). In defining swing voters in this way, Dalton aligns himself with the pre-survey idealists who saw independence as a virtue found in free and unbiased thinkers. It is possible that his purely qualitative method has influenced his findings: it is to be expected that few citizens, participating in an interview about their voting behaviour, would admit to a complete lack of interest in politics. Even beyond these weaknesses in his method, Dalton’s overall treatment of his subject is confused, and his distinction between “floating” and “swing” voters has not endured.
The year following Dalton’s study, political communications scholar James Stanyer also used terms like floating, swing and independent voters interchangeably, defining them only in the broadest sense, of having no clear partisan preference (Stanyer 2007). He does, however, regard them as the “few voters who are able to change the outcome of an election” (ibid: 19), and considers at length increased use of market research techniques to determine “Swing Voter Attitudes” (ibid: 20-24). The rise of these techniques, and the focus on recruiting swing voters to research groups, is also observed by pollsters working at around the same time (Steeper 2008). Stanyer concludes that they demonstrate a “complex mix of motivations” when deciding how to vote, including “feelings of economic wellbeing […] a contestant’s record, credibility,
40 his/her personality and image, or whether the candidate is in line with their aspirations” (Stanyer 2007: 20). The recognition that swing voters are diverse in their motivations is key to a more nuanced understanding of the cohort. Stanyer does not conform to an idealistic vision of the independent as model citizen, nor does he cast swing voters as mindless dupes. Rather, his focus on the motivating factors which might make a voter undecided allows for a variety of types of undecided voter, and better reflects the complexity of a contemporary electorate.
While it post-dates Dalton’s Swing Voters, William Mayer’s edited collection The Swing Voter in American Politics is a significantly more rigorous, better-known, and more influential book-length consideration of the cohort (Mayer 2008a). Building on an earlier article on the same theme (Mayer 2007), Mayer argues that there is an increasing number of “swing voters” in the US, and their political importance is likewise increasing. While broadly acknowledged as an entity in political commentary and journalism, Mayer recognises that the swing voter is loosely defined, and vastly under-studied in academia: “Though an increasing number of academic works make use of the phrase, none tries to define it very precisely or investigate its general properties” (Mayer 2008a: 1). In an attempt to rectify this, Mayer sets out to identify who this person is in an American context. He defines an undecided voter loosely, as “a voter who could go either way: a voter who is not so solidly committed to one candidate or the other as to make all efforts at persuasion futile” (ibid: 2).
This definition, relying on the idea of “persuadability”, has at its core the assumption that all of these voters are absorbing sufficient political communication to be influenced one way or the other. In the environment in which Mayer is writing, this is perfectly acceptable. After all, the American swing voter is at least engaged enough to vote, and the large group who are beyond the reach of political communication tend to simply stay away from the ballot box. However, when considered in the Australian context of compulsory turnout, the notion of using persuadability as a key definer of the undecided voter is less straightforward. Every Australian is required to vote, regardless of whether he or she has any engagement with the political machine, or interaction with political
41 communication. Thus, those whom campaigns have been ineffective in reaching or persuading are often still voting.
Regardless, Mayer provides a comprehensive argument for the political importance of undecided voters, and provides several theories as to how they can be identified and measured. In attempting to form a profile of swing voters, he determines that it is extremely difficult to make demographic generalisations about them. Factors of race, age or gender do not have any demonstrated influence on a person’s likelihood to swing. Mayer finds that swing voters tend to be ideological moderates, and are less informed about and interested in politics (Mayer 2008b: 23-25). Overall, however, “swing voters are, at least in demographic terms, a very diverse group” (ibid: 26).
Mayer’s contributors present a variety of views and opinions about swing voters. Michael Dimock and his colleagues analyse Pew Research Centre data gathered around the 2004 US presidential election, and define the swing voter as anyone who is even slightly uncommitted when polled during an election period. They form a conclusion that follows the classic findings of Lazarsfeld, Campbell, Converse and Kelley, finding that “Swing voters are substantially less enthusiastic about politics and public affairs than voters who have stronger candidate preferences”, and are also less likely to be knowledgeable about the candidates (Dimock, Clark and Menasce Horowitz 2008: 64-65). However, they also acknowledge that swing voters are less fixed in their views than partisans, so are potentially more open to campaign messaging. Dimock and his colleagues also find that swing voters’ attention to the campaign increases as the campaign progresses, and that the number of swing voters decreases over the course of the campaign, as they start to make their decision (ibid: 65, 67-68). In addition, they observe that “The fact that swing voters have given less consideration to the campaign and have less information about the candidates means that the new information that they do acquire has a greater impact on these voters” (ibid: 73). These factors, when considered together, suggest that while a proportion of swing voters may conform to the apathetic and ignorant profile, there are also a number of them who are following the campaign enough to be influenced by its messages.
42 How effectively these undecided voters are able to distinguish propaganda from factual information is not considered by these authors.
Daron R. Shaw looks at data from American National Election Studies (ANES) collected over the previous fifty years, and attempts to define types of swing voters. Using the terminologies of Key and Converse, Shaw differentiates between “switchers” and “floaters”. The latter resemble the classic party- identification model archetype, who are “neither especially interested nor involved in the politics of the day” (Shaw 2008: 87). The former conform more to the earlier, idealised notion of the independent, changing their vote over a particular response to a candidate or issue “on the basis of their rather detailed and exceptional understanding of current political information” (ibid: 86-87). Shaw’s most useful observation is that swing voters are difficult to bundle, so media- driven classifications such as “soccer moms” or “Reagan Democrats” do not have any empirical justification (ibid: 75). Shaw also recognises the importance of context in a voter’s decision to swing, in that he or she is most often responding to some issue or concern of relevance to him or her (ibid: 99). That voters respond to context indicates that they are – at least to some extent aware – of the political environment, and are not totally disconnected from a campaign.
In the same collection, pollsters Adam Clymer and Ken Kinneg deal with similar issues. They look at the likelihood of “persuadables” to actually move their vote, and find that, in the 2004 presidential election at least, few did (Clymer and Kinneg 2008). Similarly, James Campbell sets out to determine whether the notion that swing voters are the ones who determine elections is correct. Working with ANES data since 1956, he finds that in a two-party preferred system, presidents don’t always need to carry the swing vote, where swing voters are those who show a level of indecision during the election campaign (Campbell 2008). Jeffrey M. Jones examines Gallup Polls since 1944. He regards swing voters as being both “leaners”, and those with a “less-than-firm commitment to their candidate” (Jones 2008: 33). Further, “Political moderates are more likely to be swing voters than are liberals or conservatives”, however his analysis of swing voters in the polls from 1996-2004 “shows that there are no consistent demographic differences across the three elections. Although significant group-
43 based differences do exist in individual elections, they tend not to hold in other elections. For example, younger voters were more likely than senior citizens to be swing voters in 1996 and 2000, but less so in 2004” (ibid: 51). This emphasises the volatility of undecided voters as a cohort, with demographics perhaps mobilising over certain issues in specific elections, but not being able to be unconditionally classified as swing voters.
The notion of “the persuadable voter” is picked up by Sunshine Hillygus and Todd Shields in their 2008 book of the same name (2008). For them, however, “being undecided about candidate preference is a behavioural consequence, rather than a determinant, of persuadability” (Hillygus and Shields 2008: 24). They argue that few voters will agree with all of their preferred party’s polities, and as such, are more influenced by issues than partisan predispositions. Often these issues are complex, cross-pressured, and not always consistent with major-party policy, and frequently they are of a moral nature, for example stem-cell research or marriage equality. These types of issues are more likely to filter through to voters who may not be closely following the election than those which are less emotive. However, Hilly Jaensch gus and Shields align with scholars such as Morris Fiorina (Fiorina 1990) and Samuel Popkin (Popkin 1991) in an overall belief that most voters get sufficient knowledge from casual exposure to a campaign. Hillygus and Shields also allow for voters who are completely indifferent, but argue that these citizens do not affect their persuadable voter model as they simply do not vote (Hillygus and Shields 2008: 33). The elevation of issues over partisanship allows for the existence of partisans, especially “soft” partisans, who change their votes, however, in claiming it to be the dominant model by which people make up their minds, and suggesting that voters examine issues independently of partisan predisposition, Hillygus and Shields have overstated their case.
Following the closely contested 2000 and 2004 US Federal elections, and then the difficulties experienced by the Obama administration in passing legislation through an uncooperative Congress after its election in 2008, popular commentators and academics became interested in whether there was an increasing tendency towards polarised political views across America (McCarty,
44 Poole and Rosenthal 2006; Abramowitz and Saunders 2008; Hussey 2012; Fiorina, Abrams and Pope 2006). “Red State” and “Blue State” became shorthand for a range of political and cultural values that were fundamentally opposed. A vast literature has emerged around this theme, which has, to a certain extent, affected debates about partisanship and independents. As Hillygus and Shields attempted to liberate voters from the ideological shackles of partisan-dictated opinion, so does their contemporary, Nancy Rosenblum, try to rehabilitate the image of partisanship, freeing it from connotations of “falling into line”, and only being able to engage with politics through the prism of ideological conflict (Rosenblum 2008: 16). Rosenblum directly engages with the idealised view of the independent, dominant in the nineteenth century and early twentieth, a notion which she considers to be strongly resurgent in early twenty-first century America. In a neat summation of the ideal of the virtuous independent voter, she writes:
The Independent [stereotype] is a free agent, neither a “cog in the machine” without judgement, nor a client whose judgement is bought. He or she is the kind of person who assesses men and measures uninfluenced by party loyalty, history, ideology or favors. Independents are proud of their resistance to the sway of passion and of compromising commitments but prouder still of being alert, deliberate, intelligent (ibid: 333).
Rosenblum unequivocally rejects this stereotype, arguing that partisans are perfectly capable of independent thought, and are more effective as political agents of change, because – despite constructive arguments around policy detail – they vote as a bloc and have the potential to elect a president. Independents, by contrast, are not a unified group, and as such have no salience in specific elections. “Independents”, she writes, “are not sending a coordinated message”, and the notion that they can be analysed as a bloc is not justified (ibid: 351). Rosenblum hopes to recover the image of partisan competence and diligence. However, her overall argument is limited by a simplistic tendency to group all “partisans” and all “independents” into two homogenous groups, each possessing their own characteristics (Dalton 2009b).
45 Writing four years later, Howard Lavine, Christopher Johnston and Marco Steenbergen also stress the importance of partisanship, but for different reasons (2012). Echoing Zaller’s work around informational shortcuts (2003), which itself rests on that of Anthony Downs (1957), Lavine and his colleagues develop a model of the “ambivalent partisan”. Observing that much of the preceding scholarship divides the electorate into independents, who are often regarded as not engaged citizens, and partisans, who are criticised for bias, the authors advance a third type of citizen:
[…] a nontrivial portion of the electorate [which] manages to escape the vicissitudes of apathy or wanton bias […] ambivalent partisans […] that reliably approximate a more desirable standard of democratic citizenship (Lavine, Johnston and Steenbergen 2012: xiii, emphasis in original).
This model recognises that long-term partisan loyalty can be challenged by short- term issues: a scandal, a poor candidate, or a stance on a particularly salient issue. This electoral flexibility is a desirable form of citizenship for the authors, as it allows for the engagement that typically comes with a degree of partisan attachment, as well as the independence of mind required to respond when something confronts this loyalty.
Russell Dalton, who is concerned with questioning normative ideas of citizenship (2009a), argues that informed citizens, who rationally move past the limitations posed by a two-party political system, are growing in number in the United States. Dalton attributes this increase to many factors: a general waning of institutional affiliations, including to religion, family, and brand loyalty; a disaffection with major parties; and growing levels of education and sophistication among the electorate (2013). Dalton has developed a concept he calls “cognitive mobilization”, which is the combination of the education or knowledge to make an informed decision, and the inclination to do so. Dalton argues that cognitive mobilisation:
[…] means that more people now possess the political resources and skills that better prepare them to deal with the complexities of politics and reach
46 their own political decisions with less reliance on affective, habitual party loyalties and other cues (Dalton 2013: 39).
Dalton arranges voters into a grid where factors of cognitive mobilisation are considered in combination with party identification. Using ANES data, Dalton relies upon the party identification question to determine partisanship. For cognitive mobilisation, he combines responses to questions about education and interest in public affairs. This divides the electorate into four main categories. Those who have a partisan preference, either strong or weak, as well as a high level of cognitive mobilisation, are “cognitive partisans”, reminiscent of the engaged, informed partisan. Partisans with low cognitive mobilisation are “ritual partisans”, voting the same way election after election, but applying little consideration to their vote. Voters with no party identification and low cognitive mobilisation are “apolitical independents”, who reflect the Campbell/Lazarsfeld/Converse model, lacking political sophistication, interest and knowledge. Nonpartisan citizens who have high cognitive mobilization are “apartisans” (ibid: 39-41). It is to this group Dalton devotes his book.
Dalton’s work is a welcome recognition that the scholarly tendency to divide the electorate into broad groups like “partisans” and “independents”, and then ascribe blanket qualities to these groups, is limited, and often results in the creation or perpetuation of unrepresentative stereotypes. Both partisans and independents come with varying levels of sophistication, interest and knowledge. However, his use of education levels as one of only two indicators of political sophistication is fundamentally elitist, and to some degree undermines his own concept of cognitive mobilisation. Important, however, is Dalton’s insistence that American society has evolved since the mid-twentieth-century, and is now less partisan, more politically aware, and less automatically deferent to civic institutions; and that these factors influence the political inclinations of citizens. Dalton’s apartisans are politically active, but not necessarily through traditional political channels. Rather than concluding that this is a sign of democratic crisis, Dalton argues that this cohort of sophisticated, informed voters working outside of party politics is indicative of a healthy, if different and evolving, democracy: “the norms of citizenship are changing. Rather than showing deference towards elites
47 and political institutions, Americans have become more autonomous in the political orientations” (ibid: 46). Rosenblum might argue that this is a problem, as this very autonomy suggests that non-partisans are essentially politically ineffective. However, this view would be retrospective, and ignores increasingly prevalent non-party related political activity, such as that found in online, cause- based mobilisation. Dalton’s model, while flawed, is more forward-looking, and attempts to engage with a changing socio-economic and political context.
The scholarship produced in the United States, especially the survey-driven work of Lazarsfeld, Campbell and their contemporaries, has very much influenced research coming out of Britain, although the British literature is, in general, more likely to seek nuance and diversity, and less inclined to fall back onto archetypes. In Australia, the method of surveying a single electorate and then extrapolating the results to draw conclusions applicable to the entire nation was readily and frequently adopted; however the unique Australian system of compulsory voting has cast the undecided voter in a slightly different light. It is these, Australian undecided voters to which this research will now turn.
48
Chapter Three
Undecided voters in Australia
The Australian electoral context, in which voting is compulsory for all adult citizens, casts a different perspective on the undecided voter from that in the United States and Britain. Much of the American literature draws clear parallels between undecided voters and those with little political interest and information. In democracies where voting is voluntary, significant communications strategies are undertaken with the goal of mobilising citizens to vote in the first place. Those who resist this message and do not vote are not regarded as undecided voters in the literature, but rather they are seen as existing outside the political process. In Australia, low-information, politically unmotivated and uninterested citizens are still required to make a decision on election day. This legally enforced enfranchisement delivers a bigger cohort of undecided voters in relation to overall voters (Spies-Butcher 2012: 156). The fact that the undecided are required to vote adds an extra dimension to popular anxieties that our governments are being chosen by ignorant, lazy people who know nothing about politics, and could not care less.
This view is not recent. Writing about undecided voters in Australia in the early half of the twentieth century, essayist Edwin Tylor Brown warned about the effects that enfranchising this cohort would have on the democratic process:
They are a tremendous danger at best, even if they are left the option of remaining inactive. But if you allow them to be canvassed and harried and hunted to the polls, you are loading the dice heavily against reasonable decision. And if you go the utmost length and compel them by law to vote, you are deliberately reducing the collective intelligence, the collective sincerity and strength of purpose to the lowest level (Brown 1940: 205- 206).
49 Brown’s view predates the publication of The People’s Choice (Lazarsfeld, Berelson and Gaudet 1944), and as such is remarkable for its association of the undecided voter with the politically ignorant. Brown was, however, writing specifically in the context of compulsory voting, and his view foreshadows a long discourse about the dangers posed to Australian democracy by forcibly enfranchising even the most uninformed and careless. This, in turn, feeds into a crisis narrative that specifically locates the perceived problems with democracy at the feet of an unworthy polity.
The 1960s saw several election studies in Australia which, heavily influenced by the work of Lazarsfeld, Campbell (1960), Milne and McKenzie (1955), surveyed single electorates and then extrapolated the findings to draw conclusions about the Australian electorate as a whole. Like their northern counterparts, these studies all considered the role and characteristics of undecided voters. Donald Rawson, who with his team interviewed 428 voters in the New South Wales federal electorate of Parkes, specifically aligns his findings with those of his predecessors in the United States and United Kingdom: “It is not unlikely that the swinging voters […] are made up of two groups – the ‘dregs and the scum; the dregs very low, the scum very superior’” (Rawson 1961: 165, 167). Rawson draws a distinction between “swinging voters”, who move back and forth between elections, and “undecided”, who report to have not made up their minds in the week before the election, but then vote as they always have come polling day (ibid: 167). It is the ultimate consistency of the “undecided” voters that spares them the full force of Rawson’s scorn.
In the same year, Creighton Burns draws similar conclusions from his survey of the Victorian federal electorate of La Trobe, where 267 citizens were interviewed. Burns found that undecided voters in La Trobe were “just drifting, some hopelessly and in pathetic confusion” (Burns 1961: 99). He uses various terms to describe undecided voters (it is unclear as to which of his categories the hopeless, pathetic drifter belongs). For example, he distinguishes between “swingers” and “floaters”, with the latter “not moving away from a fixed political position, but searching for one”. There are also “strayers […] whose indecision was more than sheer apathy [and who] obviously enjoyed criticising their own side”. There are
50 “grievance voters” and “dissidents” – these two terms are used interchangeably – and “waverers” who consider changing their vote but eventually do not, although Burns also uses “waverer” more generically, to describe undecided voters in general (ibid: 98; 101-102; 119). Despite the definitional fluidity, most undecided voters in Burns’ schema are largely ignorant of the election campaign – many apologetically so, claiming to be too busy or distracted at the time of the survey to have had the opportunity to have informed themselves. Burns does, however, identify a group of undecided voters who:
[…] read more assiduously than the party supporters; though none of them was very interested in the election they accepted the obligation to declare themselves on one side or the other and turned to the press as one source that might help them resolve their indecision (ibid: 61).
In this model, compulsory voting is a stimulant for political engagement, rather than a mechanism by which the ignorant are compelled to vote.
Writing two years later, Joan Rydon repeated the dominant idea of the undecided voter being less informed and interested than the partisan:
Those who take most interest who attend campaign meetings, who read party propaganda, are largely those already firmly committed to a party […] the idea of the “swinging voter” as an independent who carefully weighs alternative policies has received some hard blows (Rydon 1963: 168-169).
Given that Rydon takes a disparaging view of undecided voters, it is unsurprising that she also voices grave concerns about compulsory voting: “in Australia all the uninterested and apathetic are required to vote and it is clear that they must often determine the outcome of elections” (Rydon 1963: 179). For her, undecided voters are close to ignorant and apathetic almost by definition, and are therefore a threat to democracy.
51 Fin Crisp also recognised the increased impact that compulsory voting confers upon undecided voters, arguing that the “’floating vote’ has been rendered more important and decisive both in shaping the issues and in deciding the result in elections because voting is compulsory” (Crisp 1965: 130). However, he is less disparaging of them as a group:
There is, of course, a significant informed, shrewd and responsible element amongst the Australian “floating vote”. But there is some basis for suggesting that there is a distinctly larger proportion of the “floating vote” which has not these qualities – nor is it confined by any means to one class (ibid: 131).
Perhaps because of this belief in the varied, not demographically set, and not automatically stupid nature of undecided voters, Crisp is not alarmed by their electoral importance. Rather, he sees them as a vital part of a functioning polity:
The “floating vote”, however mixed its composition, must still have in a democracy its positive and therapeutic uses. Its existence, whatever its shortcomings, does keep the politicians uncertain of power and therefore responsive to the current of opinion (ibid: 131-132).
Local considerations were also found to be important in changing votes. In a small study of the 1965 NSW state election in the seat of Manly, Jan Nicholson contributed a chapter on “The Swinging Vote” (Nicholson 1968). Her chapter does not attempt to place undecided voters in a broader tradition, nor does she reference the survey-based work that preceded her in Australia, the UK and the US. The primary focus of her analysis is concerned less with the characteristics of undecided voters, and more with conditions under which people decide to change. She found that local issues could contribute to even a usually partisan voter to turn away from their usual party; in this case it was the lack of an appealing party candidate (Nicholson 1968). Nicholson also found that mass media were more influential on undecided voters than conversations; possibly, she theorises, because non-partisans were likely to avoid political conversations with friends and family, preferring to “keep the peace” (ibid: 174-175).
52
In the aftermath of Gough Whitlam’s emphatic victory in the 1972 federal election, there was investigation on both sides of politics into why so many citizens had changed their votes from the Liberal Party to the Australian Labor Party (ALP). Two studies were published in 1973, one by ALP-aligned pollster Rodney Cameron, and the other by Liberal Party member David Kemp, who would become a minister in John Howard’s Coalition government. Kemp’s study, which focuses specifically on former Liberal voters who changed their vote in the 1972 election, acknowledges the American literature that precedes it. As such, he frames his research within an expectation that undecided voters would have lower levels of political information:
One aspect of the individual’s social situation upon which considerable weight has been placed in the past is the extent of the political information a voter possesses. The relationship appears to be that the more information a voter has the less likely he is to swing […]. Given that there is likely to be a positive relationship between interest in politics and exposure to political communications, it could be predicted from this that interest in politics would be negatively associated with tendency to swing: the more interested are likely to be better informed and hence more stable (Kemp 1973: 286).
However, Kemp’s small sample group did not fulfil these predictions, yielding no clear socio-demographic variables that might predict a tendency to swing. Nor did it show “significant relationship between interest in the campaign and tendency to swing” (ibid: 286). Surveying Liberal voters who had switched to Labor in the same election, Cameron also found evidence contradicting the stereotype that undecided voters are less well-educated than stable voters: “the better educated as a group were more likely to be a swinging political force” (Cameron 1973: 278).
Kemp’s explanation for this apparent anomaly is to suggest that it could perhaps be because of the “importance” of the 1972 election, which was “realigning”. This is to say, it involved a charismatic leader who was promising dynamic change, and so it lifted interest in politics across the population, which meant that more
53 people paid attention to politics than they usually would (Kemp 1973: 286-287). This view was reinforced by Don Aitkin, who regarded the 1972 election, and then the dismissal of the Whitlam government in 1975, as being unusually politically mobilising for Australians (Aitkin 1982: 273, 278, 282-273). In line with this tendency to frame electoral swings within their broader socio-political context, Kemp also argued that factors such as a “middle-classing” of Australian society, a radicalisation of white-collar voters and the lessening of the influence of trade unions were leading to an erosion in the bases of the major parties in Australia (Kemp 1978). Aitken, on the other hand, argued that the political upheavals of the early to mid 1970s saw an immediate increase in party affiliation, which then resulted in voter disillusionment and a drift to post-materialist concerns:
In late 1975 aroused citizens flocked to join the parties, but the parties had no place to them, no tasks for them to fulfil, once the election was over. Some will abandon politics for this special issue or that one: Aboriginal land rights, abortion, uranium, the environment (Aitkin 1982: 283).
In his review of the 1972 election campaign, Cameron draws a distinction between the “swinging” and the “undecided” voter: the undecided is “the person who at the time of a survey has not decided upon his party support, and whom many analysts equate with the conceptually more easy to verbalise ‘swinging voter’”; the “genuine swinging voter” on the other hand, is “the person who (shortly) before an election supports one party but who actually changes allegiance to the extent of voting for a different party” (Cameron 1973: 275). Cameron’s distinction has not survived, partly because, as he observes, the term “swinging voter” is generally easier to imagine and use. Cameron himself was to abandon the distinction in later publications. Even in this review, he privileges “swinging voter” as the dominant term, in his acknowledgement of the supreme electoral importance of the cohort:
The so-called “swinging voter” is a VIP in Australian politics. Party campaign directors admit that the major part of the creative effort, budget
54 allowance and media planning is directed at this prestigious swinger. Yet little is known about him (Cameron 1973: 275).
Working for the ALP during the 1970s and 1980s, Cameron honed his profile of the undecided voter, and in doing so, helped to firmly establish the archetypal notion of the undecided voter that endures in Australian public discourse. In a report for the ALP from 1980, Cameron wrote that for undecided voters, who had, by this time, become for him a clearly identifiable cohort:
[…] politics is dull, boring and largely irrelevant to their lifestyle. Politicians are held in low esteem. Politics is ‘out of touch’ with their interests and lifestyles. Interest in political philosophy, ideology is very low. There is far greater involvement and interest in matters concerning their personal and their family’s financial well-being, and their day-to-day interests (sport, family concerns, leisure, recreation) than in even simple questions of ideology and government. Their catch cry is NON- INVOLVEMENT. They abhor politician aggression, political rallies, anything which implies (irrelevant) political involvement. They are essentially the products (and supporters) of mass market commercialism, gaining their political information from Mike Willesee or his equivalent, the tabloid newspapers and the occasional commercial news bulletin. At the same time (and hypocritically) they criticise in a knee jerk way political Parties for not making their policies clear. They know very little about Labor policies (or even its general orientation) on all non-welfare related matters. They are unclear about Labor’s leader (Cameron in Mills 1986: 22).
Clearly contemptuous of this group, Cameron recommends that in order to be competitive in elections, the party should appeal to the selfish interests of undecided voters, and campaign on issues such as petrol prices (Mills 1986: 23). Cameron’s contempt extends to the popular journalism of the time: for Cameron, a political education received from watching the broadcasts of commercial television host Mike Willesee is woefully inadequate. It could very well have
55 been Cameron who penned the following ALP research document, leaked to The Age newspaper in 1980, which takes a similar tone:
The swinging voters are selfish, ignorant and depressed. They know virtually nothing of Hayden […] they vote on instinct for superficial, ill- informed and generally selfish reasons. They think Fraser is a fair sort of all-round bastard (cited in Weller 1983: 71).
Stephen Mills’ 1986 book The New Machine Men, which uses the research of both Cameron and Kemp as sources, makes clear the importance of undecided voters to Australian political campaigners on both sides of politics. The stereotypical view of undecided voters is strongly reflected in (and reinforced by) party research from late 1970s and early 1980s. Almost directly contemporaneous to Cameron was the Liberal party pollster George Camakaris, who in 1979 wrote in a report for the Western Australian Liberals which contains strong parallels to Cameron’s description:
Swinging voters who are ultimately responsible for changing or retaining Governments, by definition, believe there is little between the two Parties. Thus ideology to the swinging voter is of little consequence. What is of consequence however, is the way he thinks the application of an ideology will affect him personally or his family. Swinging voters cast their final vote not so much on the basis of critical appraisal of Parties and policies, but on an emotive gut feel of what’s right at the time […] The essential difference between the two Parties is leadership irrespective of philosophies or issues (to the swinging voter that is). He (the swinging voter) has conditioned himself to react to individuals, rather than issues; issues require a more rational appraisal and that’s not his style (Camakaris in Mills 1986: 25).
This view is so predominant that even Mills, an extremely knowledgeable journalist and academic, only acknowledges this one type of undecided voter, who is to blame not just for poor election results, but for the low esteem with which they are held. The very last sentences of Mills’ book describe a political class
56 behaving in a way purely determined by the calibre of the polity, and places blame for any problems with democratic function solely on the ignorant and irresponsible voter: “Since [the political parties’] task, as they see it, is to win elections by reflecting us and following our lead, they will change when we change. The disdain with which they regard the swinging voter will change if the swinging voter does” (ibid: 209).
In 1985, Ernie Chaples published a study investigating the role of “softly committed” voters in the 1984 federal election victory of Bob Hawke. Chaples laments the looseness with which the term “swinging voter” had been defined in popular and political discourse (Chaples 1985). He surveys voters in the New South Wales federal electorates of Cook and Phillip, and finds few demographic consistencies with the voters who either changed their traditional vote, or considered doing so. Rather, they were moved by specific issues (for example, nuclear disarmament), by local concerns, by an attraction to the candidate, or by a general sense of dissatisfaction (ibid: 189-190).
Returning to the subject more than a decade later, Chaples considers undecided voters as part of a broader examination of the Australian electorate, arguing that their number is growing: “One thing that is certain is that a larger number of weakly aligned and non-aligned voters are now deciding who wins Australian elections” (Chaples 1997: 360). He divides undecided voters into various sub- categories. There are “true swingers […] those with weak party identifications who decide between the two major party groupings”; and “local candidate inconsistents”, who will privilege an attachment to a local candidate over broader partisan ties (ibid: 361). Further, “party waverers” are the classic cross-pressured voters, who will “desert their party on a single issue that is personally salient for them”; Chaples gives the goods and services tax (GST) as an example. Finally, people might split their vote and preference their first party in the lower house while issuing a protest vote for a minor party in the senate to “send a message” (ibid: 364).
Chaples then breaks the “true swingers” into four distinct categories. There are the “rationalists” who cast their vote according to a consideration of who serves their
57 best interests. There is an anti-major party group which flits around between the minor parties and independent candidates. There are the protest voters, who vote to “punish”. The final group is described by Chaples in such a way as to warrant extensive quotation:
The airheads and drongos are the apoliticals of our society. They do not know much about politics, and they care even less. If it were not for compulsory enrolment and voting, the airheads would hardly matter as they often would seldom be enrolled and would hardly ever show up to vote. But in the Australian system, airheads do vote. They may cast a donkey vote (that is, vote for candidates in order either straight up or straight down the ballot), vote informal, vote the name they like best, vote the how-to-vote ticket on the top of those given to them at the voting booth, or who knows what? Often, airheads do not even know how they voted once the exercise is complete. It makes the task of studying their “preferences” very difficult indeed. Drongos, like airheads, know and care very little about parties and public affairs. But drongos still express an opinion about such things. Their information is minimal and their commitment is usually weak and often negative (ibid: 361-362).
This vivid and unflattering portrait of the low-information voter, disengaged from the political system, is perhaps closest to the “swinging voter” of the Australian public imagination. Chaples makes explicit that this group would not vote were they not required to, although he stops short of blaming them for any loss in democratic standards.
Like Chaples, Dean Jaensch also uses motivation when making classifications among undecided voters, although his classificatory systems differ. Seeking to locate ideas around undecided voters within broader historical context, Jaensch recognises the difference between the undecided voter of “traditional liberal theory […] rational, adjudicating voters, those who are informed, aware, and who cast their vote only after a careful analysis of candidates, parties, policies and issues” and the contemporary view of the undecided voter as being apathetic and ignorant (Jaensch 1995: 135). Responding to this, Jaensch makes his own
58 distinctions and argues that although a floating voter might swing, this is because she or he has no party identification. The implication drawn by Jaensch is that “floating” voters (and also “swinging” voters, although he fails to clarify the difference between the two) conform to the dominant notion of the apathetic, uninterested and poorly informed voter (ibid: 136). He also argues that Australian voters in general are becoming increasingly apathetic, a claim refuted some years later by Murray Goot, who examines aggregate data to conclude that apathy and disengagement are perennial features of the Australian electorate (Goot 2002). In addition to “floating” and “swinging” voters, Jaensch identifies a third undecided category, which he terms the “responsive” voter:
These have two of the attributes of swinging and floating voters: they are generally unattached to any specific party; they are willing and able to change their votes from one election to another. What is different is the involvement in the political and electoral processes. The responsive voter is not apathetic. He or she is very interested in politics, well-informed and willing and able to cast a vote in terms of what each of the candidates are willing to offer. The electoral response of the responsive voter may be an individual one, based on what personal benefits and advantages are perceived. The responses may be based on broader perceptions – the “good” of the society, the nation, the state, the region, the collective. But the common theme is engagement with, involvement in, and non-apathetic approach to politics (ibid: 136, emphasis in original).
Jaensch argues that responsive voters put more pressure on parties to develop appealing policies and messages, and increases the importance of election campaigns. He regards the end of the twentieth-century Australia as being more volatile than before, citing the erosion of class structure, the lessening of religion, and ethnicity as factors in social cleavage. In addition, Jaensch argues that voters who are increasingly aware and cynical are causing an overall lessening of party identification as they dealign from the major parties (ibid: 140ff). However, he cautions that an aware electorate is not necessary a civic-minded one. Discussing electoral volatility, he entertains the possibility of two quite different causes:
59 Whether this is due to greater awareness, and the development of the thinking voter, or whether it is due to vacillations caused by the hip-pocket nerve is a matter for conjecture (ibid: 147).
Both of these notions – undecided voters carefully considering their options, or acting purely in financial self-interest – rely on a preconception of them behaving in response to a set of political propositions, so neither conforms to the stereotype of the undecided voter who pays no attention and is completely uninterested. Jaensch argues that responsive voters are part of a broader trend of citizens at a global level becoming more aware, and so could be ushering in a change in the way electoral politics are played, with more citizens participating in democratic processes, and political candidates adjusting their communication accordingly (ibid: 147). While there are inconsistencies in the way Jaensch conceives of the responsive voter, allowing for this type of undecided voter affords him a broadly optimistic view of the future of Australian democracy.
Jaensch’s responsive voters, who may or may not be apathetic (he contradicts himself on this), are akin to a classical view of the ideal independent. Similarly, David Burchell draws a line between cynicism, independence, and a lack of party affiliation:
To be “cynical” about politics is to show that one is not “taken in” by the self-descriptions of our political institutions as popular, but also to suggest that one has in the back of one’s mind another yardstick against which the malfeasances of our political leaders can be pretty accurately judged […this] might be the ethos of the eighteenth-century gentleman politician, who votes on his conscience, unconstrained by party or political ideology (Burchell 2002: 63).
Despite these allowances for a more rational or informed undecided voter, entrenched notions continued to dominate in the years surrounding the turn of the millennium. Scott Bennett, for example, maintained that “the bulk of swinging voters – by definition, the people who actually decide election results – are people who know little about politics and government, care less, and may well vote only
60 to avoid the prospect of a fine”. Bennett observes that undecided voters themselves have a negative effect on the way elections are strategised and run, arguing that campaigns “tend to be shallow, designed to catch the attention of those who might change their vote, and avoiding any discussion of issues in depth” (Bennett 1996: 166). Even though Bennett conforms to an overly simple view of the undecided voter, here he makes the point that if this is the view that is accepted by the parties, then this is the view that dominates political narrative. Bennett himself headed a group advising parliament on the “Decline in Support for Australian Major Parties” in 1999, which cited voter cynicism, post-materialist concerns, and, of course, voter apathy and disengagement as reasons for partisan dealignment; it held up the spectre of minority government as a possible outcome (Bennett 1999). Given it was written against the backdrop of the rise of Pauline Hanson’s One Nation – which was founded in 1997 – this anxiety around minority candidates and parties finds a context.
That the major parties’ view of undecided voters contributes to and reinforces the archetype is clearly evidenced by the fact that one of the most influential contributors to the stereotypical view of the Australian undecided voter as outer- suburban, working class, and disaffected with the political system comes not from a scholar but from Mark Textor, the long-time Liberal Party pollster. Working on the 1996 federal election, he created a now legendary fictional couple, “Phil and Jenny”. The most comprehensive account of Phil and Jenny is from Pamela Williams in her account of that election, The Victory. Williams describes how Phil and Jenny are undecided in their vote because they voted against the GST in the previous election, but now dislike the “arrogant bugger”, prime minister Paul Keating. They want to teach him a lesson, “bring him down a peg or two”, and would ultimately “vote against the party they despise most, rather than for the party they liked most” (Williams 1997: 65). Textor provided Phil and Jenny with very detailed “psychographic” profiles: they were hard-working (he as a warehouseman, she in a building society and in a laundry) yet felt they could not get ahead. They feared for the future of their son, Jason. They resented perceived handouts to minorities. They drove a 1982 Holden Commodore which they could not afford to properly maintain. Williams describes how Liberal party president Andrew Robb “took them on the road as he toured marginal seats, asking his
61 candidates anxiously, ‘Have you talked to Phil and Jenny lately?’” and observes that “Their names became a code for the entire campaign” (ibid: 64-65). The use of this type of profiling of undecided voters has been critiqued by Goot, who cautioned against the tendency of pollsters and journalists to take a multitude of independent variables pertaining to voter characteristics and “forming them into a string” to create a “typical” case which, in fact, exists nowhere (Goot 2001).
The identification of undecided voters as archetypes did not stop with Phil and Jenny. The following decade saw the entry of several new groups into popular political discourse, which attempted to demographically categorise key cohorts of undecided voters. These groups were “Howard’s battlers”, the blue-collar workers who were alienated by the increasingly post-materialist preoccupations of Keating and his government and so switched their vote to John Howard’s Coalition; the “aspirationals” spoken of by Labor Party leaders Mark Latham and Kevin Rudd, who were in essence the battlers, enriched by a decade of relative economic prosperity; and the “doctors’ wives”, who were traditional Liberal voters abandoning their party over issues around the intake and treatment of asylum seekers. Haydon Manning has examined Australian Election Studies (AES) data to test the viability and durability of these supposed cohorts. He found that there was some movement in those demographics, but the data do not support the contention that they formed significant voter blocs (Manning 2006: 283-284). More likely, Manning hypothesises, is a situation where voters are “subject to a complex web of influences as they approach the polls […] many voters will shift party preferences if they feel the shadow of tough economic times and they assess the other party as being fitter to govern.” (ibid: 305). Voters are increasingly likely, argues Manning, to be influenced by short-term pressures and factors than by long-term party affiliations.
In a later paper, Manning returns to the issue of electoral volatility by attempting to historicise undecided voters in Australia since the 1960s. Using AES and census data, he identifies a rise in voters changing sides, which he attributes to voter cynicism, and a collapse of the traditional distinction between the working and the middle class. Manning defines “swinging” voters as either those who claim a degree of partisan identification, yet vote for the other party, or those who
62 claim no partisan identification (Manning 2009: 28-29). He finds unexpected levels of stability in partisan loyalty, especially if responses designed to identify strength of partisan attachment are flattened to be simply positive or negative. Manning recognises that the idea of “swinging voters” as all-important is culturally persuasive and pervasive, and he understands that the way these voters are discussed in popular commentary does not necessarily reflect empirical evidence. However, his reliance on party identification measures as the sole indicator of an undecided voter is limited, as it overlooks voters who may be persuadable, or have never identified with a major party.
In his 2011 book The Australian Voter, Ian McAllister compiles the results of decades of AES research, which remain the most comprehensive source of voter data in the country. Within the framework of these data, the undecided voter is defined as one who leaves very late in an election campaign to decide who he or she will vote for, or the voter who changes his or her vote from election to election. Considering the electorate as a whole, McAllister identifies four types of voters by correlating two responses: how close to election day a voter made his or her decision; and how much he or she cared about the outcome. Those who are invested in the election result, and have made their minds up before the campaign, McAllister determines as “Partisan”. Voters who decide a long way out are unconcerned about the outcome are “Disengaged”. Voters who leave it to the last minute to settle on a candidate and then care about whether that candidate wins are “Calculating”. Finally, those who leave it until the last minute to make their choice and are not concerned with the result are “Capricious”. Partisans are the biggest group, comprising 64% of the population. The other three groups are all equal at 12%. This means that, according to this schema, one third of Australians lack a strong political opinion, and 24% are generally uninformed about politics (McAllister 2011: 101-105).
In dividing the electorate into these categories, McAllister builds upon earlier work about late-deciding voters (Hayes and McAllister 1996; McAllister 2002). Partisans and calculating voters tend to pay more attention to election campaigns, and have a higher level of interest in politics. What McAllister’s schema fails to allow for is the attentive voter who decides well before the election to change his
63 or her vote, and is invested in the outcome, or the voter who is not interested in benefiting themselves, but changes his or her vote late in the election as a way of protesting against or expressing dissatisfaction with their traditional party.
While there is some allowance for complexity in the work by McAllister and other academic and party-generated research – for example the existence of more engaged or interested voters who are also undecided – there has been little serious research done to investigate these voters. Certainly, a stereotypical notion of the suburban, disengaged, apathetic and ignorant voter dominates. That this voter is compelled to vote is frequently regarded in this literature as problematic. The cultural dominance of these views is reflected and perpetuated in media representations of undecided voters, which will be considered briefly.
Undecided voters in Australian mass media
The term “swinging voter” is well-worn in Australian media, and appears regularly in Australian election coverage. While other terms such as “undecided” are sometimes used, it is “swinging voter” which is most prominent. It tends to signify two ideas that jar with each other: on one hand, a citizen of critical importance whose opinion counts more in an election battle than those of partisan voters; yet on the other, a voter who is ignorant, poorly informed, and uninterested. Just as there is a relationship between the ways that writers and scholars regard undecided voters and their perception of the threat these voters may or may not pose to democratic society, so does the co-existence of the dual notions of “swinging” voters as important and unworthy create the basis of a cultural anxiety about the health of the State. This section will utilise material drawn from Australian media sources, as well as interviews conducted for this research with Australian media professionals including political journalists, commentators, presenters, and television producers. It will provide an overview of some of the attitudes towards undecided voters, as represented in our media, and held by those who create it.
“Swinging” voters are accepted in much reporting and commentary as being essential to the Australian political system. In increasingly large numbers, they are
64 the citizens who decide who governs. In media, especially during election campaigns, there are many references to “Key swinging voters” (Farr 2007); “precious swinging voters” (Jones 2001); and “the all-important swinging voters in urban marginal seats” (Murphy 2001). It is proclaimed that “Undecideds hold the key” (Kerr 2007); “Swinging voters are crucial” (Scott 2009); “Swinging voters hate leaders who take them for a ride” (Mitchelmore 2015); and that “In Australia’s two-party democracy, it’s this mysterious group of swinging voters that ultimately decides which party will govern the nation for the next three years” (Anderson 2013). When citizens are interviewed about their political views, it is often pointed out that they are “swinging voters”, as a signal that their views are worth reporting because their vote could influence the election result:
Ignatius Rizzuto is, by nature, a cautious guy. A swinging voter who opted for the Liberals at the last election […] (Overington 2007);
Despite his current disaffection with all things Labor, southwest Sydney swinging voter Jim Jelich says […] (Owens 2013);
Swinging voter John McGrath spent budget day on his tractor, more interested in the possibility of rain than the budget (Wahlquist 2003);
As a Baptist minister and self-confessed swinging voter, Stuart Robinson’s conscience often determines where his ballot is cast (Hoare 2004);
Hazel is in her 60s […] she describes herself as a swinging voter (Walker 2013).
A presenter of a primetime political television program on a commercial network observed: “Elections are always won in the middle. The swinging voter. But the reality is, most people don’t spend their days thinking about politics” (MP-07). This statement points to the central tension: even while the views of these people are said to be important and worthy of media attention, undecided voters are also portrayed as lacking both the time and the discernment to make a reasonable political decision. Their motives are seen to be selfish, and their opinions to lack
65 thought, sophistication, or intelligence. This is regarded as problematic precisely because undecided voters are so important. A veteran of the Canberra press gallery said:
It’s sort of like the ignorant vote decides who wins government in this country. You might have smart people in safe seats, or educated people, who are very political and read everything, but they’re not the ones who decide who governs the country. It’s the people with no time on their hands who often don’t care about politics (MP-02).
Similar views are found in much Australian election commentary. These views are frequently characterised by sweeping, generalised statements that are not backed up by rigorous research:
Swinging voters are typically people who take little interest in the political and economic debate. They are unthinking, short-sighted and self-centred […] They don’t care what’s good for Australia; they want instant relief from whatever’s bugging them at the minute (Gittins 1990);
The reality of modern politics is that while the politicians are berated for greed and cynicism, it is the swinging voters of the middle classes who determine the outcomes of elections in most cases, and they are far more greedy and cynical than most politicians (McGuinness 1996);
It’s the undecided voters who are the fat fish in the election pond […] Those one million-plus voters are the most powerful people in Australia […] They are regarded largely as stupid, unreliable and inconsistent […] Voters who sit in the middle are an unnecessary nuisance and a blight on democracy […] The skill of political parties is to market a set of messages which will lure the undecided out of the gutter in the middle and make them commit their vote. Sounds easy. The trouble is the undecided, by their very nature, don’t have a herd mentality. They are individuals who are either in intellectual conflict or mental confusion (Jory 2013).
66 Perhaps Channel Nine political reporter Laurie Oakes encapsulated this attitude most succinctly, when he asked then-deputy prime minister Wayne Swan whether the Labor party had purchased its 2010 election campaign line “Moving Forward” from a company called “Slogans for Bogans” (Cassidy 2010: 144). Not only are these undecided voters perceived as lacking the mental clarity or ability to form a coherent political thought, but also that they are not making any effort to educate themselves by consuming political media. A senior television producer said of the Australian television audience, “the key swinging audience is disinterested [in politics] to the point of resentment […] I suspect the real swing voters are not people watching TV shows about politics. I think they’re the people who are disengaged in the process” (MP-01).
The disengagement of undecided voters figures large in the practitioner interviews, and so does the propensity to vote out of self-interest. Discussing “Howard’s battlers”, a senior journalist said that Howard “bought them”:
He bought their vote with cash handouts, family tax payments […] They became affluent, and he made it okay to aspire. And these people for the first time were able to send their kids to private school, have two cars, put a pool in front of their McMansions […] Labor lost them and the Libs got them, but they’re volatile, they’ll go back…And they won’t be treated like mugs, they’ll go to whoever’s got the best deal on the table (MP-02).
Asked to describe a typical “swinging” voter, the executive producer of a prime- time commercial current affairs program describes this citizen in similar terms:
Their catch cry is “What’s in it for me?” […] when A Current Affair is on in the family home, quite often Mum’s there battling with the kids, trying to make the spag bol. Trying to get the homework done on the breakfast bar. Trying to get kids in the bath, trying to get kids in the shower, trying to feed them. A Current Affair’s going over there. Dad’s just charged in the door having battled down the M5 in the Hi-Ace, after another long day working on a building site in Wetherill Park, he’s over it. He walks in, he wants to hear what’s going on, how does this affect me, how much more
67 tax am I going to pay, how much more am I going to get from the government for my kids to get them in school, all of those sort of things (MP-12).
These views do not assume passivity and ignorance: they are of an undecided voter who is savvy and able to make an electoral choice which serves his or her best interests. There are some media makers, concentrated among those who are producing less traditional political content (for example satire), who allow for a cohort of undecided voters that is more sophisticated in its political views, and have an interest in politics. However, the dominant image of undecided voters, as represented across Australian media, upholds the demographic stereotype of an outer-suburban, blue-collar working family: Phil and Jenny adapted for the times. The notion of an undecided voter carefully watching the campaign from the vantage point of his or her inner-city warehouse conversion does not find traction in Australian media discourse. Stereotypical “swinging” voters are from the outer suburbs. They are watching reality television and talking about the footy. They are more concerned about their own mortgages than the fate of the entire country. They can be blamed for the political incompetence of leaders, as it is held to be undecided voters who elected them.
Conclusion to Chapters Two and Three
The developing debate about undecided voters reflects a deeper unease and uncertainty about the nature of the model democratic citizen. A functioning democracy depends on its polity having the ability to place a vote that reflects their views, and the possibility that the least informed or interested may be having the greatest impact on our elections is unsettling. There is a fundamental paradox at play. On one hand, there is diversity in the ways undecided voters are measured, described, and conceived of, which suggests a complexity within the cohort. This complexity allows for an electorate that includes undecided voters who resemble the idealised conception of the pure-minded and reasonable independent, found in the pre-survey era; undecided voters who may not be political experts but pick up enough to understand what they are doing in the ballot box; undecided voters who, for reasons that may include disenchantment or
68 activism, consciously place themselves outside of the party system; and undecided voters who conform to the stereotypical notion of the “don’t-know, don’t-care” undecided voter.
On the other hand, it is this last, derogatory portrait that has been dominant in popular discourse, especially in Australia. The idea that the future is being decided by a bunch of ignorant bogans whose brains are being pureed by the trash that constantly spews out of their increasingly enormous televisions has a degree of alarmist charm for commentators, practitioners, political conversationalists and even scholars. Voters who can randomly and ignorantly flick their votes between parties are much more frightening than voters who decide to change their vote after (even a small amount of) consideration. Similarly, partisans who are equally disconnected from political information are less threatening than undecided voters, because they lack the haphazard volatility of their undecided neighbours. Yet, for a government to change, some people need to vote in different ways. The next chapter looks more deeply at Australian election campaigning, the conceptions of undecided voters that inform campaign strategy, and how these notions affect the way elections are conceived and fought.
69
70
Chapter Four Undecided Voters: New ideas, new typologies
The previous two chapters of this thesis explored the history of ideas around undecided voters. The notion of the undecided voter has evolved from idealised images of the free-minded, unbiased “independent” citizen, through the mass- survey era in which undecided voters were reconsidered as far less interested, engaged and concerned, to more recent times, in which scholars are more likely to recognise a variety of types of undecided voter. In popular discourse in Australia, the undecided voter has developed a poor image. Media coverage of election campaigns frequently refers to undecided or “swinging” voters as selfish, apathetic, politically uninterested and even stupid. This chapter employs original survey data to attempt to reach beyond stereotypes, towards a more nuanced picture of undecided voters in contemporary Australia.
A primary objective of this research is to get a clearer picture of undecided voters in Australia, both in broad demographic terms and in regard to behaviour and attitudes. Another objective is to consider their media habits: how are undecided voters receiving political information, if at all? Are there correlations between undecided voters and media products consumed? Further, is there evidence to support the existence of the two dominant archetypes of undecided voters, as either ignorant and apathetic, or independent-minded and virtuous? These curiosities come with a practical purpose: how could political campaigns best identify, engage and persuade this poorly understood cohort?
There are more undecided voters in Australia than ever before, with the proportion of Australians who always vote for the same party declining from 72% to 46% between 1967 and 2013 (McAllister and Cameron 2014: 14). The data presented in this chapter come from a survey of voters, conducted during the final weeks of the 2013 Australian federal election campaign.
71 Hypotheses
This empirical research was conducted to test six hypotheses, which follow the goals outlined above.
H1: Undecided voters are not a single cohort.
H2: Undecided voters do not have clear demographic characteristics that distinguish them from partisan voters.
H3: Differences among undecided voters pertain to attitudes and behaviours such as motivation for changing their votes, levels of political interest and knowledge, and likelihood to engage in conversations about politics; and these factors are interrelated.
H4: Concerns that citizens, and especially undecided voters, have scant regard for civic functions such as voting and the acquiring of political knowledge, are unfounded.
H5: The Australian system of compulsory voting encourages voters to engage with politics and become more informed, at least during election campaigns.
H6: Media use and habits are key factors in identifying differences among undecided voters.
72 Background: the 2013 Australian federal election
The 2013 federal election resulted in a change of government, with the Liberal/National Coalition led by Tony Abbott, clearly defeating Kevin Rudd’s Australian Labor Party (ALP) government. The government had been through a period of unprecedented instability in the years immediately preceding the election. Kevin Rudd had been elected prime minister in a landslide victory in 2007. In June 2010, while serving his first term, Rudd was deposed in a leadership spill, and was replaced by Julia Gillard as both ALP leader and prime minister. The spill proved unpopular with voters, and after a federal election in August 2010, Gillard was only narrowly returned as prime minister, at the helm of a hung parliament. Her polling continued to decline and in June 2013 a second leadership spill saw Rudd resume leadership of the ALP and the nation, and to contest a federal election held on 7 September, 2013.
Abbott ran a successful campaign which was highly critical of the government and was built around negative messaging. Coalition communication – in print and in broadcast media, as well as in advertising material – was dominated by the simple messaging of policy objectives in three word slogans. For example, in both advertising and rhetoric, refugee policy was distilled to “Stop the boats”, and economic policy was expressed as “Axe the tax” or “Big new tax” (Johnson and Wanna 2015: 428). The coalition campaign was able to capitalise on popular perceptions that the ALP lacked unity, following the changes in leadership, public acrimony among high-profile Labor ministers, damaging leaks, and constant leadership speculation in the media. In contrast to the Coalition’s very clear messages, the ALP campaign was confused, lacked overarching themes and narratives, was characterised by surprise prime ministerial announcements, and was described as “chaotic” (Rayner and Wanna 2015: 17). Neither Abbott nor Rudd were popular candidates, with both receiving negative polling during the election campaign (Strangio and Walter 2015: 53; 55).
73 Establishing a typology of “voter groups”
The first hypothesis of this research (H1) is that undecided voters cannot be regarded as a single cohort. If voters are undecided during an election campaign, they probably have different reasons motivating their indecision. Additionally, voters who have already decided ahead of the campaign that they are going to change their vote from the previous election are different from those who were still undecided during the campaign. Using the notion of voter motivation as the starting point, the first question of the Voter Survey was:
Do you have a clear idea of which party you are going to vote for in the upcoming federal election?
Respondents were required to choose one response from the following:
• Yes: I usually vote for the same party • Yes: I’m voting for a different party this time • No: I’m going to wait until the end of the campaign to make up my mind • No: I don’t like any of the parties • No: I don’t follow politics
From these responses, the following typology was developed (Table 4.1). The majority of the respondents, 45.3%, were categorised as “Partisan”: they usually vote for the same party, and intended to do so again in the 2013 election. The next largest group said they didn’t know which party they were going to vote for because they didn’t follow politics. This cohort, comprising 15.9% of respondents, was termed “Uninterested”: this is the group which most closely resembles the politically ignorant, uninterested and disengaged stereotype of the undecided voter. The group categorised as “Disaffected”, accounting for 13.9% of respondents, had not yet chosen who they would vote for because they didn’t like any of the available options. The group termed “Assessors” had not decided because they wanted to watch the campaign and make a decision at its end, and they make up 13.6% of the base sample. The smallest of the groups (11.8%) was
74 termed “Switchers”: they had already decided to switch their vote from one party to another, and were unlikely to be moved by the election campaign.
Table 4.1: Voters in the 2013 Australian federal election by voter group
All but the Partisan group can be classified as undecided voters (Table 4.2). Either they had not yet decided who they were going to vote for a week from the election, or else they had already decided to change their vote. Combined, these groups account for 54.7% of the electorate. Even if one allows for the “hidden partisans” or “leaners” described in Chapter Two, this is still a substantial proportion of the electorate.
75 Table 4.2: Voters in the 2013 Australian federal election: partisan and undecided
That the base sample was able to be split into discrete groups of different types of undecided voters provides basic support for H1. In order to further test the hypothesis that undecided voters are not a heterogeneous group, more specific information about them was required. To obtain this, new variables were created for each of the voter groups, which were then run against other variables to do with demographics, attitudes, behaviour and knowledge. This information also tests H2 and H3.
76 Demographics of voter groups
H2 contends that there are not clear demographic characteristics that define undecided voters. This is supported in the following data, which find no substantial differences between partisans and undecided voters across a range of demographic variables. However, within the groups of undecided voters, there are differences shown with regard to age, gender and education. This finding adds further support to H1.
Regional distribution The distribution of respondents by region, with the categories being metro, regional or remote, separate neither partisans from undecided voters (Fig 4.1), nor the individual voter groups from each other (Fig 4.2). All voter groups are evenly represented across the three regions.
Figure 4.1: Regional distribution: partisan and undecided voters
Regional distribution: Partisan and undecided voters 60 56.8 57
41.7 41 40
Partisan
Undecided Percent 20
1.49 2.01 0 Metro Regional Remote Region Base n= 1,436 Metro n = 817 Regional n = 593 Remote n = 26 Pearson chi2(2) = 0.6041 Pr = 0.7401
77 Figure 4.2: Regional distribution: voter groups
Regional distribution among voter groups 80
60.5
60 56.8 56.5 55.6 55
Partisans
44.1 42 Switchers 41.7 40.8 40 37.3 Assessors
Disaffected Percent Uninterested 20
3.7 2.2 1.5 0.9 1.5 0 Metro Rural Remote Region Base n = 1,436 Metro n = 825 Rural n = 585 Remote n = 26 Pearson chi2(8) = 5.5773 Pr = 0.694
Educational distribution In terms of education levels, the Voter Survey does not find any statistically significant differences between partisans and undecided voters (Fig 4.3). Between the voter groups, there is some variance. As is shown in Figure 4.4, Assessors – those undecided voters who weigh up their decision over the course of an election campaign – are slightly more likely than the other groups to have a tertiary education, more likely to have completed their Higher School Certificate (HSC), and are less likely to have a trade or Technical and Further Education (TAFE) qualification.
The Uninterested, who conform most closely to the stereotypical notion of the “don’t know, don’t care” undecided voter, have an almost equal proportion of university graduates as Partisans, are less likely to have trade/TAFE qualifications, and are broadly comparable in terms of levels of high school education. Uninteresteds are the most likely of all of the groups to have no education, but only 3.7% of them fall into this category. The similarity between Uninterested voters and Partisans in terms of education levels indicates that a
78 common assumption, that undecided voters are also more likely to be lacking in formal education than partisans, is not substantiated.
Figure 4.3: Educational distribution: partisan and undecided voters
Educational distribution: Partisan and undecided voters
40 38.1
33
30
25.5 25.3
21.7 Partisan 19.3 20 18.6
16.4 Undecided Percent
10
1.4 0.7 0 University Trade/ HSC SC/Some None TAFE school Highest level of education attained Base n=1,436 Uni n=365 Trade/TAFE n=507 HSC n=296 High School n=253 None n=15 Pearson chi2(6) = 6.7358 Pr = 0.3636
79 Figure 4.4: Educational distribution: voter groups
Educational distribution among voter groups 50
41.7
40 38.1
31.931.9
29.3 Partisans 30 28 26.9 26.6 25.5 Switchers
22.9 22.3 21.8 21.3 Assessors 19.3 19.2 18.8 18.5 20 17.7 Disaffected 16.4 16.1 Percent Uninterested 10
3.7
0.7 1.4 0 University Trade/ HSC SC/Some None TAFE high Highest level of education attained
Base n=1,436 Uni n=374 Trade/TAFE n=507 HSC n=294 High School n=246 None n=15 Pearson chi2 (24) = 40.8396 Pr = 0.017
Gender distribution The Voter Survey found no difference between partisans and undecided voters in terms of gender (Fig 4.5). Within the voter groups, some differences emerged (Fig 4.6). Partisans, Assessors and the Uninterested are quite evenly divided between the genders. There are more male Switchers than female. As Switchers had made up their minds to change their votes before the election campaign, this could reflect the male Labor voters who were turned off the ALP by Gillard, with the reversion to Rudd coming too late to sway their vote. The greater proportion of female Disaffected voters – those who are swinging their vote because they dislike all options – could possibly indicate a poor reaction to a very negative campaign. More likely is that it reflects Abbott’s deep unpopularity with women: female voters who disliked the government and wanted a change were perhaps put off the coalition by its leader.
80 Figure 4.5: Gender distribution: partisan and undecided voters
Gender distribution: Partisan and undecided voters 60
51.5 50.2 49.8 48.5
40
Partisan
Undecided Percent 20
0 Male Female Gender Base n=1,436 Male n=708 Female n=728 Pearson chi2 (1) = 0.4069 Pr = 0.5267
Figure 4.6: Gender distribution: voter groups
Gender distribution among voter groups 80
63.6 60 59.6
51.9 52 50.2 49.8 48 48.1 Partisans Switchers 40.4 40 36.4 Assessors
Disaffected Percent Uninterested 20
0 Male Female Gender Base n=1,436 Male n=687 Female n=749 Pearson chi2 (4) = 23.2752 Pr = 0.000
81 Age distribution Of all the demographic categories, the most substantial differences between partisans and undecided voters, and within the voter groups, pertain to age. The Voter Survey suggests that older citizens are more likely to be partisan than younger (Fig 4.7). Upon examination of the individual voter groups, more substantial differences appear (Fig 4.8). There is a markedly greater proportion of Uninterested voters than any other group among the two youngest age groups, 17- 24 and 25-34, and there is a lesser proportion of Partisans and Assessors in those younger age groups. That young citizens tend to be less partisan is a common finding of surveys and studies about young people and politics. Various theories have been advanced around this: as people grow older, they become set in their ways, are more likely to have established peer groups that reinforce their ideological beliefs, and have better-formed senses of identity that may have a political stance as a component. Similarly, young people may be less interested in politics because they have not yet acquired the assets and responsibilities that are affected by government decisions, for example home ownership, family and business. It has also been argued that the levels of interest young people show in politics varies, depending on how “politics” is defined (O'Toole et al. 2003).
The voter groups that dominate the oldest groups, 55-65 and 65+, are Partisans and Assessors. The high number of Partisans again reflects the tendency for political opinions to stabilise with age. The high number of Assessors, and the low number of those Uninterested, could indicate an older cohort with more time and a greater inclination to follow politics.
Surprisingly, there is not as high a proportion of Partisans as one might expect through middle age, where there are more Disaffected, and more Assessors. This could suggest a generational shift away from “rusted-on” political opinions, to a political outlook not as focused on major party loyalty (Dalton 2006a).
82 Figure 4.7: Age distribution: partisan and undecided voters
Age distribution: Partisan and undecided voters 25
21.7
19.7 20 19.1
17.3 16.7 17 16.3 15.9 15.5 15 14.9 13.5 Partisan 12.4
10 Undecided Percent
5
0 17-24 25-34 35-44 45-54 55-64 65+ Age group Base n=1,436 17-24 n=202 25-34 n=263 35-44 n=256 45-54 n=247 55-64 n=209 65+ n=258 Pearson chi2 (5) = 16.3601 Pr = 0.0068
Figure 4.8: Age distribution: voter groups
Age distribution among voter groups 30
26.9
24.7 23.9
22.3 22.4 21.7 20.9 20.3
20 18.8 18 Partisans 17.4 17.5 16.7 17 16.7 16.3 16.3 15.8 15.9 Switchers 15.3 15.4 14.1 13.8 13.4 Assessors 12.4 12.5 11.4 Disaffected Percent
10 8.6 8.9 Uninterested
4.7
0 17-24 25-34 35-44 45-54 55-64 65+ Age group Base n=1,436 17-24 n=199 25-34 n=283 35-44 n=280 45-54 n=252 55-64 n=184 65+ n=238 Pearson chi2 (20) = 86.6523 Pr = 0.000
83 Attitudes and behaviour of voter groups
H3 poses that differences among undecided voters pertain to attitudes and behaviours such as motivation for changing their votes, levels of political interest and knowledge, and likelihood to engage in conversations about politics, and that these factors are interrelated. When considered as a bloc, undecided voters are less likely to be interested and engaged than partisans. However, this does not tell the whole story. These data show that, when undecided voters are considered by voter group and not as a single unit, there are differences across the factors of interest, talking politics, and knowledge. The data also suggest that there is a relationship between these factors, with Uninterested voters reporting consistently low levels of political interest, conversation and knowledge. Assessors, and to a lesser extent Switchers, consistently reported higher levels of all of these. These results lend strong support to H3.
As well as general attitudes towards politics, an aim of this survey was to explore the sense of civic responsibility held by citizens. This was to test the stereotypical idea that Australians, and undecided voters in particular, are disengaged from civil society, and have a poor opinion of the country’s political system. H4 proposes that Australian citizens, especially undecided voters, have a sense of civic responsibility that is sufficiently high to assuage fears to the contrary. H5 proposes that compulsory voting encourages political engagement and the seeking out of political information. The following data provide strong support for H3 and H4, and cautious support for H5.
Civic engagement and responsibility were measured with the following questions:
Are you interested in politics? • Very interested • Quite interested • Interested but only during elections • Not especially interested • Not at all interested
84
Do you talk about politics with friends and family? • All the time • Only during elections • Rarely • Never
Would you still vote if it were not a legal requirement? • Yes/ No/ Not sure
How important is it to learn about politics? • Very • A little • Not particularly • Not at all
Interest in politics When partisan voters are compared with undecided voters considered as a single bloc, the split supports the classic contention of Paul Lazarsfeld et al. (Lazarsfeld, Berelson and Gaudet 1944), Angus Campbell et al. (Campbell, Gurin and Miller 1954) and Philip Converse (Converse 1962) that overall, partisans are more interested in politics than non-partisans (Fig 4.9). During elections, however, the proportions of partisans and undecided voters who profess an interest in politics draws level, providing support for H5. Finally, when undecided voters are considered not as a bloc but by their different voter groups, there is substantial divergence in levels political interest (Fig 4.10). If the responses “very interested” and “quite interested” are combined to form an overall group of interested respondents, the undecided voter groups of Switchers (63%) and Assessors (60.7%) each register a higher proportion of voters interested in politics than Partisans at 57.3%. This is a reminder that a decision to align with a political party can be the product of factors other than an interest in politics, for example party affiliation can be due to family tradition. A higher level of Assessors than any other voter group report to be interested in politics during the election, which
85 reflects their desire to follow the election campaign before forming a decision on how to cast their vote.
When those responding “not especially interested” and “not at all interested” are combined, there is a substantial proportion (37%) of Disaffected voters who report a low interest in politics, with a substantial proportion not especially concerned with what those within the political sphere are doing. The finding that the overwhelming majority of Uninteresteds report little or no interest in politics is to be expected.
Figure 4.9: Interest in politics: partisan and undecided voters
Are you interested in politics? 50
41.3 40
32.6
30 28.7 Partisan
22.3
19.1 20 Undecided
Percent 16 14.3 13.9
10 5.7 6.1
0 Very Quite Only during Not Not at all elections especially Response Base n=1,436 Very n=149 Quite n=525 Elections n=202 Not esp n=370 Not at all n=190 Pearson chi2 (4) = 93.8750 Pr = 0.000
86 Figure 4.10: Interest in politics: voter groups
Are you interested in politics? 60
54.7
47.6 47.4 46.4
41.3
40 37.2 Partisans
Switchers 31.4 Assessors 25.4 Disaffected 22.3 Percent Uninterested 20 18.7 18.5 16 15.4 14.3 14.1 13
9.7
6 6.1 4.2 3.2 3.6 2.2 0.4 0.9 0 Very Quite Only during Not Not at all elections especially Response
Base n=1,436 Very n=144 Quite n=517 Elections n=205 Not esp n=377 Not at all n=193 Pearson chi2 (16) = 523.0633 Pr = 0.000
Talking about politics The responses to the question “Do you talk about politics with friends and family?” are similar to those regarding interest in politics. Once again, when undecided voters are considered as a single group, they are shown to be less interested in politics overall (Fig 4.11). However, when considered by voter group, the picture changes (Fig 4.12): a greater proportion of Switchers and Assessors reported a likelihood to discuss politics than the Disaffected, the Uninterested and Partisans. Assessors were more likely to talk about politics during an election campaign, reflecting their interest in following the campaign to form their decision. The correlations between voter groups across Figures 4.10 and 4.12 provide support for the contention in H3 that political interest and engagement are inter-related.
87 Figure 4.11: Talking about politics: partisan and undecided voters
Do you talk about politics with friends and family? 50 46
40 36
32.6
30 28.1 Partisan 24.1
20 Undecided Percent 14.1 11.8
10 7.3
0 All the time Only during Rarely Never elections Response Base n=1,436 All the time n=267 During elections n=433 Rarely n=596 Never n=140 Pearson chi2(3) = 37.6485 Pr = 0.000
Figure 4.12: Talking about politics: voter groups
Do you talk about politics with friends and family? 80
65.3
60
53.1 Partisans 47 Switchers 39.8
40 36 Assessors 32.6 30.530.7 Disaffected
Percent 27.3 25.1 24.1 23.3 Uninterested 20 19.3 13.9
9.7 6.5 7.3 4.6 3 0.9 0 All the time Only during Rarely Never elections Response
Base n=1,436 All the time n=264 During elections n=430 Rarely n=599 Never n=143 Pearson chi2(12) = 256.7739 Pr = 0.000
88 Attitudes to voting When asked the question “Would you still vote if it weren’t a legal requirement?”, an overwhelming majority of partisans (76.6%) answered that they would. This was more than the grouped undecided voters, although a majority of them (54.1%) claimed they would vote even if it were not a legal requirement (Fig 4.13). Figure 14 shows that when considering the voter groups individually, the Switchers (75.7%) and Assessors (75.3%) answered yes at levels equal to Partisans. Disaffected voters say they would be less likely to vote if it were voluntary, however 44.7% still said they would. Uninterested voters reported the least likelihood to vote voluntarily.
Figure 4.13: Compulsory voting: partisan and undecided voters
Would you still vote if it weren't a legal requirement?
80 76.6
60 54.1
Partisan 40
Undecided
Percent 26.7
20 19.3
11.5 11.9
0 Yes No Not sure Response Base n=1,436 Yes n=923 No n=285 Not sure n=228 Pearson chi2 (2) = 81.5914 Pr = 0.000
89 Figure 4.14: Compulsory voting: voter groups
Would you still vote if it weren't a legal requirement?
80 76.6 75.7 75.3
60
Partisans 47 44.7 Switchers
40 Assessors 33.5 Disaffected Percent
26.7 26.3 Uninterested
21.8 20 17.8 15.5
11.5 11.9 8.8 6.9
0 Yes No Not sure
Response
Base n=1,436 Yes n=910 No n=291 Not sure n=235 Pearson chi2 (8) = 253.5513 Pr = 0.000
Importance of learning about politics The vast majority of respondents (90%) from all voter groups believe that it is either very or a little bit important, to learn about politics. When undecided voters are considered as a single group, they are less concerned about gaining political information and knowledge than partisans (Fig 4.15). However, Figure 4.16 shows that when undecided voters are considered by individual voter groups, the split between the groups becomes more pronounced, with Switchers and Assessors clearly differentiated from the Uninterested and, to a lesser extent, the Disaffected. When the two positive responses, “very” and “a little” are combined, there are almost no differences between Partisans (95%), Switchers (94.9%) and Assessors (97.4%). This compares to 84.7% of the Disaffected voters, and 73.2% of the Uninterested. Very large proportions of all voter groups give positive responses to this question.
There is an argument that these responses could be compromised because respondents know that it is “proper” to answer a question about civic
90 responsibility positively. However, in this instance this concern is less applicable, as the question relates to an attitude, not a behaviour. So, it is a sign of civic virtue that respondents think that it is important to learn about politics, thereby reinforcing the result, rather than detracting from it. Even among the Uninterested, more than 70% think it is very or a little important to learn about politics, which suggests that political knowledge is an aspiration even for those who do not actively pursue it.
Figure 4.15: Learning about politics: partisan and undecided voters
How important is it to learn about politics?
60 58.9
45.3
41.6 40 36.1 Partisan
Undecided Percent 20
9.9
4.5 3.2
0.5 0 Very A little Not particularly Not at all Response
Base n = 1,436 Very n=709 A little n=591 Not particularly n=107 Not at all n=28 Pearson chi2(3) = 56.0358 Pr = 0.000
91 Figure 4.16: Learning about politics: voter groups
How important is it to learn about politics?
60 58.958.8
55.1
51.8
45.6
42.5 42.2
40 Partisans 36.136.1 Switchers
Assessors
Disaffected Percent
19.8 Uninterested 20 18.1
11.3
7
4.5 4.6 4 2 0.5 0.5 0.6 0 Very A little Not particularly Not at all
Response
Base n = 1,436 Very n=702 A little n=598 Not particularly n=108 Not at all n=28 Pearson chi2(12) = 182.1544 Pr = 0.000
Political Knowledge As well as proposing that political interest and engagement would differentiate the groups of undecided voters, H3 also posits that political knowledge plays a factor. Two survey questions were asked in order to assess political knowledge; one about politicians and one about policy. The survey adopted Pippa Norris’ idea of “practical” political knowledge, which proposes that questions about current political events and actors provide a more realistic insight into a population’s political knowledge than questions pertaining to political institutions, structures, laws and conventions (Norris 2000: 30-31). A similar approach has been identified by other scholars including John Zaller, who terms it “political awareness testing” (Zaller 1992: 17-22).
The first question regarding political knowledge was “Who is the shadow treasurer?”, with respondents choosing between:
• Julie Bishop
92 • Barnaby Joyce • Joe Hockey (correct answer) • Wayne Swan • Don’t know
The second question pertaining to political knowledge focused on environment policy, which had received substantial media coverage at the time of the survey, and on which there were clear differences between the parties. The ALP was proposing an Environmental Trading Scheme (ETS), having abolished plans to introduce a carbon tax. The Liberal/National Coalition, which had lobbied heavily against the carbon tax, was campaigning on the introduction of a “green army” of citizens, who would plant trees to combat carbon emissions.
The question was “What is the centrepiece of Prime Minister Kevin Rudd’s environment policy?”, with the following possible answers:
• Carbon tax • Emission Trading Scheme (correct answer) • Green Army • Don’t Know
When undecided voters were considered as a single group, they performed less well on this question than partisans (Fig 4.17). However, when the undecided group was split into voter groups, there were differences found between the groups, and Partisans and Assessors answered correctly at a level comparable to Partisans (Fig 4.18). A majority of voters in all groups except the Uninterested were able to provide the correct answer, with Assessors (72.7%) and Partisans (70%) giving the largest proportion of correct responses. A large proportion (56%) of Uninteresteds did not know the answer.
The question about environment policy yielded similar findings. A smaller proportion of voters overall answered this question correctly, with a greater proportion reporting not to know the answer. Overall, undecided voters scored
93 worse than partisans (Fig 4.19), but when considered in voter groups, the results were consistent across the two questions, with the Uninterested less likely to know the answer than the other groups (Fig 4.20). However, the other undecided voter groups demonstrate levels of political knowledge roughly on par with Partisans. Switchers and Assessors have the biggest proportions of voters giving the correct answers. Overall, the majority of voters were able to answer both questions correctly.
Figure 4.17: Knowledge, shadow treasurer: partisan and undecided voters
Who is the shadow treasurer? 80
70
60 58
Partisan 40
26.5 Undecided Percent 20 14.3 12 10.9
2.7 2.1 2.1 1.4 0 Julie Barnaby Joe Wayne Don't Bishop Joyce Hockey Swan know Answer Base n=1,436 Bishop n=34 Joyce n=25 Hockey n=911 Swan n=165 Don’t know n=301 Pearson chi2 (4) = 35.3331 Pr = 0.000
94 Figure 4.18: Knowledge, shadow treasurer, among voter groups
Who is the shadow treasurer? 80
72.7 70
65 65.4
60 56
Partisans
Switchers
40 Assessors
32.5 Disaffected Percent Uninterested 20 19.7 15.3 14.3 11.8 12.912.9 10.9 10.9 10.6
5.6 2.7 2.1 2 2.1 1.5 1 0.9 1.2 0 Julie Barnaby Joe Wayne Don't Bishop Joyce Hockey Swan know
Answer
Base n=1,436 Bishop n=33 Joyce n=25 Hockey n=902 Swan n=168 Don’t know n=308 Pearson chi2 (16) = 207.7061 Pr = 0.000
Figure 4.19: Knowledge, environment policy: partisan and undecided voters
What is the centrepiece of PM Rudd's environment policy? 80
60.1 60
49 Partisan 40 32.8 Undecided Percent
18.6 19.3 20 17.1
2 1.1 0 Carbon tax ETS Green army Don't know Answer Base n=1,436 Carbon tax n=254 ETS n=769 Green army n=22 Don’t know n=391 Pearson chi2 (12) = 147.5066 Pr = 0.000
95 Figure 4.20: Knowledge, environment policy, among voter groups
What is the centrepiece of PM Rudd's environment policy? 80
63 61.8 60.1 60 55.7 Partisans
48.7 Switchers
Assessors 40 34.1 Disaffected Percent Uninterested 26.5
21.5 21.4 18.6 19.3 20 16.7 15.6 15.5 15.1
2 1.6 2.3 0.5 0 Carbon tax ETS Green army Don't know
Answer Base n=1,436 Carbon tax n=254 ETS n=769 Green army n=22 Don’t know n=391 Pearson chi2 (12) = 147.5066 Pr = 0.000
Media use among voter groups
H6 contends that media use and habits are key factors in identifying differences among undecided voters, and by extension, media consumption can be a predictor as to which voter group one might belong to. Hence, the Voter Survey included questions about media consumption habits, with a focus on media which include explicitly political content. This survey of media consumption habits was conducted at a more granular level than ever before in Australia. Australian scholars have typically drawn on combinations and comparisons of Australian Election Study (AES) and Australian Survey of Social Attitudes (AuSSA) datasets, and ratings/circulation figures from media organisations. However, prior to this study, there has not been a dataset that looks at types of voters, their attitudes and political behaviours, and the specific television programs they watch, over a single sample group.
96 The first media-related question sought to determine which media platforms voters favoured: “From which media source do you get the majority of your political information?” Only one response was allowed, from a choice of:
• Television • Radio • Newspapers • Online: websites of mainstream media organisations, e.g. ABC website, news.com.au • Online: blogs, non-mainstream news sites e.g. Crikey • Online: social media e.g. Facebook and Twitter
Television dominates as the primary source of political information for all voters, partisans and all groups of undecided voters. Media use is not a differentiating factor when comparing partisans with the homogenous group of undecided voters (Fig 4.21). Figure 4.22 shows some small differences between undecided voter groups, with the Uninterested once again emerging as the outliers. A higher proportion of Uninterested voters – 6.8% as opposed to less than 2% for all the other groups – use social media as a political information source, most likely a reflection of the cohort’s youth.
97 Figure 4.21: Main media source for politics: partisan and undecided voters
Main media source for political information 80
62.2 61.9 60
Partisan 40
Undecided Percent
20 13.8 14.1 12.3 12.5
7.8 7.2
2.6 2.3 2 1.3
0 TV Radio Newspapers Online: Online: blogs Social media mainstream & indys Media source Base n=1,436 TV n=890 Radio n=108 Paper n=189 Online m/s n=189 Blogs/Indys n=30 Social n=30 Pearson chi2 (5) = 4.5387 Pr = 0.4776
Figure 4.22: Main media source for politics: voter groups
Main media source for political information 80
64.9 64.1 64.2 62.2 60
52.7 Partisans
Switchers
40 Assessors
Disaffected Percent Uninterested 20 15.9 15.3 13.513.2 14.114.1 12.5 12.3 13 12.6
7.8 8.5 6.46.2 6.8 4.7 3.6 2.4 2.3 1.3 1.3 1.5 0.9 1.2 0.5
0 TV Radio Newspapers Online: Online: blogs Social media mainstream & indys Media source Base n=1,436 TV n=892 Radio n=107 Paper n=184 Online m/s n=192 Blogs/Indys n=31 Social n=30 Pearson chi2 (20) = 48.5820 Pr = 0.000
98
Looking more deeply into media consumption habits, respondents were asked to identify television programs that they regularly watched, from the list below. They were able to pick more than one program. Information about the television programs surveyed can be found in Appendix E. This more granular examination of media habits needed to be limited to television in order to be able to present the same options to a national survey sample, and avoid complications that would arise with regional differences in newspapers and radio programming. All of the following programs were broadcasting to a national audience in August 2013.
• ABC News • Channel 7 News • Channel 9 News • Channel 10 News • SBS News • A Current Affair • Today Tonight • 7.30 • Dateline • Four Corners • 60 Minutes • Sunday Night • Q&A • The Project • Sunrise • The Today Show • The Chaser • Annabel Crabb’s Kitchen Cabinet • The Insiders • Lateline • I don’t watch any of these shows
99 Among all voter groups there is a proportion of voters who do not consume any political television or news/current affairs programs at all. In this regard, Partisans, Assessors and Disaffected are all reasonably similar, with around one in ten respondents in each of those groups avoiding these genres of programming. Switchers are more likely to watch politics-related programs, with only 5.3% reporting that they don’t watch any at all. It is not surprising that a comparatively high 26.5% of Uninterested voters don’t watch explicitly political television programs (Fig 4.23).
Figure 4.23: No political programs watched: voter groups
TV shows watched regularly: none of these shows
30
26.5
20 Partisan
Switcher
Assessor
Percent Disaffected 11.6 Uninterested 10 9.6 9.3
5.3
0 I don't watch any of these shows Response
Base n=174 Partisan n=64 Switcher n=9 Assessor n=18 Disaffected n=24 Uninterested n=59 Pearson chi2 (4) = 54.2509 Pr = 0.000
Commercial television news As shown in Table 4.3, across the commercial television news programs, the survey found no significant differences between voter groups in their consumption of Nine News (≈ 2(4)=4.9216 Pr=0.295), Seven News (≈ 2(4)=4.4489 Pr=0.349), Ten News (≈ 2(4)=1.8454 Pr=0.764), Sunrise (≈ 2(4)=5.0720 Pr=0.280) or The Today Show (≈ 2(4)=3.0292 Pr=0.553). All of the commercial television news programs are watched by substantial proportions of all of the voter groups.
100 Table 4.3: Commercial news watchers: voter groups
Commercial television current affairs Table 4.4 shows slightly more differences between the voter groups when commercial current affairs viewers are examined. A smaller proportion of Uninterested voters watch the longer-form current affairs programs 60 Minutes (≈ 2(4)=12.7405 Pr=0.013) and Sunday Night (≈ 2(4)=14.3147 Pr=0.006). However no substantial differences were found between voter groups’ likelihood to watch A Current Affair (≈ 2(4)=4.7869 Pr=0.310), Today Tonight (≈ 2(4)=3.8282 Pr=0.430) or The Project (≈ 2(4)=2.6793 Pr=0.613).
101 Table 4.4: Commercial current affairs watchers: voter groups
Political programs on public broadcasters Watching commercial television news and current affairs does not reveal any substantial differences between voter groups. However, when considering television programs with political content on the public broadcasters, the situation changes. As shown in Tables 4.5 and 4.6, higher proportions of Switchers and Assessors consume political content on the public broadcasters, ABC and SBS, than the other voter groups. Slightly lower proportions of Partisans and the Disaffected tune into these networks, and very few Uninterested choose political shows on ABC and SBS.
102 Table 4.5: ABC watchers: voter groups
103 Table 4.6: SBS watchers: voter groups
Use of social media The Voter Survey also included a question about voters’ use social media: “If you use social media (Facebook, Twitter, etc), what do you use it for?”. Respondents were invited to pick multiple options.
• Connecting with my friends • Networking for my career • Playing online games • Following the news • Learning about politics • Participating in political activity (petitions, posting about politics, etc) • Communicating opinions about politics (eg Tweeting) • Other (with option to say what) • I don’t use social media
104 Figure 4.24 shows that there are no clear differentiators between partisans and undecided voters across types of social media use, with the exception of their use for politics, which shows use by a higher proportion of partisans than undecided voters. Similarly, Figure 4.25 shows that political behaviour was the only use of social media that showed any significant differences between voter groups. A quarter (25%) of Switchers used social media for some sort of political activity, with slightly lower proportions of Assessors and Partisans. Very few (2.9%) of Uninterested voters used social media for politics. There were no significant differences in social media use between voter groups across the other activities, mostly people use social media for connecting with friends. Fewer Uninterested voters than any other voting group choose not to use social media, again most likely a reflection of their youth.
Figure 4.24: Use of social media; partisans and undecided voters
Use of social media
80
62.9 60 59.1
Partisan 40
31.9
Percent 30.3 Undecided
20 17.3 17.5 18.1 14.3 13.2 10.9 9.5 8.8
2.9 2 0 Friends Career Gaming News Politics Other Don't use Use of social media Base n=1,436 Friends n=879 Career n=131 Gaming n=250 News n=197 Politics n=203 Other n=34 Don’t use n=446 Friends: Pearson Chi2(1)=2.2233 Pr=0.1405; Career: Pearson: Chi2(1)=0.1924 Pr=0.6587; Gaming: Pearson Chi2(1)=0.0152 Pr=0.9016; News Pearson Chi2(4)=4.6194 Pr=0.3263 Politics Pearson Chi(1)=5.2873 Pr=0.0016; Other Pearson Chi(1)=1.3488 Pr=0.2515 Don’t use Pearson Chi(1)=0.4039 Pr=0.5315
105 Figure 4.25: Use of social media: voter groups
Use of social media 80
69.5
63.2 60 59.158.8 59
Partisan
Switcher
40 36.2 Assessor
31.9 31.5 29.4 Disaffected
Percent 25 24.7 Uninterested
18.718.8 17.3 18.1 20 15.716.4 16.4 14.3 14.9 12.4 13.2 10.1 9.5 9.7 8.8 9.6 6.9 5.3 2.9 2.9 1.42.12 2.3 0 Friends Career Gaming News Politics Other Don't use Use of social media Base n=1,436 Friends n=879 Career n=131 Gaming n=250 News n=197 Politics n=202 Other n=34 Don’t use n=319 Friends: Pearson Chi2(4)=8.7663 Pr=0.0722; Career: Pearson: Chi2(4)=1.5567 Pr=0.8152; Gaming: Pearson Chi2(4)=1.0106 Pr=0.9068; News Pearson Chi2(4)=4.6194 Pr=0.3263 Politics Pearson Chi(4)=19.5412 Pr=0.0006; Other Pearson Chi(4)=1.7237 Pr=0.7998 Don’t use Pearson Chi(4)=7.0441 Pr=0.1438
Further analysis of voter groups
So far, the Voter Survey has found some support for all of the proposed hypotheses. Some of the findings, in particular the correlations between a citizen being interested in and talking about politics, and the types of media that citizen consumes, warrant further examination. In addition, it is worth investigating whether age, the demographic factor that most differentiated the voter groups, has an interaction with any of these other behaviours.
Initially, linear models were used to see whether a prediction rule that operated across all respondents could be discovered. Both linear discriminant analysis and multinomial logistic regression failed to demonstrate any relationships beyond what has already been shown: that the Uninterested voters are the outliers, and that not being interested in politics and not talking about politics was a strong predictor of being part of the Uninterested voter group. An alternative approach was then pursued, looking at subsets of predictor variables to do with
106 demographics and television programs viewed, with the aim of determining whether interactions between any of these variables might predict which voter group a particular respondent belonged to.
This analysis was conducted using the Partition module in JMP version 12 (SAS Institute, September 2013). At each stage of subsequent analysis, the list of candidate variables was reviewed to see whether the most statistically useful candidate was both meaningful in context and made a more substantial difference to the variance that would be explained when compared to the next potential candidate. The particular group in question was then split using what was judged to be the most appropriate candidate variable. Only groups with more than 100 respondents were considered as candidates for splitting at each stage in the analysis.
The first split of the total sample (n=1,436) came from the question “How often do you talk about politics?” As was found in the bivariate analysis, the Uninterested group was strongly represented in those who reported not to talk about politics, with Switchers and Assessors showing a greater likelihood to do so. The second split in both sub-groups was based on age, with younger voters (<44) who rarely or never discussed politics most likely to be Uninterested, and a higher proportion of older voters (45+) who reported regularly discussing politics falling into the Assessors voter group (Fig 4.26).
Figure 4.26: Partitions of voter groups by dominant predictor variables: talking politics and age
107
A final split was found among the group of voters who regularly talk about politics, according to whether they regularly watched ABC panel program Q&A (Fig 27). Q&A was chosen as the program to test because it created the biggest split between the voter groups, with substantial proportions of Assessors (28.7%) and Switchers (26.4%) regularly watching the program, and only 1.9% of Uninterested voters watching (Table 4.5).
Figure 4.27: Partitions of voter groups by dominant predictor variables: talking politics, age, watch Q&A
The Uninterested voters are clearly differentiated across talking politics and watching Q&A, regardless of age. This differentiation is clearly visible in Figure 4.28, a lift curve graph which shows the relative extent to which voter groups could be differentiated by each sequential split in the data presented in tree form in Figure 4.27.
108 Figure 4.28: Lift Curve of voter groups by dominant predictor variables: talking politics, age, watch Q&A
The appearance of Q&A as a splitting factor suggested that current affairs viewing habits could be an important factor in seeking a class of variables that differentiate the voter groups. In order to rationalise the many television programs that were surveyed into more manageable units, clusters of programs that were watched by similar groups of respondents were formed. The clusters of programs were determined by creating a contingency matrix in which the programs were then grouped using Ward’s Linkage. The programs clustered are illustrated in Figure 4.29.
109 Figure 4.29: Clusters of television programs
Programs that formed clusters were:
• SBS News, Dateline, Kitchen Cabinet, Insiders, Lateline and The Chaser • 7.30, Four Corners and Q&A • Channel 7 News and Sunrise • Channel 9 News, Channel 10 News and The Project • A Current Affair and Today Tonight • 60 Minutes, Sunday and The Today Show • ABC News was in its own discrete category
Overwhelmingly, the clusters separate commercial and public broadcaster content (Fig 29), supporting the findings of the bivariate analysis that showed that the Uninterested voters were not watching politics on the ABC or SBS. The Assessors and the Switchers contained the largest proportion of voters viewing political programs on the public broadcasters; they also had the larger proportion of respondents answering the political knowledge questions correctly (Figs 4.17 and
110 4.18), and indicating they were interested in politics (Fig 4.9). This is supported by international and Australian research that finds public broadcasting audiences are more politically engaged and knowledgeable (Curran et al. 2014; Jones and Pusey 2010).
The bottom-line clusters of television programs were then used to create individual variables. These were then examined with subsets of predictor variables to do with demographics and social media habits, again with the aim of predicting voter groups of respondents. The commercial program clusters did not emerge as statistically significant predictors of belonging to any particular voter group. However, the cluster of programs including 7.30, Four Corners, or Q&A, all broadcast on the ABC, emerged as the first split, and was distributed among voter groups as shown in Table 4.7.
Table 4.7: 7.30, Four Corners and Q&A watchers: voter groups
Of those who claimed to watch these programs, relatively greater proportions were Assessors, Switchers and Partisans, while relatively smaller proportions of those who reported not to watch them were in the Disaffected and Uninterested voter categories. The two groups formed out of those who did and did not watch
111 the current affairs programs 7.30, Four Corners or Q&A were then assessed to see whether they split further in meaningful ways. Those who reported that they did watch these programs (n=434) further split between those who reported to also watch ABC News, and those who did not. Their split is shown in Table 4.8. The number of respondents across all voter groups who watch the current affairs cluster and also reported to watching ABC News (n=282) is greater than those who don’t also watch ABC News (n=152). Not one of these frequent consumers of political content on the ABC were Uninterested voters.
Table 4.8: 7.30, Four Corners and Q&A and ABC News watchers: voter groups
Across the results from Tables 4.7 and 4.8, news and current affairs viewing habits emerged as more dominant predictors of membership of a voter group than demographic factors.
112 Discussion
The first hypothesis of this research (H1) is that undecided voters cannot be regarded as a single cohort. This was overwhelmingly supported at every stage of the survey. It was suggested by the initial split of the base sample into voter groups, which were based on the motivations the respondents had for changing their votes. It was reinforced by the comparisons of the data when the undecided group was considered as a whole, as well as the data when it was split into discrete voter groups, which consistently showed that the single grouping of undecided voters was not reflective of behaviours and attitudes of substantial sub- groups within the larger cohort. It was then supported by subsequent findings of differences between the voter groups pertaining to a range of demographic, behavioural and attitudinal characteristics (Table 4.1). Based on these results, traditional thinking that holds undecided voters to be a cohort that can be unilaterally targeted in an election campaign requires clarification and revision. These data suggest that some of the previous understandings around undecided voters are simplistic, and the stereotype of the ignorant, apathetic undecided voter is over-stated; although undecided voters in the Uninterested voter group conform to this image, those in other voter groups do not.
H2 poses that there are not clear demographic characteristics that distinguish undecided voters from partisans. This was supported with regard to regional distribution (Figs 4.1, 4.2), education (Figs 4.3, 4.4) and gender (Figs 4.5, 4.6). There were differences found in age between partisans and undecided voters, as well as among the voter groups, which suggest that larger proportions of older populations are partisan (Figs 4.7, 4.8). However, despite the differences found in the variable factor of age, these results suggest that stereotyping around undecided voters, which holds that they are more likely to be female or regional, or that they are more likely than partisans to have trades rather than tertiary education, is not founded.
The third hypothesis (H3) is that differences among undecided voters pertain to attitudes and behaviours such as motivation for changing their votes, levels of political interest, and likelihood to engage in conversations about politics, and that
113 these factors are inter-related. H3 was strongly supported in these data, which found that Assessors and Switchers were substantially more likely to be interested in, and to discuss politics than Uninterested and, to a lesser extent, Disaffected voters (Figs 4.10, 4.12). They were also more likely to answer questions about politics correctly (Figs 4.18, 4.20). These voter group differentiations were consistent across the areas of political interest, likelihood to discuss politics and political knowledge.
H4 poses that voters, and especially undecided voters, have higher than suspected regard for civic functions such as voting and learning about politics. This hypothesis was strongly supported by the data. High proportions of all voter groups would vote regardless of its being compulsory, and high proportions of all groups also regard the acquisition of political knowledge as important (Figs 4.18, 4.20). This is true of the Assessors and Switchers, who are generally more interested and informed, but also the Disaffected and the Uninterested groups, who still recognise the importance of acquiring political knowledge.
H5 is that the Australian system of compulsory voting encourages political engagement and the acquisition of political knowledge for the purposes of voting. These data lend some support to this contention, finding that 14.1% of voters are interested in politics when there are elections imminent (Figs 4.9, 4.10), and 30.2% discuss politics more frequently during election campaigns (Figs 4.11, 4.12). Further, the Assessor group, which comprises 13.7% of the base sample was formed because it bases its decision on campaign events and messages. Assessors are more likely to discuss politics, be interested in politics, have good levels of political knowledge, and consume media of a political nature; they resemble the classic liberal ideal of the “independent” voter.
The final hypothesis of this research is that media habits are a key indicator of what voter group a citizen would fall into. This hypothesis is strongly supported by these results, which suggest that media use is a significant differentiator of voter groups, and that the consumption of political content on public broadcasters a particularly strong differentiator (Tables 5, 6 and 8). Voter groups are all reasonably comparable in their consumption of political media on commercial 114 television networks (Tables 4.3, 4.4), but Partisans, Switchers and especially Assessors are substantially more likely to consume political programs on the ABC and SBS than the Disaffected and the Undecided, who consume almost no political content on the public broadcasters (Tables 4.5, 4.6).
Conclusions
It has been argued in the previous chapters of this thesis that discourse around undecided voters can fall into stereotypes: they can be regarded as virtuously independent, model citizens, or they can be seen as politically ignorant, uninterested and apathetic. However, the results of the Voter Survey do not support these stereotypes. Not only do these data suggest that there are no clear demographic distinctions between undecided voters and partisans, they also support a contention that undecided voters are motivated by a range of factors, and have differing levels of political sophistication.
Further, different groups of undecided voters have different media habits. The Uninterested voter group derives almost all its political information from commercial television, a finding which supports the contention often heard from political communications strategists that if you would like to reach those undecided voters with a low interest in politics, you target commercial television (and radio) programs. But these data also suggest that if the relatively substantial undecided voter cohorts of Switchers or Assessors are to be targeted, the public broadcasters are worth including in a media strategy. Assessors in particular are consumers of political content on the ABC, with 28.7% of them regularly watching Q&A, 25% watching Four Corners and 22% watching 7.30.
These findings have ramifications for practitioners from the fields of politics and media. Political practitioners involved in the design and strategy of election campaigns could benefit from recognising the diversity of undecided voters, and build campaign messaging to appeal to a variety of different levels of political sophistication. Similarly, the focus on commercial television for political communication runs the risk of ignoring and even alienating the substantial number of undecided voters who are receiving information from the public 115 broadcasters. Furthermore, political content shouldn't be eschewed by commercial news makers: explicitly political content delivers solid ratings for commercial broadcasters. For example, an interview by journalist Ray Martin with former Prime Minister Julia Gillard won its primetime timeslot for Channel Nine in September 2014 (Lallo 2014).
Finally, these data provide an argument for the benefits of compulsory voting. It seems to have engendered a positive attitude towards voting in the general population, and encourages political conversation and interest during election times. Further, voting itself is very positively regarded across all voter groups, which could have something to do with its familiarity to Australian citizens.
Overall, the results of this survey suggest that a better understanding of variations among undecided voters, and a recognition of the centrality of media behaviour as a factor in these differences, will enable a sophisticated and targeted approach to election campaigning, political communication, and campaign messaging. Whether this view is recognised and shared by the professionals who design and oversee election campaigns in Australia will be investigated in the next chapter.
116 Chapter Five The role of undecided voters in Australian elections
Having proposed that undecided voters are a heterogeneous cohort, who are undecided for a variety of reasons, it is useful to ask the question: what conception of undecided voters is recognised and utilised by the professionals who plan and execute Australian election campaigns? Do they share a notion of undecided voters as being a diverse group, or do they adhere to the stereotypical view of undecided voters as having low levels of political information, and little interest in politics? How do their notions of undecided voters affect the ways that election campaigns are strategised and designed? This chapter will draw on the original data from the Voter Survey, as well as original interview data, to examine the way that political professionals define, regard, and target undecided voters in Australia. The political practitioners interviewed for this research have all, in their current or recent careers, been engaged directly with either designing, running or advising federal election campaigns at the most senior levels. They include pollsters, advertising and communications professionals, campaign directors, national secretaries, targeting officials, strategists, researchers and advisors. Brief descriptions of the roles of each can be found in Appendix B. It is these practitioners who, to a large extent, determine the practices, protocols and culture of election campaigning, and contribute to the creation and perpetuation of political stereotypes. As John Zaller writes, “when elites uphold a clear picture of what should be done, the public tends to see events from that point of view” (Zaller 1992: 8-9). This is not to suggest that the practitioners quoted here are in total control of their party’s strategising and election campaigning: political candidates themselves, as well as others in the political field, play crucial roles. However, these practitioners have all worked with multiple candidates over multiple elections, and their attitudes and beliefs carry significant influence within their parties.
Anthony Downs declared that “the main goal of every party is the winning of elections. Thus all its actions are aimed at maximising votes” (Downs 1957: 35). This goal means that elections become contests for those voters who may decide
117 to change their vote – the undecided voter. That the targeting of undecided voters in an election campaign is regarded as an achievable task is evidenced by the fact that it is the stated goal of every one of the interviewed practitioners, and by the fact that all aspects of campaigning are specifically directed towards undecided voters. However, in the same way that there is little academic consensus around what constitutes undecided voters and the many terms used to describe them, so do the political practitioners have inconsistent and sometimes contradictory notions and operational models of them.
The interviews conducted for this research reveal a core paradox. All of the practitioners included in this study expressed a clearly articulated concept of the stereotypical undecided voter who neither knows nor cares much about politics, most resembling the Uninterested group from the Voter Survey. Yet, at the same time as they are designing campaigns to appeal to this “identikit” (Goot 2001) notion of the outer-suburban, disengaged and ignorant undecided voter, practitioners also all acknowledged that the profile of an undecided voter is much more complex and diverse, and can include more sophisticated, better informed and more politically interested voters like Assessors and Switchers. This diversity is only likely to increase as the levels of undecided voters in the electorate rises. However, the current nature of elections in Australia, which are focussed on mass media communications campaigns, require practitioners to make generalisations about voters that have little room for nuance. As such, entrenched and stereotypical ideas about undecided voters continue to inform election campaigns, even while the architects of these campaigns recognise that in reality, undecided voters are heterogeneous and cannot be regarded as one group. Further, while all practitioners recognise that each election brings with it a unique set of voters and circumstances, there are well-established rules, protocols and methods of electioneering. These rules are quite rigid, partly because they are well-established over decades of Australian elections, and partly due to a tendency towards risk- aversion in the political culture. The focus on a negative, stereotyped notion of undecided voters as ignorant and apathetic raises another concern: that they are a threat to democracy, as they unduly affect policy formation and execution as political parties attempt to appeal to them in order to win their votes. However, while all political practitioners spoke of the essential need to appeal to undecided
118 voters in an election context, the majority of them denied that research with undecided voters determines policy.
A note on the literature
This chapter and the next utilise elite interviews and are concerned with revealing and analysing the views and perceptions of political professionals, in order to investigate political campaigns from a top-down perspective. The role of the voters in the electoral process, including the substantial literature on voter behaviour, will not play a central role in this chapter. Rather, themes concerning the polity and the role of citizens in democratic practice, including civic engagement, voter knowledge and participation, and voter disaffection, including the relevant academic literature, will be explored in Chapter Nine.
The literature around the methods and effects of election campaigning tends to fall into three broad categories, although these categories inter-relate and frequently overlap. First, there are scholarly studies with an instrumentalist focus, concerned with issues such as polling and focus groups (Lewis 2001; Nelson 2013; Steeper 2008), campaign techniques and approaches (Burton and Shea 2010), campaign funding (Mills 2012), data gathering and utilisation (Semiatin 2013) and leadership (Bean and Mughan 1989; Wattenberg 1991).
Second, much scholarly literature about elections comes from the field of political communications. It either provides an overview of political communications theory, methods and techniques (McNair 2003; Stanyer 2007; Trent and Friedenberg 2008), or gives insight and analysis into more specific areas of political communications, for example media effects (Kennamer 1992; Iyengar and Simon 2000), political advertising (Devine 2013; Young 2004), new or digital media (Crigler et al. 2012) and methods of persuasion (Kinder 2003; Young 2011).
Finally, accounts of actual election campaigns, with insider interviews and observations, tend to be produced – in Australia especially – by journalists, and are often focussed around a single election or political epoch (Cassidy 2010;
119 Crabb 2005; Ellis 2009; Hartcher 2008; Jackman 2008; Kelly 2014; MacCallum 2013; Patrick 2013; van Onselen and Senior 2008; Williams 1997). While these works are frequently revealing, they generally function more as historical documents than works of analysis, and as such this thesis only engages with them when they reveal attitudes, events or documents that are directly relevant to themes under discussion.
Conceptions of Undecided Voters
Several practitioners observed that the number of undecided voters is growing, an impression supported by data gathered by the Australian Election Study (Bean et al. 2014: B1: B1), and by practitioners: “The population of swinging voters, in my opinion, is increasing quite dramatically” (PP-LIB-17); the group of “soft, uncommitted voters is getting bigger in recent years” (PP-ALP-03). The practitioners attributed these changes to various social and political factors. Some pointed to a socio-economic transformation that began in the second half of the twentieth century, with the decline of trade unionism, the rise of the middle class, and the disintegration of the worker/business dichotomy which had traditionally informed party loyalties, an idea that is supported by scholarship (Manning 2014; Jaensch 1995). For example, one practitioner observed that the Labor party can no longer count on a large base of trade unionists: “The influence of unions has diminished significantly so a lot of people who were once unionists are now small business people. Contractors, plumbers, whatever” (PP-ALP-03).
A decline in partisan attachment of voters was also ascribed to the fact that increasingly, issues not pertaining to personal gain are now driving political decisions. One practitioner characterised this as a move towards “post- materialism” (PP-GRE-13), where, as described by Ronald Inglehart, issues beyond those of material well-being become more important than basic left/right identifications (Inglehart 1971, 1981). Social justice, human rights and environmental issues have taken politics into realms beyond the issues that were traditionally regarded as “political” (Stanyer 2007: 9), towards a view of politics that is becoming individualised (Dalton 2000: 932). In a post-materialist environment, voters can be more motivated by single issues than entire party
120 platforms. Another major reason given by practitioners to explain the increased number of undecided voters is general voter disaffection with politics and with the two-party system, which has led to a rise in support for minor parties and independent candidates. Voter disaffection as a reason for being undecided will be examined in greater detail later in this chapter, and the effects of voter disaffection on democratic perceptions and practices will be considered in Chapter Nine.
While there is agreement that the number of undecided voters in the Australian electorate is rising, there is very little consensus about how to describe and define them, with terms such as “swinging voter”, “undecided voter”, “soft”, “target”, and “uncommitted” and “persuadable” voter, often used interchangeably. There was no consistent usage of definitions and terms among the practitioners, and they often acknowledged this inconsistency, with one referring to “so-called soft, undecided, swinging voters, call them what you will” (PP-ALP-03). They tended to categorise undecided voters according to a range of differentials, including the way they relate to each other and other types of voters, their motivations, and their levels of persuadability. Terms used to describe them ranged from the descriptive, for example “floating” and “swinging” to the instrumentalist, for example “target”. However, there was no standardisation as to how these categories were formed, and practitioners frequently adopted several definitions at once. The different meanings attached to terms by practitioners further the argument, proposed in Chapter Two, that undecided voters are an “essentially contested concept”, one that is broadly recognised and superficially understood, but the meaning of which reflects beliefs and positions held by the conferrers of those meanings (Connolly 1983; Gallie 1955).
Many examples of a lack of definitional clarity or unity can be found in the interviews with practitioners. One made a distinction between “swinging voters” and “uncommitted voters”: uncommitted voters “just haven’t got a clue, don’t care”, while a swinging voter is “someone you can get. Either through the letterbox, through the box, through policies, they are swinging, they are making up their minds” (PP-LIB-08). For this practitioner, there is no point in campaigning to, or designing messages to target the “uncommitted” voter, as they are too far outside the political process to be reached. “Swinging” voters, on the
121 other hand, are engaged enough with the political process to be able to formulate some sort of informed decision, and so are available to be influenced by campaign messaging.
Another practitioner drew different distinctions, this time between “swinging” and “persuadable” voters: “The swinging voter is different from the persuadable voter. What we target we call the persuadable voter” (PP-LIB-10). For this practitioner, the “swinging” voter is someone who makes “a rational or emotional decision” on how to vote, and is beyond the influence of “something as trivial as promises in the media […] those people are in fact very, very hard to influence”. Rather, “we’re interested in the people you can kid, wind up. We go for the mug punters […] persuadables is another way of putting it” (PP-LIB-10). This view direct contrasts to the previous one, even though both practitioners are from the same political party: in this case, the voter who is capable of forming a rational decision is harder to influence than the more ignorant citizen, who is free from any particular opinions, so is open to persuasion, and responsive to simple messages. This view finds support in some scholarship, for example Donald Kinder argues that “generally uninterested citizens might still be susceptible to persuasion when elite sources supply simple and decisive cues” (Kinder 2003: 371).
Another practitioner made a similar distinction with regard to motivation, but applies different terminology, differentiating between “swinging” and “soft” “or “uncommitted” voters:
A swinging voter we define as someone who’s changing their vote. You voted Labor last time, you’re voting Liberal this time. Whereas a soft voter, or an uncommitted voter, or whatever you want to call it, is one who is more the classic definition. They’re not particularly committed to how they’re going to vote (PP-ALP-01).
The word “classic”, used to describe apathetic and ignorant undecided voters, points to this notion as the established, benchmark idea. Elaborating, this same practitioner used “swinging voter” and “switcher” as synonyms. Swinging voters or switchers “are motivated by what you’d expect, essentially the carbon tax,
122 leadership, and the economic message more generally”. On the other hand, “soft”, “uncommitted” or “floating” voters “are a bit more detached if you like […they] haven’t really made their mind up yet, and probably won’t until two weeks before the election”. For this practitioner, despite these differences, all of these voters are “gettable” (PP-ALP-01).
Some practitioners advance an idea of a “true” or “pure” undecided voter, who is absolutely without any partisan inclinations at all, and approaches every election completely fresh:
A true swinging voter is a person who will genuinely make up their mind before each election, as opposed to, I am always a voter for party X, but they’ve annoyed me to the extent that I am going to vote for Party Y this time. So to do it once based on an individual issue or personal issue or a unique set of circumstances doesn’t necessarily make them a genuine swinging voter (PP-LIB-17).
Echoing this idea, another practitioner says “I guess there’s what you’d call the pure swinging voter, which would be this person who is completely up for grabs in an election campaign […] virtually in-play the entire time” (PP-ALP-15). This voter could either conform to the pejorative stereotype of the “swinging voter” who is uninterested and uninvolved, or to the ideal of the independent voter, unencumbered by partisan prejudice. These conceptions contain hierarchies of value, which are what fuel concerns about lack of adequate democratic function. Despite the frequency of its use, even the term “swinging voter” was in itself problematic for some practitioners:
Internally people don’t really talk about swinging voters. It’s more, the terms are more like soft and hard. And a soft voter is someone who has said in a quantitative telephone poll that they voted Labor in the last election, Liberal in the one before, or Labor at the state election, Liberal in the one before, someone who is demonstrating that they will, can change. And there’s degrees of softness (PP-ALP-02).
123 Others rejected not just the term but also the very idea, regarding the implied homogeneity of the term as a fundamental problem: “I don’t think there is such a thing [as undecided voters]. We target particular psephological patterns of voting behaviours and there are so many of them” (PP-LIB-14). This practitioner uses the more generic term “target voter” to describe the citizen who, according to internal party research, might change their vote. However, this term sidesteps the fact that these voters are targeted for the reason that they are undecided.
The idea of a scale of commitment (or lack thereof) recurs in the interviews. One practitioner offered an “operational definition of a swinging voter” which is “essentially on some sort of vote scale, they come up as unsure […] if they’ve got a voting intention it’s scaled to be a really low level of commitment”. This definition is “a starting point for a swinging voter”, among whom there are “people who are switching, or who may switch, people who are at risk, potential targets, and persuadables. So there’s a whole spectrum of ways of looking at this thing” (PP-ALP-15). All of these comments reflect the struggles experienced by practitioners, attempting to reconcile the need for focussed campaigning and simple messaging with a more complex reality.
Paradoxically, given their readiness to provide definitions of “classic” undecided voters, the practitioners often displayed a reluctance to homogenise the notion of undecided voters, and came up with a variety of ways to separate, rank, or make distinctions among them. For example, one saw different types of undecided voters as sitting within a hierarchy of strength of voting intention, and arranged the definitions within this hierarchy:
[Swinging voters are] people who displayed or confessed a willingness to change their vote. As opposed to an undecided voter, and they often get confused, although undecided are by definition a subset of swinging voter, because if they’re undecided […] then they’re still showing a propensity to change (PP-ALP-04).
However, undecided voters were also defined by this practitioner as having “a willingness to contemplate change”. Eventually, this practitioner observed
124 “there’s many definitions, many kind of overlapping terms that get used interchangeably even though they shouldn’t be, but for me it was always about opportunity. You know, if they’re changing their vote, if they’re low-committed, if they’re undecided, they’re an opportunity” (PP-ALP-04).
These ideas of hierarchies of swing, scales of commitment and degrees of softness all point to a clear awareness on the part of the practitioners of a diversity among undecided voters, even at the most operational of levels. Asked to define “swinging voters”, one practitioner retorted, “It’s rather like saying, ‘Define the average Australian’. I don’t know what they are” (PP-LIB-14). However, this practitioner also spoke proudly of developing “Phil and Jenny”, the archetypal Australian undecided voters referred to in Chapter Three. This contradiction highlights a central issue. Election campaigns are built around generalisations and stereotypes, as these are regarded as the most effective ways to resonate with the most numbers of voters; even when these stereotypes are recognised by their authors as being inadequate and not reflective of the actual situation. It reflects a classic problem in hermeneutics, where stereotypes are developed in order to explain a set of circumstances, even though, as Kenneth Prandy argues, it is broadly accepted that the stereotypes are inadequate descriptors of complex realities:
[…] there is a complex and problematic relationship between ‘the world’ and the concepts used in knowing it. It is in this social world that the problem of the reality of categories becomes most acute and the distinction between categories, as concepts that we impose on reality in order to comprehend it, and groups which assert their reality in social life, becomes blurred (Prandy 2002: 588).
Prandy is writing about the ways sociologists think about class, but his idea applies equally to the ways that practitioners categorise voters. Specifically, the tension between the practitioners’ recognition that undecided voters are a diverse cohort, and their tendency to build campaigns pitched towards a stereotypical idea of a “swinging voter”, is indicative of an eternal problem of large scale research of human behaviour and attitude: in order to be able to consider (and campaign to)
125 large populations, generalisations are required, which inevitably over-simplify complex groups. As Russell Dalton puts it, “the public is not homogenous” (Dalton 2006b: 2).
The notion of opportunity, of a voter being “in play” or “gettable”, is a constant theme in these interviews, and suggests an instrumentalist approach to defining terms around undecided voters. Intention is considered first: the voter is either strong or weak in their intention of who to vote for. Motivation is considered second, but is perhaps more important: if the voter is not firm in his or her voting intention, practitioners consider why they might be weak. It may be due to a general lack of interest, or a particular factor, policy, or leader. To complicate matters further, voter behaviour changes constantly, and this fluidity further undermines attempts to reach definitional clarity. In addition, the lack of consistency could be reflective of those doing the defining: perhaps trying to achieve consensus among those whose jobs are devoted to the competition of elections, and as such are unlikely to find themselves in situations where terms can be convivially and collaboratively agreed upon, is an impossible task. But regardless of what they are called and how they are defined, distinctions in intention and motivation among undecided voters can and do provide information to practitioners about who to target, and how to target them. The methods and approaches of targeting undecided voters will be explored in greater detail in the next chapter.
Types of undecided voters
The Voter Survey supports a core contention of this research, that there are different types of undecided voters, with different motivations for their inconsistency and different levels of political interest and knowledge, from the more sophisticated Assessors through to the disengaged Uninteresteds (Ch 4: Table 4.1; Figs 4.10, 4.12). So far in this chapter, it has been shown that practitioners have conflicting ideas around how undecided voters are defined, and it has been suggested that the classic, stereotypical view of the disengaged undecided voter coexists with a recognition that there are other “types”. As described by the practitioners, these types can exist concurrently, so undecided
126 voters can be conceived of as young, or female, or suburban, or regional, without any sense of contradiction.
The first question asked of all participants in this research was to describe undecided voters in Australia. As was shown in Chapter Two, the notion of the poorly informed and uninterested undecided voter became dominant following the first mass surveys of voter behaviour in the middle of the twentieth century (Lazarsfeld, Berelson and Gaudet 1944; Berelson, Lazarsfeld and McPhee 1954; Campbell, Gurin and Miller 1954; Campbell 1960). In Australia, this notion has been considered by political scientists (Chaples 1997; McAllister 2011), and received as orthodoxy by political parties (Mills 1986). Most initial responses to that first question echoed this stereotype that dominates media and popular discourse, of the undecided voter as outer-suburban, not especially well educated, and financially struggling:
You know, the classic swinging voter in Australia at the moment [is…] someone who lives in an outer-suburban electorate […] younger families […] usually under a fair amount of economic pressure because of where they are in their life cycle (PP-ALP-15).
Many practitioners were explicitly aware that they were dealing in stock-types:
Well look the typical caricature I suppose across the political landscape is the young family, two cars, three kids, living in the suburbs of Sydney or a larger regional centre, upper blue collar, lower white collar type of thing, dad’s a tradie, does quite well for himself, mum works in a clerical role in a business in town, that kind of thing (PP-NAT-09).
Several practitioners suggested that undecided voters were more likely to be female, because, they aruged, women were typically less interested in politics (PP-ALP-04, PP-ALP-01, PP-GRE-06, PP-ALP-15). Youth was also a commonly-cited demographic characteristic of undecided voters (PP-ALP-15, PP- ALP-01, PP-GRE-06, PP-NAT-09, PP-ALP-03, PP-ALP-16). Geographic location was evoked as a factor by several practitioners, with undecided voters
127 tending to be “outer-suburban” (PP-ALP-03, PP-ALP-15, PP-ALP-01, PP-ALP- 02, PP-ALP-07) or “regional” (PP-NAT-09). One practitioner specified that “a lot of the regional centres are looking a lot like outer metro anyway […] there are suburbs in Orange that look like Penrith in outer western Sydney or Narre Warren in Melbourne” (PP-ALP-02). “Classic” undecided voters were not regarded as being particularly interested in politics, to the extent that one practitioner explicitly linked a lack of political knowledge and engagement directly with being an undecided voter:
I guess we know when we’ve really got the pure swinging voter type […] people who literally can’t remember who they voted for in the last election. You know, that would be the über distillation of a super swinging voter, you’re so unengaged in the process you can’t actually remember (PP-ALP-15).
However, despite the emergence among practitioners of stereotypical views that undecided voters were more likely to be young or female, and less likely to live in urban centres, the data collected in the Voter Survey found very few demographic differences between undecided voters and partisans. When undecided voters are considered as a single bloc, they are divided equally by gender and region (Ch 4: Figs 4.2, 4.5) with no statistically significant differences found in education (Ch 4: Fig 4.3). The only demographic factor that reveals differentiation is age, with a greater dominance of Partisans among those over fifty-five (Ch 4: Fig 4.7).
Busy voters
There is a strong perception that – despite the best efforts of political communicators – for most voters, engaging with politics is displaced by other, more immediately pressing factors. This perception also occurs in academic literature, for example Robert Dahl expressed it over fifty years ago:
[O]ne of the central facts of political life is that politics lives for most people at the outer periphery of attention, interest, concern, and activity. At the focus of most men’s lives are primary activities involving food, sex,
128 love, family, work, play, shelter, comfort, friendship, social esteem, and the like (Dahl 1961: 279).
Similar sentiments were expressed by the practitioners. When it comes to interest and engagement with politics, there was a recurring notion in the interviews that undecided voters were simply too busy with their day-to-day lives to have time to follow political news, familiarise themselves with policies, or pay much attention to politics at all. For example, to a question about typical “swinging voters”, one practitioner responded that they are “twenty-nine to about forty, with kids”:
Dad’s halfway up the rung at work, mum is working sometimes, a couple of kids, big mortgage … They’re worried about whether I have tuckshop money this week for the kids. Oh shit, the uniforms aren’t ironed. We need new sandshoes. Gee, I hope my husband isn’t fired today. They’re not focusing on politics (PP-LIB-08).
Another proposed that some women are “low-committed because they’re so busy worrying about their kids, and their kids’ education […] they’re just too bloody busy to engage in daily political discourse” (PP-ALP-04).
Several practitioners drew a distinction between lack of intelligence and lack of interest when assessing types of undecided voters, with one saying that “These people are not stupid, they’re just not interested in politics. And if you treat them like idiots, they’re going to react badly to that, obviously” (PP-ALP-01). This type of target voter, who possesses the ability to comprehend more complex messaging, but is unlikely to be attracted to political material, is also unlikely to respond positively to simplistic sloganeering. However, catching their attention in other ways is difficult because they are less likely to be consuming political content in media, or engaging in political conversation:
Let’s say I’m a swinging voter who goes to work, gets a pay-check every fortnight and by the time that fortnight’s finished there’s five bucks left. I’ve got more things to worry about than the carryings-on in Canberra. I’m just not bloody interested. And I get Saturdays off, but you want me to
129 turn up to a polling booth and I don’t really want to do that and I’m bloody annoyed and […] you know what, my vote doesn’t really count anyway so why are you annoying me (PP-LIB-17).
There was a view that this type of undecided voter – not stupid but not interested – must be approached with caution by campaigners, lest they be alienated altogether.
Disaffected Voters The majority of the practitioners believed that many undecided voters are fed up with the political process, and this is what is causing them to swing. This idea is, to a degree, supported by the Voter Survey, in which a substantial proportion (13.9%) of respondents were classified as Disaffected (Ch 4: Table 4.1). The image of the cynical, alienated undecided voter is an old and persistent one. While all practitioners articulated some sort of a concept of an alienated, disaffected undecided voter, those from the Labor Party emphasised their role the most. This could perhaps be related to the timings of these interviews, which were conducted when Liberal Party leader Tony Abbott was either leader of the opposition or prime minister, and was running a series of negative campaigns around issues such as a carbon tax and immigration policy. That these campaigns were (at least initially) successful, heightened the view of his political opponents that voters are angry and disillusioned. Practitioners’ comments emphasised the disappointment and frustration of voters:
Other categories [of undecided voter] are people who are just burnt out or cynical, they may have been politically engaged at one point, but they’ve come from a history of voting a particular way to being a swinging voter or an undecided voter because they’ve become disillusioned with who they’ve traditionally supported (PP-ALP-04);
They’re typically disconnected from politics, are resentful about it, hold politicians in even lower esteem than the rest of the public does, and are contemptuous of them as a general rule, feel let down by politicians (PP- ALP-03);
130
It’s a fairly grumpy, disconnected swinging voter out there these days. Who’s not that happy with their lot, who has those high aspirations that they don’t think are going to come true, and they’re frustrated about not getting ahead like they thought they would, and they’re just feeling a bit insecure as well about the future (PP-ALP-07).
Some practitioners put this disaffection into an historical context, speculating that a poor series of federal leaders, and the constant leadership squabbles and upheavals that led to an unprecedentedly high prime ministerial turnover since 2010, had stoked a longstanding (some said characteristically Australian) cynicism in the electorate:
I think it’s a bad crop of politicians at the moment. And there was that hung parliament, and there was some desperation about that, but you know it all goes back to, it really fell off a cliff when Labor got rid of Rudd. That was the turning point in terms of disillusionment with the public (PP-ALP- 07).
This comment affords voters justification for their disaffection. It posits that they have been badly let down by politicians and a remarkably unstable period in Australian politics, and they are responding in a perfectly rational way. It indicates an attitude that was present, at some level, in the interviews with all the practitioners. Even while they were disparaging voters for being indifferent to their messages, they also shared a respect for the electorate they’re trying to win over, and a belief that their targets are not stupid, nor totally disengaged. The notion that voter disaffection is a reasonable response to a poor political context has been expressed by scholars (Hibbing and Theiss-Morse 2002; Hay 2007; Bennett 1998; Norris 2011) and will be explored more fully in Chapter Nine of this thesis.
131 More sophisticated undecided voters
All of the practitioners spoke of a type of undecided voter who is informed and engaged, but does not have a strong partisan commitment, and who more closely resembles the liberal ideal of the independent citizen. This more sophisticated undecided voter has been acknowledged, at some level, in academic literature (Dalton 2013), although is often regarded as being in the minority (Benewick et al. 1969; Key 1966). This voter consumes (at least some) political media and has awareness of, and opinions on, major issues and events. These more sophisticated voters appeared in the Voter Survey: the voter groups Switchers (11.8% of total sample) and Assessors (13.7%) reported higher levels of political interest and showed greater knowledge of politics than the other voter groups (Ch 4: Figs 4.10, 4.22, 4.24). They also watched more explicitly political content on the public broadcasting networks (Ch 4: Tables 4.5, 4.6; Figs 4.27, 4.28).
Among the political practitioners, one spoke of “engaged swingers, which are those who do get some political news, but they’re generally not Liberal or Labor, so they can really switch” (PP-ALP-16). Discussing focus groups of undecided voters, another practitioner said “You’ll get some people who are really into politics, and they’ll know the ins and outs of what legislation is happening” (PP- ALP-07). This belies an image popular in media discourse, that focus groups are full of ignorant voters (Hartcher 2011a). Directly challenging the “don’t know, don’t care” stereotype, a practitioner said, “People make the assumption that swinging voters aren’t intelligent, which couldn’t be further from the truth. A lot of them when they’re switched on are quite savvy” (PP-NAT-09). Another argued that voters understand political systems well enough to be able to manipulate them:
Yes absolutely they’re more sophisticated. They’re more aware of the power of their vote, they get nightly TV news about the state of the economy, the stock market, the share market, they’re more aware of their tactical voting power, they are more likely to game the national opinion polls. Oh shit yeah, they’re tactically astute, voters (PP-LIB-14).
132
The effect of undecided voters on policy
The direct line between undecided voters and campaign design creates the concern that it is those least qualified to make decisions who are having undue influence on national policy, leaders, and government. This concern, dominant in the popular imagination, was also expressed by some of the practitioners. For example, one said that the target voters “are the more ignorant […] They’re the people who decide and it shouldn’t be so. It’s like getting Mike Tyson to run a rape crisis centre” (PP-LIB-10). Another said “it is the case in Australia that governments are decided by people who don’t put much thought into it, generally” (PP-ALP-02). Labor party elder John Faulker has gone on record condemning his party for conducting focus groups of “uncommitted voters, hand- picked for their lack of belief” in order to guide decisions (Hartcher 2011b). This notion of ignorant undecided voters influencing things they don’t understand – and the implication that undecided voters are something of a voting bloc – remains dominant in much of the discourse, especially in terms of fuelling a panic that they are dangerous for democracy. This concern is expressed in some academic literature (Onselen and Errington 2004: 361), and is explored in greater detail in Chapter Nine of this thesis.
The question of whether undecided voters have an influence on policy is an area of disparity among the practitioners, with the majority claiming that they do not have direct impact. They stated that policies are formed by leaders and their teams, and the only thing that is determined by research with undecided voters is the way that those policies are communicated to the electorate. This falls in line with Australian research which suggests that poll-driven politics isn’t as pervasive as is often thought (Goot 2005). Comments along these lines from practitioners include:
The detail or broad direction of policy is still driven largely by ideology or personality, how that policy is then sold is driven by politics (PP-LIB-17);
133 When you get to the point where your policy is being driven by focus groups then you’re in pretty dire strife (PP-ALP-03);
Almost by definition, by the time you’ve gotten around to researching something, the kind of institutional policy mechanisms have been in play for so long that it’s sort of out there (PP-ALP-15);
[People think that] the Labor Party [is] controlled by focus groups, it is so untrue […] The actual formulation of policy is rarely, rarely focus- grouped. That would shock people who think differently (PP-ALP-16).
Generally, being led by polling and focus group research was seen by practitioners as a sign of weak leadership. However, the following comments point to occasions where leaders have been influenced by research with undecided voters:
The attitude I tend to take is that if you’ve got a leader who knows what they’re doing and a staff base that has pretty good experience, then it really just goes into their thinking, and you can’t wander around kicking and roaring and saying look at this, the focus groups say this, or the polls say that. And that’s where Rudd got into trouble, because he allowed that to happen with climate change (PP-ALP-02).
Oh you get naïve bloody leaders and political campaign directors every now and again, who are focus group driven, or poll driven. They learn. They learn (PP-LIB-08).
So the way I see research is it’s a tool for managers not for leaders. Leadership is a very different thing. You can’t lead by following. You can’t manage by following either but if you fail to pay attention to what people are saying or thinking and don’t plug in your leadership ideas with that, then you’re going to screw up badly. But if you let it drive your notion of leadership, then you’re in terrible trouble. Because people will
134 resent it, because you’re as dumb as them […] listening to stupid opinions and reinforcing them, it doesn't work (PP-LIB-10).
For one Greens practitioner, the desire to keep polling separate from policy formation was “almost visceral”, and any member proposing this as a valid decision-making method would almost certainly not last within the party (PP- GRE-13). This speaks to the Greens’ notion of itself as a party of deliberation, with a focus on policy; one that is not influenced by popular opinion, but that upholds platforms and policies that are explicitly ideologically driven. This Greens practitioner, for example, spoke proudly of the way the party has held an explicitly pro-asylum seeker policy since 2001, despite media and political party polling suggesting that the majority of the electorate prefers policies that are tougher on asylum seekers.
However, there were two notable deviations from this common line. One Labor party practitioner expressed the opinion that his party is becoming increasingly influenced by focus group research, to the extent that it is affecting policy:
I’m one of those grumpy old muppets who are sitting up in the corner stall now watching politics getting frustrated with a trend that I’ve seen, and that many other people have talked about, political parties, um, I think particularly the Labor party, unfortunately, allowing policy to be determined by this voter group through the corruption of the focus group process, where you know the party actually allows policy to be determined by this group (PP-ALP-04).
This same practitioner recalled two specific instances, one of which he was directly involved in, of both ALP and Coalition governments either introducing or changing reasonably major policies in response to research involving undecided voters. However, the consensus is that formulating policy in direct response to the concerns of undecided voters is not standard protocol, although it inevitably happens under certain circumstances. A much more common practice, as identified by a practitioner who is directly involved in this research, is for lobby,
135 industry and business groups to commission and conduct research involving undecided voters, which is then used to pressure individual MPs into lobbying for their cause in government:
Swinging voters will influence politicians. If something’s on the agenda with swinging voters and it’s coming up in focus groups or whatever and they know it’s bothering them, then they’ll respond to it. Because politicians rely on being popular. And so lobbyists target swinging voters? Yeah. Some of these big campaigns are about directly influencing swinging voters. So you know, the whole mining tax campaign. All the research for that, and subsequently all the communication that was developed for it, was developed for swinging voters. So they’re influencing policy? Well that will influence the politicians because they’re worried that they’re going to lose votes because of it. Lose votes with the people who matter (PP-ALP-07).
This “back-door” influence of undecided voters on policy formation is standard practice, an undisputed and accepted way that undecided voters affect the formation and direction of policy. As shown in Chapter Two, there is considerable anxiety around the belief that the opinions of undecided voters directly influence policy formation (Shadegg 1964; Blondel 1967). There are two things at stake here: is the fear that undecided voters determine policy is justified, and if so, does this mean that policy is being determined by those who neither know nor care about the issues?
Addressing the first concern, an assessment of the responses of the participants would suggest that the practice of policy led by research with undecided voters is unusual. While most recognised the concern as a popular one, almost all said that it happened rarely, and if it were to happen it would be regarded as an indication of poor leadership, or a campaign in deep trouble. This in itself could provide the reason that only one practitioner was able to recall specific instances where it had occurred. It seems most likely that the practice occurs occasionally, and when it
136 does it is in response to a public relations crisis, in which a controversial issue becomes the subject of a mass media campaign. The second concern, which is the ability of the undecided “people who matter” to be able to wield their influence adequately, is rooted in how undecided voters are defined, identified, and conceived. If the stereotypical image of the undecided voter as uninterested and poorly informed prevails, then there is a case to be made that alarm is warranted. If, however, a more complex notion of undecided voters, including the more sophisticated and engaged types like Switchers and Assessors, is accepted, then this concern is less urgent. Rather than focusing on the role of voters in this process, perhaps a consideration of this aspect of democratic function, where lobby and interest groups can set political agendas, would be better warranted.
Recognising context and diversity in a changing electorate
The types of undecided voters so far identified – the stereotypical, outer-suburban, low-interest undecided voter (Uninterested); the voter who has disconnected from the parties due to a disaffection with politics (Disaffected); the undecided voter who, at least at key moments, is generally following politics (Switcher); and the undecided voter who is engaged and interested in politics (Assessor) – are not necessarily perennial, insofar as the practitioners speak of movement both within and in-and-out of, the groups. In addition to that, the different types can be deployed by practitioners to suit different circumstances. Further, there is a temporal dimension to elections and electorates. That is to say, historical changes affect the demographics of voters, as well as the issues that galvanise them. As one practitioner said, “Politics is tidal. The left sweeps in, the right sweeps in” (PP-LIB-10).
The practitioners all emphasised the importance of context in every election, and for every electorate. The importance of context is reflected in the fact that each election campaign, for parties major and minor, starts with the collection of research, that identifies which seats will be targeted and informs what policies will be emphasised and how they will be communicated, and each election brings with it its own set of circumstances, issues, problems and candidates. It was further understood by practitioners that within each marginal electorate, their
137 target voters will have a number of different concerns, motivations, media habits and ideological positions. As one practitioner said, “Every election is unique, every set of swinging voters for every election is unique” (PP-ALP-04). One practitioner referred to this lack of long-term stability in voter behaviour as “churn”:
A lot of people don’t stay swinging voters forever, some people have been a Labor voter for a while, and then they move…something disillusions them and they move…Coalition voters move, so it churns a bit, you’ve got to keep an eye on who is where” (PP-ALP-02).
In addition, within a single election, each electorate has within it many variables: its own demographic characteristics and its own set of local issues. As one practitioner pointed out, some national issues that are high salience in some electorates may be almost irrelevant in others: “A lot of it depends on what sort of electorate you’re in, what are the specific issues of that electorate” (PP-ALP-15). Another compared undecided voters to minority groups, saying that the idea of targeting “swinging voters” was as useless as deciding to court “the Jewish vote” or “the Chinese vote”, as this approach assumes that entire ethnic groups would vote as a bloc. This practitioner elaborated that with “swinging voters of course, no group is monolithic at all”, pointing out that “There are traditional Labor versus Liberal swinging voters in Grayndler, there are hippy-ish green swinging voters in Mallee” (PP-ALP-01).
A National Party practitioner said that context is especially important in rural and regional electorates, where campaigns tend to be much more localised, with local candidates being more important than federal leaders. Voters in regional and rural Australia will often follow local media and issues rather than national coverage, and are much more invested in local issues:
Local issues and identity politics play such a large role, and people tune in less to the national debate and more to their local contest. They’ve got their local media markets, local newspapers. And all they see are local
138 candidates and local issues, they don’t catch as much of the leaders’ contests (PP-NAT-09).
Participants across parties recognised that a variety of factors have significant influences on who their target voters are and what issues will be important to them, and these factors will vary, sometimes greatly, between elections and between electorates.
Conclusion
Despite investing substantial time and resources into trying to identify and target undecided voters, political practitioners ultimately acknowledge that the task is impossible: “From an operational point of view there’s no kind of really single group [of undecided voters] that you can specify” (PP-ALP-15). Similarly, another resisted providing set demographic characteristics of undecided voters: “It’s hard just to say this particular group are going to be harder to get because they’re less educated, more educated, whatever. It tends not to break that way” (PP-ALP-03). A practitioner familiar with focus groups made the point that there are big differences in political knowledge and interest of undecided voters, and one of the skills of a focus group facilitator was to “manage those differences in the room” (PP-ALP-07).
Practitioners understand that to regard undecided voters as a single group, for whom single campaign messages can be created and broadcast on single channels, is overly simplistic and, most likely, not as effective as campaigning which targets specific types of groups according to their levels of political engagement and interest, and utilises media channels and outlets that are consumed by that group. For example, in-depth political analysis on public broadcasters is appropriate for Assessors, whereas Uninterested voters are more likely to encounter more simple messaging via their social media feeds. However, federal election campaigns in Australia have historically favoured single-track, simple messages conveyed via free-to-air commercial television. Major parties distil policy into simple messages that are played over and over again on mainstream media platforms. When questioned about this, practitioners tended to come back to the idea that this was
139 how to reach “swinging voters”, despite their articulation that undecided voters are a diverse cohort in possession of a broad range of political knowledge and sophistication. These views exist concurrently, but the more complex and nuanced views of undecided voters, while being researched and acknowledged, are overshadowed in campaigns by the dominant stereotype of the uninterested, low- information, low-interest undecided voter. What practitioners unanimously agree upon is that undecided voters – a diverse group who are notoriously difficult to define – are also notoriously difficult to target and strategise for. And yet, in one of the most profound paradoxes of election campaigning, this is the central task of the campaign professional. The ways that this task is attempted, and how campaigners grapple with the inherent conflicts involved, will be explored in the next chapter.
140 Chapter Six Campaigning to undecided voters in Australian elections
“Campaigns”, write Iyengar and Simon, “do matter and can be pivotal” (Iyengar and Simon 2000: 150). It is estimated that between thirty-five and forty percent of Australian voters make their choice during the electoral campaign (Young 2011: 4). As was shown in the previous chapter it is these voters, who remain undecided until close to the election, who political campaigners are most trying to persuade. This creates inherent problems for those designing election campaigns. If one accepts the stereotype that most undecided voters are indifferent to politics and are thus unlikely to consume media of a political nature, then campaigning to them is difficult, as they’re less likely to receive campaign messages. Likewise, if a model of undecided voters as a diverse group is adopted, then campaigning to them is difficult, because they will all respond to different messages and be accessible via different platforms. The belief that undecided voters are notoriously difficult to target was held widely among the political practitioners interviewed for this study, who employ a suite of methods and techniques in attempts to reach them. A fundamental problem with targeting undecided voters is that, as has been shown in Chapters Two, Three and Five, there are no clear and agreed definitions of them. This means that practitioners are working with unclear, nebulous and changeable ideas about their targets. The Voter Survey identified different types of undecided voters, and practitioners also recognise that undecided voters can have different characteristics and habits. Yet there is a conflict between an awareness on the part of practitioners of the diversity among undecided voters, and a need to make generalisations in order to create coherent sets of messages. In this situation, practitioners often fall back onto stereotypical notions of undecided voters when creating their campaigns.
This chapter will look at the operational aspects of designing election campaigns to appeal to undecided voters, including focus groups, direct campaigning, advertising and – briefly – media (media will be dealt with at greater length in Chapters Seven and Eight). That there is no easily definable group of undecided voters, and their demographic characteristics, motivations and habits are much
141 more diverse and complex than the stereotypes allow, greatly complicates this task. Adding to the difficulty, technological changes, especially in communications and data collection, are changing the tools that campaigners have available. While these new tools have the potential to provide much more nuanced and granular information about many more voters, the fact that they are constantly updating and evolving has so far meant that they are neither properly understood, nor used to their full potential, in Australian campaigns.
It will be shown in this chapter that Australian political practitioners are adapting a variety of techniques, both old and new, to attempt to identify and reach undecided voters in an evolving environment. There is some attempt to create and disseminate dual campaign messages to appeal to different voters over different media, for example using television advertising to convey broad, simple campaign positions, and using online media to deliver more targeted messages to niche audiences. However, while experimentation is occurring, there is still a tendency to fall back on tried-and-true techniques, with practitioners tending to favour what has worked in the past, even if it might not be as effective or applicable in these new contexts, and often does not allow for a diversity of undecided voters. This underscores an important tension between what practitioners say they know and understand about undecided voters, and what they are prepared to put into practice in a campaign. This reversion to established ideas and methods works at two levels, both in the ways in which undecided voters are conceived of, and in the tools and methods used to reach them.
Targeting undecided voters
There is no question that undecided voters are the focus of election campaigning (Campbell 2008: 360; Chaples 1997). Every one of the practitioners stated that undecided voters are at the centre of all of their campaigning work: “It’s the people you can genuinely shift you’ve got to concentrate on” (PP-LIB-10). These citizens were described by practitioners as “the deciders” (PP-ALP-02); “the ones who are going to decide who wins” (PP-LIB-17); and, “at the end of the day, you ignore them at your peril” (PP-ALP-03). They are of crucial importance in every election, and “your whole campaign is driven by those groups” (PP-ALP-04). One
142 practitioner went so far as saying, “it’s got almost like mythical proportions, you know, the swinging voter. The mythical creature that swings in and decides the election” (PP-ALP-15).
Undecided voters affect the electorates in which the campaign is researched and focussed. Research with undecided voters informs and drives the messaging that is expressed through the public comments of leaders and candidates, as well as advertising output: “A lot of stuff that you would’ve seen in the recent [2013 federal] election campaign was just aimed at swinging voters” (PP-ALP-03). Voters who have been identified as undecided are more likely to be targeted with phone calls, mail and other forms of direct contact, than those with a firm voting intention. Doorknocking, in-person campaigning and visits by candidates and leaders are coordinated to occur in marginal electorates rather than in safe seats.
Potentially persuadable voters are identified early in election campaigns, using a combination of existing databases and new research, which is mostly conducted online or by telephone. This research will usually start with a question about voting intention. If the voter is identified as uncommitted, various follow-up questions will be asked to determine whether they are totally uncommitted, or still see themselves as belonging on a particular point on the political spectrum, but are undecided only in this particular contest (establishing their “political I.D.”). Once those who are “gettable”, “in play” or “target” are identified, further research is conducted. For both major parties, this research is exhaustive, and includes polling and focus-group work. The situation is slightly different for the Nationals and the Australian Greens, both of whom lack the resources and budgets of the two major parties, and who also often run on issues that are focused more locally than nationally.
Many practitioners spoke of the tension in appealing to what you believe are the concerns of undecided voters, without alienating the partisan base. This problem is also recognised by scholars of elections (Jaensch 1995: 137). There is a “significant challenge” in focussing too much on undecided voters because, as one practitioner said, “you can lose the heartland. And you can lose them quite easily” (PP-ALP-03). This Labor party practitioner went on to describe the “traditional
143 blue collar working class male voters” (PP-ALP-03) who disliked former prime minister Julia Gillard, disapproved of the alliance she formed with the Greens in 2010, and so did not vote for Labor in the 2013 election. However, the concern about alienating the base of a party was shared by practitioners from both sides of politics, with the tension described as follows:
There are two […] distinct groups of people who you need to appeal to. One is […] the swinging voters, the people who are liable to change their votes […] The other thing that you need to do is remember that you’re dealing with a political party which has its own set fast ideology and if you depart from it completely you can find yourself losing your own base (PP-LIB-17);
My criticism – private criticism – of the Labor party in recent years is that they’ve focused far too much on chasing that outer metro problem, and forgetting that inner areas do form actually a bulwark of seats, and when they go, you’ve got a real problem because you’ve got no base at all (PP- ALP-02).
This tension between appealing to the perceived whims of a volatile middle ground, while keeping long-term supporters happy, creates serious problems for practitioners. This is especially acute in a media environment where most announcements and public comments by candidates and leaders are easily searchable and retrievable, and there is a fear that discrepancies will be exploited by opponents. Above all, there is a fear that valuable and elusive political commodity, authenticity, will be compromised.
There were broad consistencies between the major parties around operational methods of campaigning to undecided voters. Advertising, and in particular television advertising, is still the centrepiece of contemporary election campaigns. Direct mail, telephone canvassing and, increasingly, geo-targeted advertising in social media are all utilised. “Earned media”, which is the term given to the appearance of candidates and messages on non-paid media channels such as the
144 news, provide an intense battleground. The material that is communicated across all of these channels is called “messaging”.
Messaging
Central to the creation and execution of election campaigns is the notion of messaging, which informs the policies which are chosen for the campaign to focus on, the way that leaders and candidates express themselves in public addresses and interviews, and the content and nature of all of the party’s communications and advertising campaigns. All practitioners spoke of the importance of a coherent central set of messages in an election campaign, which informs the output of all campaign materials, and can be adapted to suit the various different platforms that the campaign employs. The combination of messages is often referred to as a “narrative”.
The narrative is of crucial importance, as there is a dominant belief that “political election campaigns are campaigns of communication” (Trent and Friedenberg 2008: 16). The notion of “messaging”, the way that messages are created, and the very term itself, are adopted from the area of market research (Mills 2012: 148; Negrine and Stanyer 2007: 10). Research, both quantitative and qualitative, is frequently concerned with the development of messaging: determining the issues that have traction in the electorate, the tone of the messages and how to word public statements and comments about those issues, and how well or poorly voters are responding to new or changed messaging. Donald Kinder argues that messages accrue in the minds of voters over the course of a campaign, and “running tallies” are formed by voters. It is these tallies that serve the voters’ final decisions (Kinder 2003: 374).
The narrative of the campaign is explicitly designed by the practitioners to appeal to what is thought undecided voters will respond to:
We’re building all the time a narrative, you know […] largely the narrative is directed at people in the middle. These so-called swinging voters […] the narrative becomes the distillation of what you think those
145 people in the middle of the political world are going to be most responsive to in a positive or negative way (PP-ALP-03).
Once the narrative is established, the process by which that narrative is communicated needs to be planned. Flexibility is required. If research shows that the narrative, or the associated messaging, is not resonating with undecided voters, it needs to be changed:
At the end of the day what you’re interested in doing is getting these people to basically commit to your side. So you have to find the issues that they’re interested in, you have to work out the language they respond to, you have to work out which sort of leaders they respond to, you can back this into a kind of media consumption battery about what media they consume, where they’re getting their information from, so you kind of just work it all out from there (PP-ALP-15).
There was recognition among practitioners that while a narrative had to be clear, consistent and single-track, getting that narrative understood by a diverse electorate required a mixed-method approach. They were in general agreement that there was not one type of campaigning or communication method that was always going to work best. For example, young people might be better reached online using social media, but that was less likely to influence elderly voters:
Oh, we use mixed modal. Some online, some face-to-face. We’re platform independent […] I’m kind of agnostic when it comes to methodologies […] I’m not wedded to anything; I’ll choose what’s best (PP-LIB-14).
Another practitioner emphasised that while many platforms needed to be used, the message needed to remain consistent.
To reach these people [swinging voters], there’s only about five ways. One is through the letterbox. So, personalised, direct mail still works. The suburban newspapers still work. The metropolitan newspapers still work, print ads less so, unless they’re big or front-page. TV advertising still
146 works but it has to be good. So you can’t vacate any one of those. You’ve got to do each one, and all of that has got to reinforce what you’re trying to say on the news half an hour earlier (PP-LIB-08).
The overarching campaign narrative, built from simple themes and messages, is designed to appeal to a mass audience, and to be communicated using mass media. This messaging has in mind the stereotypical undecided voter, and pitches itself towards the lowest common denominator of political information and interest. The way that this narrative is communicated, however, can – in theory – be tailored more specifically for individual audiences, using what are judged to be appropriate or effective platforms, and adopting more complex or nuanced ideas. This multi-platform approach to campaigning is perhaps an insight into the way practitioners resolve the tension between the dual notions of undecided voters as either ill-informed and disengaged, as well as being a diverse cohort. One practitioner linked different platforms explicitly with different types of issues:
Well you’ve got to be platform independent, so it depends. I mean, there is a lot of direct voter contact now, you know you might have canvassing calls and direct voter calls with folk, you might mail them on more complex policy issue or when you’re setting up the narrative of the campaign, mail works best. In terms of establishing a framework for the campaign, how they should think about their vote, that’s TV; tactical responses: radio; local responses: ISP [internet service provider] enabled online advertising, so you can personalise it to particular geographic areas; social media interventions, although they’re not very powerful. Using Facebook as [an advertising] channel, rather than as a social media thing […] A whole bunch of other techniques. Text messaging, robo-calls, there’s a very significant number of channels we use (PP-LIB-14).
This approach, using different platforms as deemed appropriate for different messages and targets is likely to become more common as digital media platforms become more generally utilised by the electorate. Writing about election campaigning, Michael Turk predicts that “At the end of the day, the distinctions
147 between new media and old will disappear, and we will be left with just media, and the desire to use them effectively to reach an audience” (Turk 2013: 63).
Language, idiom, and expression are extensively researched in focus groups. “You pick up bits of their language”, said one practitioner. “You go, oh, they’re calling him arrogant a lot. Maybe we should frame him like that. Or an embarrassment” (PP-ALP-07). Political communications scholar James Stanyer emphasises that simple, straightforward messages are effective, because a “simple message is more likely to be heard amongst the background noise” (Stanyer 2007: 47). This implies an assumption that voters are either not paying attention, or are not interested in campaign messages, a proposition that the interviewed practitioners broadly agreed with:
You’ve got to stick to basics. Create the message, sell the message. The creation of it hasn’t changed. It’s still got to be done by finding the issues that people want to hear, developing it in a way that’s digestible to them, and creating something that you know is going to work […] Research will tell you that you need to be exposed to a message eight times or something like that before it sinks in. But if you stand in front of them and make them read a message eight times, it’s going to put them off. So they’ve got to see it from a range of different sources, and it’s got to be crafted in a way that’s approachable and digestible (PP-LIB-17).
This was a common theme among the practitioners. In order for the messages to be heard, it is necessary “to be annoyingly repetitive in your messaging. And when I say annoying, I mean to those of us who are switched on” (PP-NAT-09). Another practitioner concurred with this:
What you’re saying on free-to-air once a night is really what you should be saying ten times a night in paid advertising, certainly by the end of the campaign you would be (PP-ALP-03).
These views underscore a central assumption that the core voters are difficult to reach because they’re not consuming the sorts of media where political content is
148 included. Even as practitioners acknowledge that this sort of message repetition can be off-putting and annoying to some voters, the overwhelming sense is that annoyance of the politically attentive is collateral damage in the war for the vote of the uninterested.
There is a tension inherent in being seen to be across many issues, but then to be able to narrow the focus of the message right down during election campaigning. This was underscored by a practitioner who made the distinction between the need for a leader to be across multiple issues and themes while serving as a member of parliament, and then having to stay on point during election campaigns:
You have to have a leader who is disciplined enough to have gone through the whole campaign, gone through three or four years really, with all sorts of messages, and then come back and just stick on one. One phrase, one idea, in that final week. Think of twenty different ways of expressing the same thing (PP-LIB-08).
These sorts of statements reinforce the idea that effective campaigning is simple and simplistic, dominated by repetition and pitched at a low-information voter. They also underline the fact that while practitioners talk about different delivery methods for more complex ideas and arguments, simple narratives conveyed in mass media are still very much the primary tool of election messaging.
Leaders
Leaders are increasingly a central focus of campaign messaging, despite inconclusive scholarship on whether leaders play an important role in elections. One Australian study found that a leader can determine the difference between victory and defeat in a close election, although partisan attachment will tend to override leadership concerns (Bean and Mughan 1989). Other studies have found that leadership is relatively unimportant in deciding Australian elections (Manning 2014: 236; McAllister 2011). There is, however, general scholarly acknowledgement that personality has become a more important feature of
149 Australian political campaigning (McAllister 2011: 240-241). Philip Senior and Peter van Onselen specifically attribute partisan dealignment to an increase in importance of leaders in campaigns (Senior and van Onselen 2008). In the US context, Martin Wattenberg also argues that an increased campaign focus on the leader is a direct result of a contemporary detachment from strong partisan alignment: “Without the mediating function of partisanship, voters are more likely to look directly at the candidates, assessing their pluses and minuses” (Wattenberg 1991: 30).
Accordingly, the practitioners interviewed for this research emphasised the importance of having a leader who can convincingly sell the messaging as determined by the election strategists and communications experts. They warned that the electorate is savvy and attuned to messaging that does not feel genuine, or comes across as “spin”. One of the worst things that can happen to a leader is that they get seen as too reliant on research, and therefore become regarded as inauthentic. As one participant said:
Oh definitely you can get over-researched and sound contrived and stand for nothing. If they stand for nothing, and they rely on just the best stuff from focus groups – and they do that a lot – then you know, it’s up to what extent they’re a good actor or not (PP-ALP-07).
The comparison of leaders with actors reflects an emphasis on the personal style of the candidate, which scholars including Judith Trent and Robert Friedenberg argue is increasing. This is not just limited to language and choice of words, but includes “physical behaviour, sound of voice, body shape and movement, appearance, clothing, and choice of settings – that operate as symbols to create the meanings we infer from the transaction” (Trent and Friedenberg 2008: 73). These meanings are, according to Trent and Friedenberg, weighed up by voters and then balanced against their preconceived ideas about how leaders “should” be. Candidates do well when their “style” matches voter expectations, and less well when they fail to meet them (ibid: 73-76). This, in turn, reflects a broader trend in campaigns, of adapting messages and personal styles to suit target media (Blumler
150 and Gurevitch 2005: 106-107). The relationship between media and political leaders will be further examined in Chapter Eight.
Polling, data collection, and micro-targeting
Understanding target voters as intimately as possible is regarded by practitioners and scholars as key to the success of a more tailored campaign (Negrine 2007). Vast amounts of resources, time and money are spent collecting information about the electorate and, increasingly, individual voters within it, enabling campaigners to target voters according to their habits, or persuadability (Stanyer 2007: 21, 23- 24). Several participants spoke of major-party campaign teams conducting mass voter surveys and focus groups every single night of an election campaign, utilising around ten percent of total campaign budgets, or AUD$3-4 million (PP- ALP-02, PP-LIB-08, PP-LIB-10, PP-ALP-03). Every interaction between a political party and a citizen is a potential opportunity to collect data on that citizen (Semiatin 2013: 82, 87), and Australian campaigns are gradually putting in the resources required to capitalise on this. Increasingly, mass polling – conducted either on the telephone or, more and more commonly, online – is seen not only as a way to collect voters’ attitudes about certain issues or candidates, but also as a generator of big datasets, as technology used to read and interpret those datasets becomes more sophisticated, complex, and targeted. Michael Burton and Daniel Shea have noted that digital data collection represents a shift from a practice that was once based on personal relationships: “In the new millennium, the local knowledge once monopolized by loyal political workers who knew constituents by name or at least by reputation is being supplanted by computer-generated voter lists that serve much the same function” (Burton and Shea 2010: 4). Several practitioners spoke with great admiration of the data mining that enabled extremely targeted campaigning (“micro-targeting”), contributing to the victories of US president Barack Obama in 2008 and 2012 (Issenberg 2013).
Efficient and specific data collection was regarded by practitioners from both major parties as the cornerstone of a campaign, from which all other decisions flow:
151 You need to be understanding where people are in electorate-sized groups, and then you need to be able to split that data into regions, suburbs, polling booths, hell, you need to even be able to get down to individuals. And with the availability now of mass data […] recording who people are, what people want, what works for them and being able to segment them, it’s absolutely vital to performing well in the modern election campaign I think (PP-LIB-17);
So […] data collection gets right down pretty much to street level […] so you can target particular areas, you can see, and they literally map out areas where they identify which streets have high mortgage levels, might have higher level of single parent income, whatever, and you can use that information to help target the people you’re trying to influence (PP-ALP- 03).
This reveals a shift in the way that data are regarded and used by campaigns. Traditionally associated with the building of contact lists of potential supporters and undecided voters, who are then targeted using methods such as telephone canvassing and direct mail, data on voters now have the potential to build profiles of individuals who may be persuaded to vote in a certain way, and of very specific local issues that might have salience with individual voters: “if old-style campaigning involved one-to-one relationships with voters, and early new-style campaigns used a mass-marketing approach that involved one-to-many contacts, the strategy and tactics of mass customization […] is a one-to-many approach that functions at a one-to-one basis” (Burton and Shea 2010: 18). This is reflected in comments from practitioners of both major and minor parties:
I think all political parties aspire to know more about who’s voting for them and to speak to them more directly, and that’s got the potential to be more authentic, that you’re talking to people about the issues they care about and you’re not just trying to do one blanket message for everybody (PP-GRE-06).
152 If you can imagine a cross-hairs chart, you know things that will have high influence on changing vote behaviour and things that will have low influence, things that where you’re strategically advantaged, you’re seen to be best at, and themes and messages and attributes where you’re seen to be worst. And you can track over time, including within demographics and within seats, the flow of your position on that cross-hairs (PP-LIB- 14).
Micro-targeting works well where there are very large numbers of staff and volunteers able to gather and collate the necessary data, and keep them up to date. It also benefits from an environment where the data are available in the first place, for example where there are large panels of citizens to collect it from, and privacy legislation that enables the mining of massive datasets.
Despite the excitement expressed by the practitioners about the possibilities of mass data and micro-targeting, there was also an acknowledgement that as of 2013-2016, no Australian party had yet developed the capacity to plan and execute a data-driven, micro-targeted campaign along American lines, and currently, the effectiveness of these tools and techniques must be recognised as limited. As one practitioner said, “the datasets aren’t that impressive in Australia. I mean the biggest panel would be 100,000 or something, it’s pissant” (PP-LIB- 14). In addition, a change in the popular use of communication technology is complicating polling, with fewer households using landline telephones. Online surveys are problematic because they can’t be randomized as effectively, although weighting against survey data goes some way to addressing that problem (Nelson 2013).
Similarly, while the data collected from polls are vital to campaign post mortems, and provide highly specific demographic and attitudinal information about voters, the day-to-day function of polling during an election campaign is still primarily to provide campaigners with an ongoing notion about how their messaging is being received and responded to by key voters:
153 During the heat of the forty-three-day campaign, a lot of research is being done, but it’s not particularly in-depth, just because it can’t be. There’s just not the time to do it. After the election, we do quite a lot of research, like looking back and going through the data sets [collected during the campaign period] and seeing what works and what doesn’t (PP-ALP-01).
Polls – or when they are carried out regularly, “tracking research” – can give an election practitioner “a nice warm comfortable feeling”, backing up suspicions about what will resonate with voters, and what won’t (PP-LIB-10). As another practitioner affirmed: “A good political operator, a good advisor, a good pollster, will use good quant research, good number-based research to give you an idea on how you’re going, particularly in marginal seats”, and daily polling will provide “a rolling sample, you build up quite a nice sized sample that gives you a bit of a feel for how you’re travelling” (PP-LIB-08). Tracking research “allows you to be very nimble in a campaign, and to know whether something’s been knocked off course, or whether an ad has been particularly effective” (PP-ALP-02). Practitioners tended to share a preference for quantitative research over qualitative, regarding it as a more accurate picture of a large number of voters. The major parties’ campaign strategy relies on data collected by polls for both over-arching strategy and day-to-day responsiveness. The frequency of polling is key to the success of this research:
If you are privileged enough to poll all the time, you actually have a moving picture of what drives behaviours. And so that daily, nightly pictures of voting behaviours gives you really quite amazing insights into what twists the vote. You get to see what sort of things change votes (PP- LIB-14).
The need for frequency is a major reason why tracking research is not employed by the smaller parties, which lack the resources to collect and research such extensive data. However, a practitioner from the Greens also claimed that the issue of data privacy, which the party campaigns to protect, inhibits their own collection of data for polling and targeting purposes (PP-GRE-16).
154 There was a commonly voiced problem with polling for practitioners: to be regarded as “poll-driven” is an unambiguous political insult. Polls can help campaigners to feel confident that they are on the right track, but to change policy in response to them, or to be overly influenced by them, is regarded poorly. In the background to this, however, is the reality that the results of polls do affect all areas of the campaign. This proximity means that, almost inevitably, polls “become part of the political environment they are designed to mirror” and can themselves affect voting behaviour. (McNair 2003: 33, emphasis in original). The interconnectedness of polls and politics is enabled in large part by the fact that polls are often conducted by media organisations, in order to be able to report on them. Michael Delli Carpini and Scott Keeter argue that this originated as media organisations sought influence: “Public opinion polling [represents] a major advance in the mass media’s long-standing desire to become the preeminent linkage between citizen and government” (Delli Carpini and Keeter 1992). Justin Lewis extends these ideas in an attack on the practice of opinion polling, arguing that trying to quantify something as complex as human opinion is inherently compromised and over-simplistic, and that polls themselves reflect and perpetuate the ideological agendas of the political environments which create them (Lewis 2001). As Pierre Bourdieu points out, questions in a poll assume that they are the questions people want answered (Bourdieu 1993).
Focus Groups
After polling, the second main research tool utilised by the major parties during Australian election campaigns is the focus group. This type of research involves recruiting a small group of self-identified undecided voters, usually via a specialist market research company, to attend a meeting of other undecided voters, where they are encouraged to discuss their opinions on various matters. These groups are led by facilitators who direct the conversation where necessary. Focus groups are used to collect feedback from voters, to gauge what specific issues have salience and why, and to shape the way advertising material is presented. They are generally regarded as being useful only in conjunction with polling research, and tend to be seen as a tool for refining existing material. There is a prevailing notion, expressed by practitioners and found in campaigning
155 literature, that quantitative research is the reliable backbone of campaign research, whereas qualitative research such as focus groups provides occasionally useful but substantially less important nuance (Steeper 2008: 596).
Even though both major parties use focus groups constantly during election campaigns, they have a mixed reputation among the practitioners, who described them as “a necessary evil” (PP-LIB-17) or “sometimes frankly crap” (PP-ALP- 04). Both major parties recruit undecided voters for focus groups, so as to “really try and identify what it is that these disconnected voters are most likely to respond to on a positive level” (PP-ALP-03). However, the groups were seen as being prey to “groupthink” and “a herd mentality” (PP-LIB-17) where people agree with each other even though in less contrived circumstances they may not. One practitioner described a syndrome found in focus groups which he called “norming, storming, performing”:
Eight people are sitting around a table and they’re talking about politics or whatever. And they’re not interested in that. They’re interested in finding their place in the pecking order and showing off to other people. So someone will arrive late and say “oh, I’m so annoyed, my driver wasn’t waiting for me”, and someone else will say “well I have a busy job and I got here in time and I’m a plumber”. And the next person will say “well I’m just a housewife”. And that’s the norming stage […] The storming stage is when people say “oh shit, I’ve convinced them I’m an important bloke. I better act like an important bloke. How would he say this?” So you talk about TV and they’ll say, “Oh, I haven’t seen that commercial, because I only watch the ABC”. And later on they’ll be talking about Neighbours. So first they invent their persona, and then they reinforce their persona, and if you’re talking for an hour, that’s the first fifty minutes gone, and all the information you’re getting is shite. When you get the real information in a focus group, [the performing phase], is when you say “Thanks, that’s terrific. I’ll just turn off the recorder” […] And then people say “oh, you know what? What I really think is this”. And that’s when you get the useful stuff (PP-LIB-10).
156 The primary benefit of focus group research was identified by the practitioners as the refinement of the tone and language of messages. This often involves discovering “a phrase you wouldn’t think of. Or if you could think of it, you didn’t” (PP-LIB-08). This helps practitioners use words that they hope will resonate with voters: “It’s a phrase someone will say and you’ll go, jeez, that’s it. That’s what we were trying to say, in local idiom. And I think that’s where focus groups are priceless” (PP-LIB-08). Similarly, another practitioner said that one of the big advantages of focus groups is that “you get to see if there’s any emotion behind what people are saying, like ‘If Howard gets this work choices thing through then we’re fucked’, that sort of thing” (PP-ALP-16). The process by which focus group research feeds into political messaging and then back to focus groups recalls Pippa Norris’ idea of a “dynamic feedback loop”, where “campaign organizations learn about their targeted audience and adapt their goals and strategies accordingly” (Norris 2002: 128). This reinforces the idea, explored in the previous chapter, that through focus group and polling research, undecided voters imperil democracy by exerting undue and unqualified influence on its development.
The long-held notion that focus groups are more effective than polling in detecting mood, picking up on specific attitudes, and investigating reasons beliefs are held, is currently being challenged by substantial improvements in online polling technology, which allows for much greater depth of questioning, and far more sophisticated analysis of complex results. These improvements led some of the practitioners to question the future of focus group research, suggesting that it might become redundant:
If you’re a political operative and you’re in a fix it’s easy to organise two focus groups tomorrow and get some feedback from them. It used to be quite difficult and expensive to put in the field some form of survey. But now with the proliferation of online platforms I think a lot of the importance has shifted, or is shifting away from the focus group approach (PP-ALP-15).
157 Focus groups can and do provide useful information to campaigns, and reinforce by their very complexity a notion of undecided voters as not all speaking with the same voice. However, they also rely on very small groups, and extrapolating from the results they yield to explain the attitudes of an entire electorate is profoundly imprecise.
Doorknocking, canvassing and direct mail
In the 2010s, Australian political campaigning is at the beginning of a new era of technologically enhanced, data-driven research practice. But the new techniques are yet to dominate, with pre-digital techniques still favoured. Practitioners from the two major parties tended to advocate direct contact with voters using telephone calls, door knocking and direct mail, as effective ways of communicating in areas and electorates that had already been identified using survey data. Some acknowledged that there is scant evidence to demonstrate the efficacy of these forms of campaigning: “How much they’re influenced by direct mail is a complete mystery” (PP-ALP-01). However, these more old-fashioned methods of communicating with voters are still widely employed and generally regarded as effective, if expensive:
I’m a big fan still of telephone canvassing, I think it’s a very effective way of getting a message across and targeting those groups [undecided voters] (PP-ALP-03);
A canvasser, a well-trained volunteer who has an actual conversation with a voter can move them (PP-ALP-01);
I’m ringing everyone in the electorate, or as many as I can […] I’ve got a list of 2000 people who have self-identified as swinging. I know their name, I know their address, and I can very powerfully target the swingers (PP-ALP-04);
158 Mail’s working again because it’s unique […] it’s definitely better and more influential, assuming your voter contact records are good. However, it’s very expensive now (PP-LIB-14).
Given how frequently they are pitched against each other, both in terms of policy positions and election battles, practitioners from the Greens and from the National Party adopt remarkably similar approaches to direct voter contact, and for remarkably similar reasons. The two major parties are able to run campaigns with a national focus, directed from the top, which coordinates local campaigns across the country and provides a strategic framework. Information and insights sourced through local-level campaigning inevitably feeds back up the chain, but is not central to the campaign direction (Young 2004: 54). On the other hand, representatives from both the Greens and the Nationals said that they lacked the huge resources required to run multi-modal campaigns involving large-scale research and outreach, and for them direct contact was often the only option. Additionally, community-level campaigning reflects a focus of both parties on local issues and personalities, and a commonly held ideological position that, according to one Greens practitioner, emphasises the local:
It’s a space Labor have abandoned, community organising. And they’re coming back to it, so watch this space in terms of who’s going to continue to progress it, because they have a lot more resources, but we have a potentially more passionate volunteer base […] we really have to focus on what our strength is, which is our people, give the people the skills to actually be the voice of the campaign (PP-GRE-06).
The Greens use events like rallies and public protests on environmental or social issues as central components of their campaigning and recruitment strategies. Volunteers and party organisers will attend these rallies and sign up potential voters; the recruits are then invited to participate in doorknocking and canvassing for the party, or engaging with potential voters on social media. Similarly, people who sign online petitions or register online to attend events, are, as a practitioner noted, then contacted by party affiliates:
159 We were able to take people from online to offline quite successfully. And the secret there was human conversation. To take the time to ring them up and chat to them…and obviously the guys we had doing it were very persuasive and very passionate and I think that makes a difference as well” (PP-GRE-06).
Another Greens practitioner made a broader point that party affiliates come directly out of the community, and so speak directly to their communities on issues of local concern. Using the example of campaigning in inner Sydney on the issue of marriage equality, this practitioner said: “The people who live in Darlinghurst who want to talk about those issues are our members so they’re going to talk about those issues” (PP-GRE-13).
Like the Greens, the Nationals also focus on local issues and community building. Town hall meetings, for example, are proving popular and successful, in combination with exhaustive doorknocking through (often geographically vast) electorates. One practitioner said that “a big aim of our campaign is to get the candidate to meet as many voters as possible in the lead up to the campaign, because this is by far the biggest vote winner, we find” (PP-NAT-09). As Trent and Friedenberg argue, this emphasis on local, personal contact is a hallmark of smaller campaigns: “Interpersonal campaigning is not symbolic for the local candidate, as it is for the major candidate. Rather it is often the major thrust of the campaign, an essential means of compensating for the lack of media exposure” (Trent and Friedenberg 2008: 324). In the same way that the Greens recruit using rallies, protests and petitions, the Nationals will look to community organisations for candidates and members:
As people become less and less wedded to their political ideologies, they’re much more likely to be influenced by the fact that the local candidate has worked with a community group they’re involved with […] And to be honest we’ve found a few of our MPs that way. They’ve become involved with us through community campaigns […] they’ve become candidates and got involved with us because we were pushing for the causes that they were fighting for as well (PP-NAT-09).
160
The major parties also recognise the effectiveness of direct contact between candidates and voters, especially undecided voters, and they put resources into facilitating this contact. It should be noted also that the Labor party especially, in part inspired by the campaigns of President Obama in the United States, have been putting extra resources into door-knocking, and this has been credited with their 2014 victory in Victoria (Alcorn 2014; Mills 2014b). However, due to their having a far greater array of campaigning tools at their disposal, as well as operating in an environment where there is more focus on their leaders than on individual candidates, community organising, recruiting and localised contact is not as highly emphasised by the major parties, and not as well-honed, as part of their overall campaign strategies.
Advertising
While election campaigners and strategists utilise a variety of platforms and tools from which to disseminate their messages, advertising, and especially advertising on free-to-air television, is broadly regarded as being most effective in reaching and influencing a large number of people (Trent and Friedenberg 2008: 123, 154; Gilens, Vavreck and Cohen 2007: 1173; Devine 2013: 29). Television remains the most widely consumed medium in Australia (Errington and Miragliotta 2007: 20). The Voter Survey conducted for this research found that for the overwhelming majority of voters, television was their primary source of political information across all voter groups (Ch 4: Figs 4.21, 4.22). In addition, television advertising allows for complete control of the message, without the risk of awkward questions or unfavourable comment (Young 2004: 140-143). These beliefs were very much apparent in the views expressed by political practitioners of both major parties:
Mass media is still important and raising money for campaigns to reach uncommitted voters and swing voters is really important. It’s very dangerous to get outspent (PP-LIB-08);
Fundamentally the best way of communicating with them is still just paid advertisements, because they’re a captive audience (PP-ALP-15).
161
Television advertising was seen as particularly effective in reaching those voters with less of an interest in politics, because it can be placed in breaks in high-rating programs, or those which are popular with target demographics (Berger 2000: 69). For example, daytime television programs pitched at women were regarded as good, value-for-money placements to target undecided voters. (PP-ALP-04, PP- ALP-15, PP-LIB-08). Very high-rating evening primetime television programs were also targeted, although for the size of their audiences rather than their specific demographics (PP-NAT-09, PP-LIB-10, PP-ALP-02).
Practitioners from both major parties were in consensus about the role that negative advertising can play in an election campaigns. Despite agreeing that voters will say they dislike it and find it off-putting (PP-LIB-08, PP-ALP-07), there was an equally consistent view that when trying to reach undecided voters, negative messages about the other party, its leaders and its policies, are effective:
If they hate them more, you’re slightly less despised, and therefore you win. Cos they'll vote for you as an act of punishment against the other people. And therefore negative messages seem to work a lot more powerfully. They still do, and people deny it, and all the research comes out and they say “ooh, people are sick of them”, but they actually work (PP-LIB-10);
The power of the negative is still really important. Everyone hates it and when you do […] ask focus groups they say they hate it, and you’d never do any negative advertising if you believe research. But you get to the end of the research and you ask, “well which one do you remember?” [voters say] “Oh that one, that dreadful one”. Its impact is just ten times more. Hence, the yucky ads (PP-LIB-08);
It does seem that they are influenced by TV ads, and especially negative ads […] We know they don’t like negative ads, because if you get a focus group together and show them negative ads they’ll all say they hate it and why isn’t politics nicer and why can’t politicians get along, but if you run
162 an ad on TV for a month and you convene a focus group, you can hear the lines coming out of their mouths (PP-ALP-01);
If you’re communicating with a bunch of people who are pretty cynical to start with, it’s pretty much the case that they’ll retain a negative message [… the aim is] to try and leave an impression in the minds of people who are quite disconnected (PP-ALP-02);
If you can get them frightened about something, or worked up about something, that will work really well (PP-ALP-16).
The view that negative advertising is effective in targeting voters finds much support in academic research and analysis, both internationally and in Australia (Young 2004: 248-249, 256-278; Trent and Friedenberg 2008: 168-182; Iyengar and Simon 2000: 161). A common tactic is to begin an election campaign with positive, optimistic advertisements, which are designed to “set the tone” for the campaign in the media, and to appeal to the party’s support base:
You con the media that you’re going to run a positive campaign. But very soon after that, you get into the more effective negative stuff. By running positive things, you give yourself permission to then bring vicious attacks (PP-LIB-10).
Advertising of this sort, run reactively during the campaign, is directly responding to concerns that have been unearthed in focus group research with undecided voters. For example, one practitioner, who worked on the 2013 federal election for the ALP, said that an advertisement featuring an elderly woman complaining about [then opposition leader] Tony Abbott’s paid parental leave policy, “I wrote on a plane in about five minutes, I knew we had a winner there”. The ad was tested in focus groups, and “when she started talking about the unfairness of it all, the monitor just went down down down” (PP-ALP-03).
While television advertising still dominates the media strategies of the major parties, most practitioners spoke of including paid campaign messages on other
163 media platforms as well. However, it was only the Greens and the Nationals who really prioritised non-digital forms of advertising such as newspaper advertisements. One Greens practitioner made the point that the party is required by financial necessity to employ cheaper platforms: “We’ve identified that it’s a real challenge for us to compete in the mainstream media space and particularly the paid advertising space” (PP-GRE-06). Billboards, for example, are commonly used by minor parties to target local constituencies, and it is not surprising that voters in rural and regional areas, where Nationals candidates are often running, respond well to advertising in local media markets. Similarly, a Greens practitioner spoke of using advertising that targets key minority groups in specialist publications: “segmentation on issues, like we advertise in the gay press, and we advertise in some of the ethnic press […] and we might advertise in some union journals occasionally” (PP-GRE-13).
The relatively new frontier of social media and online advertising is also becoming more commonly utilised (Crigler et al. 2012). Social media sites like Facebook and YouTube are being exploited to some degree by all campaigners for their capacity to carry geographically targeted advertising; again, the Greens and the Nationals reported to use this relatively affordable tool more than the major parties, and claimed positive early results. A practitioner from the National Party said “we have heavy spends in YouTube and Facebook advertising […] reaching demographics that don’t watch a lot of traditional TV too” (PP-NAT-09). The same practitioner also said that radio was an efficient way to reach older voters in rural areas.
The Role of Instinct
When discussing specific campaign methods, and how those methods might be determined and developed, several practitioners spoke of the important role of instinct. There are a reasonably small number of election professionals in Australia. Many of the people who work for major parties on elections at a federal level in Australia do so for many elections, in several cases over decades and with a number of different leaders and candidates. In between federal elections, many work on state elections also. These are not professions with specific formal
164 training, and the practitioners have a diverse range of backgrounds. Stephen Mills argues that political campaigning needs to be recognised as a profession, despite the fact that: “There is no certificate, no college and no fellows. Critically, where the professions of medicine and law are based on an extensive body of knowledge, the skills of political professionals are…largely derived from practical experience” (Mills 2014a: 16). This may go some way to explain why several practitioners evoked some sort of an idea of inherent talent or ill-defined special capacity to understand the electorate as being important to the job. There were references to “the dark arts” or “black arts” (PP-ALP-04) of polling and research, with the implication that these skills were powerful but possessed only by a few. This taps into another aspect of Australian campaign culture, that it is “closed and secretive” (Young 2004: 280).
While the importance of research was acknowledged by all of the practitioners, this was often paired with a strong belief that sound instinct was essential if research was going to be properly interpreted and utilised. The role of “gut feel” was a recurring theme: “it all came out of a gut feeling” (PP-ALP-03); “largely it just comes down to gut feel” (PP-LIB-17); “mostly your guts will tell you” (PP- LIB-10); “A lot of it is done by research and guided by research […] nothing will beat a political leader or a political animal or a political campaigner’s experience, intuition or gut. If it doesn’t smell right, it’s probably not” (PP-LIB-08). Instinct was seen as important when it came to making decisions that were not informed by research, or in recognising situations where research findings were better ignored. These sentiments echo the suspicion that leaders who are poll-driven or overly affected by research are in some way weak or deficient.
Conclusion
Australian election campaigns in the first decades of the twenty-first century face a central confusion. Undecided voters are without doubt regarded as the holy grail of election campaigning, a cohort that must be targeted aggressively if victory is to be achieved. And yet, it is clear that undecided voters are not a single, easily defined demographic group: they do not all respond to the same messages, and have very different levels of political sophistication, knowledge and engagement.
165 Political practitioners all describe undecided voters in ways that reflect the findings of this research, recognising that as well as the “classic” Uninterested type of undecided voter, people can also change their votes for reasons of disaffection, or as a result of deeper consideration. Political practitioners all know that to group undecided voters into a single clump misrepresents the electoral environment in which they are operating. However, there is an inevitable disconnect between this theoretical awareness of diversity among undecided voters, and the practical realities of designing an election campaign, where simplifications and stereotyping are employed in order to communicate to a mass audience.
Despite extraordinary advances in technology, which have created possibilities for campaigners and strategists to know vastly more about individual voters than ever before, and an emerging communications landscape that will eventually privilege multi-platform narrowcasting over broadcasting, the fact is that the majority of Australians still get the majority of their political knowledge from free-to-air television. Creating advertising content for primetime television is extraordinarily expensive, so there is little opportunity for trial and error. This encourages campaigners who want to reach as many voters as possible to “play it safe”, crafting repetitive campaigns built on simple messages, in order to appeal to a nebulous and stereotypical notion of a undecided voter. However, as media platforms continue to fragment and diversify, and as political data collection and micro-targeting becomes more sophisticated and affordable, this situation will change, and the continued dominance of television advertising as the preferred tool to reach voters may not feature as heavily in future Australian elections. Changes to the media habits of voters, with steady declines in the size of television audiences, will inevitably have an impact on the efficacy of television as an advertising medium. Micro-targeting techniques are being developed by all of the parties, and are much more suited to online advertising, which has a targeting capacity that television lacks. In the same way that there is not one “type” of undecided voter, there is not one “type” of media, nor one type of advertising technique, nor one type of platform. It is to these media platforms that this research will now turn.
166 Chapter Seven Undecided voters in an evolving media environment
The fields of media and of politics are undergoing a period of change, with both experiencing fragmentation and diversification. Just as the electorate has become less able to be divided along clear class, religious or party lines, so are media and their audiences fragmenting across platforms, delivery vehicles and formats. From a mass media market dominated by free-to-air television, where audiences were large and the number of media sources was small, there is an evolution towards a digital age, where there are vast numbers of media products available for ready consumption by smaller, often niche audiences. It has been shown in the previous chapters that undecided voters are a diverse cohort, with correspondingly diverse media habits. One of the biggest differences between voter groups found in the Voter Survey is that Switchers and Assessors are far more likely to obtain political information from public broadcasters, whereas Undecided consume almost no public broadcaster content. This chapter will examine the relationship between undecided voters, media, and electoral politics, within the context of this evolving environment. Building on the contradictions inherent in the ways undecided voters are conceived of and targeted by political practitioners, it will consider the degrees to which the digital media environment compounds a conflicted view of undecided voters. In particular, it will examine how the stereotyping of undecided voters extends to beliefs surrounding their media habits, with a view dominating among political practitioners that entertaining, commercial, mainstream free-to-air broadcast programs are the most effective way to target them.
In making these arguments, this chapter will continue working with data collected from interviews with elite political practitioners, and will also utilise material drawn from interviews with top-level Australian media professionals. At the time of interview these media practitioners were all involved at very senior levels in the production of some type of political media, including reporting or commentating for a newspaper or other print publication, presenting or producing political television or radio, editing a political website, and running a public
167 broadcasting network. Media practitioners were questioned about how they regard the content they produce, the audiences for whom they produce it, their conceptions of undecided voters, and the broader political system within which their work is situated. By asking those who create election campaigns how they utilise mediated political communication, and by asking those who create political media to discuss their work, the chapter aims to reach a clearer understanding of the evolving functions of media as they relate to politics, and politics as it relates to media, with particular focus on how these systems conceive of and aim to appeal to an audience with a range of levels of political sophistication and interest, including the various groups of undecided voters, and the electorate more broadly.
With media systems rapidly developing and changing, media professionals are engaging with ways to exploit these new platforms to create new ways of producing political content. Most recognise that their work now has the potential to be disseminated to wider audiences, and also that the requirement to produce over multiple platforms and to endless deadlines greatly increases workload, with risk to quality. Meanwhile, the architects of election campaigns – who are reliant on media to communicate with targeted undecided voters – are, in general, individually abreast of the changes to the mediascape. However, the structures surrounding the approval and implementation of political communications strategies and content are very slow to adapt. While political practitioners recognise the potential benefits to campaigning that are provided by the digital era, they simultaneously acknowledge that new media platforms such as social media are not yet being fully exploited, and several expressed uncertainty about how to best exploit them. As a result, there remains a focus on free-to-air television as the most influential, and therefore desirable, source of earned media to target undecided voters. At the same time, a growing number of voters are utilising new and often polarised online media formats for political information and knowledge, leading to fears, presently expressed mainly in public media discourse, that an ideologically stratified news delivery system, based in social media, is creating political “echo chambers” within the electorate, and delivering them misinformation.
168 This chapter will explore the changing role of media in the contemporary context, and examine how practitioners are responding to the rapidly evolving media environment. Against this background, it will in particularly consider how media formats, including social and entertainment-based media, are being used by political practitioners to reach undecided voters.
The mediatisation of politics
Changes in communication technologies have increased the exposure to media of the majority of citizens of developed countries, and they are becoming sophisticated consumers, and adept decoders, of media messages. Portable information and communications technologies such as smartphones are positioning media as central to the way that people relate to the world. Media are integral to any consideration of contemporary politics, so much so that the consideration of the latter is impossible without consideration of the former (McNair 2003: 14; Norris 2000). Peter Dahlgren notes that “We live in highly mediated societies, and much of our civic knowledge derives from the media” (Dahlgren 2009: 81). Likewise, political systems are highly mediated, with media the primary ways by which political leaders and voters communicate with each other: “for the majority of Australians, the media represent their main connection to contemporary politics” (Chen 2012: 95).
The function of media to convey information and analysis from the political sphere to the polity has long been recognised as central to the democratic process. Media are regarded as a vital component of a healthy democracy and are required to perform important civic functions; as such they carry a weighty civic responsibility. This responsibility pertains directly to the role of the citizen as a democratic actor: media’s role, according to Walter Lippmann, should be to ensure that “a really valuable choice could be made by an amateur” (Lippmann 1922: 261). Similarly, Jürgen Habermas’ public sphere relies on a rational media supplying citizens with political information (Habermas 1989; 1974: 49; 2006). The civic function of media flows in two directions: as well as being the central spaces in which elites from the political and journalistic fields convey information and opinion to voters, democratic leaders themselves require the support of those
169 voters, which they attempt to gain via media channels, in order to be elected (Livingstone and Lunt 1994: 11).
Jay Blumler and Michael Gurevich describe this process as both “structural” (media deliver mass audiences to politicians), and “psychological” (media bestow credibility). These two elements combine to perform a normative function where media, positioned between audiences and politicians, play a hugely important role in defining what is important (Blumler and Gurevitch 1995: 13). Shanto Iyengar and Adam Simon emphasise the importance of this relationship from the position of the political field, and note that this dynamic is flexible enough that its exploitation is now an inherent part of the system: “politicians’ use – even manipulation – of the mass media to promote political objectives is now not only standard practice but in fact essential to survival” (Iyengar and Simon 2000: 150).
The centrality of media to the experience and execution of politics profoundly affects the way that politics is conducted. Politicians and election campaigns are greatly influenced by media, not just in terms of what is reported day to day, but in a more fundamental sense: the performance of politics is designed and produced for a media stage, and so media are informing and influencing politics in a hegemonic way, which transcends and extends their more obvious traditional role. Many scholars, including Rod Tiffen, have observed that media have become integral to the practice of politics:
The media pretend they are reporting a campaign which exists independently of them, when in fact the primary purpose of those campaign activities is precisely to secure favourable news coverage […] News is not incidental or extraneous to the process of electioneering, but its central arena. (Tiffen 1989: 127).
Similarly, Jeffrey Jones writes that that “politics (as it is practised) is increasingly crafted through and for media spectatorship, and hence the desired separation between media and politics no longer exists” (Jones 2005b: 8). Gianpietro Mazzoleni and Winifred Schultz discuss the “mediatisation of politics”, in which “[m]ass media construct the public sphere of information and opinion and control
170 the terms of their exchange”, and all political actors behave in a way that is media-conscious and media-facing (Mazzoleni and Schulz 1999: 249-250). In this environment, political practitioners are required to focus on media, and in particular mass media platforms such as television, as essential tools of communication and persuasion. Thomas Meyer argues that political actors have so absorbed the “codes” of mainstream media that they automatically conform to media expectations. (Meyer and Hinchman 2002). As a result, the style and behaviours of political presentation have become codified and standardised in response to supposed media requirements, and modes of presentation are self- imposed by politicians without the need for direct influence from media practitioners.
The complete absorption of media norms into politics is demonstrated by the media-facing focus of not just political campaigns, but also the performance of leaders, who increasingly are being formally trained, often by former journalists, on how to behave in media situations (Trent and Friedenberg 2008; Burton and Shea 2010). So enmeshed in public and private lives have media become that Nick Couldry advocates a recognition of the incorporation of media into all facets of society:
Media do not have discrete ‘effects’ on society: for ‘society’ itself merely points to a whole mass of interconnecting and overlapping processes, many of which are now dependent on, or saturated with, media (Couldry 2012: 133).
With the fields of media and politics being so integrated, and with the requirements of media having such a profound effect on the practice of politics, changes in media are going to have an enormous impact on politics. As the mediascape continues to evolve in unpredictable ways, it is difficult to know the full implications of the changes, which, as will be shown, is an ongoing problem for those working in contemporary politics.
171 Politics in an evolving media environment
In the past, the conversation between the political field, the media field, and the citizenry has been relatively simple to mediate. When political communication relied dominantly on analogue broadcasting, the electorate had limited numbers of media sources from which to derive their political information. Newspapers, radio and then television were the platforms used by political and media elites to communicate with voters, and the information flow was largely unidirectional, from the top down. For example, in Australia in the 1980s and 1990s, if a prime minister were to be interviewed by the popular commercial television current affairs hosts Mike Willesee or Ray Martin, enormous numbers of Australians would be exposed to the interview, because of the huge, broadly mainstream audiences these programs attracted. This made them highly desirable platforms for politicians (Young 2011: 77-78).
The contemporary media environment no longer readily allows for this type of wide-reaching political broadcast. One reason is that there is simply less explicitly political content on commercial television in Australia now than there was two decades ago (Young 2011: 77; Simons 2007: 25, 35, 109). This was attributed to several factors by the practitioners interviewed for this research. In a mass media market where financial viability still depends on the ability to attract a mass audience, explicitly political content such as interviews with politicians no longer brings sufficiently large ratings. The advent of minute-by-minute ratings breakdowns, which were introduced to Australian television in the 1990s, demonstrated to producers that long-form political content was not popular with audiences (Simons 2007: 102). A commercial current affairs executive producer explained: “with our minute-by-minute ratings you can see where people just switch off”, and this happened when politicians appear on the program (MP-12).
Another media practitioner argued that a major factor in the decline in the amount of political programming on commercial television is the demise of the media mogul. In the late twentieth century, key Australian media organisations were controlled by individual proprietors with unique agendas, and they influenced the content on their networks:
172
I think that one of the interesting things that you’ve seen in the landscape in Australia in the last twenty years is the demise of the owner or the proprietor, who saw media ownership as having elements of soft power. So if you go right back, you know even back when John Howard was Prime Minister, an appearance on A Current Affair was a part of the stop. Because A Current Affair would do some stuff on politics, and that was partly because [Channel Nine owner Kerry] Packer liked the political influence that came with owning a network (MP-10).
Another media practitioner suggested that the decline in the amount of political content on commercial television pointed less to the personalities of media owners and more to those of political leaders:
Back in the day you would have Paul Keating or Bob Hawke on the program because it was entertaining, quite frankly, and you would be guaranteed a rollicking ride through the chat (MP-12).
Contemporary politicians, according to this practitioner and others across both media and politics (PP-ALP-15, PP-ALP-04, MP-01, MP-07), are overly concerned with staying “on message”. These practitioners agreed that politicians are trained in how to behave during media interviews and appearances, to the point where their caution about saying something controversial robs their performance of naturalness or charisma, and therefore becomes inherently less interesting to a television audience. This affects the likelihood of that politician being given media exposure, which in turn can affect their political success. At a broader level, it fuels the popular concern that politicians are not genuine or honest, and contributes to voter disaffection. The relationship between the character of leaders and media performance will be explored more fully in the next chapter.
173 Media diversification and fragmentation
While all these factors contribute to an evolving environment, the most important change in the media landscape is to do with the technological advances allowing for the digitisation of media. The evolving digital era has fragmented and subverted the established delivery methods of political information, affecting how politicians conduct politics, and how citizens learn about and participate in it. The changes that media are currently undergoing include: the addition of a multitude of digital platforms encompassing blogs, mainstream and alternative news sites and online activist communities; the facilitation of direct lines of contact between politicians and their constituents via social media; a rise in the prominence and popularity of “light” news, comedy and satire, which presents political content using tropes and formats more traditionally associated with entertainment media; and an increased likelihood for political leaders themselves to appear on, or participate in, entertainment programs. It is difficult to separate and isolate these changes from one another – a greater choice of content offered by digital platforms has the effect of fragmenting the audience, which then affects the content that legacy media offer in order to compete for audience share in an environment of far greater choice, which in turn affects the choices political leaders make when employing media platforms to target voters. Further, it is difficult to draw geographical boundaries around these changes. They are affecting all developed western democracies including Australia, and are contributing to an increasingly globalised media, within which citizens in different territories can easily access and consume each other’s content.
The fragmentation of media has been framed in various ways by scholars. Some identify periods or epochs, classified by new technologies and subsequent changes in dominant methods of political communication. Jay Blumler and Dennis Kavanagh discuss “phases” of political communication. The “Golden Age” of 1945-1965 was an age of stability and clarity, where partisan lines were clearly drawn, voters had long-held partisan loyalties, and there were clear avenues for political communication. “Age Two” was the age of television, where political messaging became shorter and more visual, and more people were exposed to political content. In the current third age, media are ubiquitous and multi-
174 channelled, and audiences are fragmented, and participate in the creation of content (Blumler and Kavanagh 1999; Blumler 2001). This conception emphasises the effects that changes in media and communications technology have on the practice of politics. James Stanyer considers this in relation to the practice of political communications, observing that communication opportunities are expanding and pluralising, but that “the geography of political communication is in flux” (Stanyer 2007: 6).
Changes relating to digitisation and fragmentation also have an impact on the makeup of the audience. While television is one-to-many, the internet can be one- to-one, one-to-many, many-to-many and many-to-one (Chadwick 2006: 4-5). To fractured audiences, this makes available many more news options than they have either the time or inclination to consume (Soroka et al. 2013: 720; Prior 2007). Scholars grapple with ways to synthesise the relationship between the old ways and the new. Henry Jenkins proposes that it is “convergence culture”, where old and new media are coming together and finding ways to co-exist (Jenkins 2006). Jenkins does not restrict his notion of “convergence” to platforms, but usefully expands it to genres also, arguing that “entertainment” genres are becoming more adapted to delivering political content to audiences (Jenkins 2009). Andrew Chadwick emphasises an idea of “hybridity”, which regards media diversification and fragmentation as existing beyond binaries such as “new” and “old” media, instead occupying a space in “flux, in-betweenness, the interstitial, and the liminal” (Chadwick 2013: 4, 208); hybridity allows for the coexistence of different forms of political media. The separation and individual categorisation of varying platforms and genres also reflects the behaviour of the audience, as audiences shift between different types of media. For example, a citizen might hear a news item on the radio, seek further information about it on the internet, in the process stumbling over a satirical piece responding to the issue on his or her social media feed, which is then picked up and carried by the television news. Digital connectivity enables multiple devices to deliver an interchangeable variety of media products to a consumer, thus collapsing the boundaries that separate platforms and genres further.
175 Brian McNair’s notion of “cultural chaos” effectively describes the evolving media landscape, as it allows for a non-fixed place for media platforms, consumers of media, political and media elites, and the intricately connected relationships they all have with each other. “Chaos” emphasises the shift from a relatively ordered and structured pre-digital media (and political) environment, to one where the rules must constantly be adapted, as technology changes informational delivery methods. Further, it underlines the fact that no-one can predict where the technological communications revolution will lead (McNair 2006). McNair does not use the term “chaos” pejoratively, rather he regards the fragmentation of media as a potentially positive development, offering consumers of media more to choose from and contribute to, and bringing greater depth and complexity to public discourse. In doing so, the new platforms challenge the previously impervious position of cultural elites as the sole controllers of institutions, platforms and messages.
As media are central to politics and affect the way politics is performed, so a fragmenting media has an impact on the communication of politics. Markus Prior argues that “it’s hard to imagine that differences as stark as these have no effect on politics” (Prior 2007: 3). This is demonstrated most clearly by the ways that those in the political field respond to changes in the media field. The digital advances that are transforming media now are influencing the way politics is conducted in much the same way as did the introduction of television in the last century. It is very possible that the 2014 decision of former US president Barack Obama to announce major details of his health care policy on Between Two Ferns – a program delivered on the website “Funny or Die” and hosted by comedic actor Zach Galifanakis – will come to be seen as being as significant an event in political communications as the first televised Presidential debate between John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon in 1960.
The move towards propagating messages on digital platforms is inherently bound up in technological advances that are changing the way politics, media, and constituencies relate to each other. John Zaller uses the term “media politics” to describe the overwhelming mediatisation of the practise of politics at the end of the twentieth century:
176
The defining feature of […] Media Politics is the attempt to govern on the basis of words and images that diffuse through the mass media. The communication – whether in the form of presidential speeches, press conferences, TV ads, media frenzies, spin or ordinary news – creates a sort of virtual reality whose effects are arguably quite real and important. (Zaller, 1998: 186).
The problem with Zaller’s framework is that, written in 1998, it differentiates between the mediated and the real, even while acknowledging that the effects of mediated communication can be “quite real”. Almost twenty years later, the way the world is experienced is so mediated that media are now integral to the experience of reality. In the sphere of politics, political professionals hold a belief that “the media impression is as important, if not more important, than the reality of the daily business of government” (Stanyer 2007: 44).
The impact of multiple digital platforms on practitioners
Political and media professionals interviewed for this study all saw the fragmentation of media as bringing both opportunities and challenges to their work. The political practitioners were largely concerned with finding ways to adapt messages in order to utilise new platforms and genres, both in terms of content and delivery, with the aim of targeting key undecided voters. However, many expressed hesitation in taking risks with new technologies. Media practitioners were concerned with exploiting the reach of new platforms, while maintaining a quality product in the face of a greater number of deadlines and more platform to create content for. This concern was particularly prevalent among print journalists (MP-02, MP-13).
Political practitioners also had concerns about the increasing complexity of their work as a result of media diversification. One described the new environment as being “surround-sound” (PP-LIB-17). Others talked of the “fractured” nature of media:
177 It’s not just a matter of knowing that 33% of them are going to turn on Channel Nine (PP-ALP-03);
You have to reach them [voters] on multiple platforms. Because TV viewership is so much lower than it was, there are so many more channels than there used to be, they have the option of not watching TV but going on the internet, whatever else (PP-ALP-01).
This was echoed by a senior press gallery journalist, who also observed the difficulties the new media environment poses for those working in politics:
Trying to get your message out as a political party now is just so much more difficult. You’ve got to cover so many more bases. You can’t just drop something to the Tele, [and know that] Seven and Nine news will run it that night and John Laws and Alan Jones run with it all day (MP-02).
As well as the complication of having to develop campaign materials for multiple platforms, there was concern among practitioners that the fragmentation of audiences across multiple media channels and sources could dilute political messages:
It’s very hard to get a great momentum around significant change, given the fact that you have to go to so many media outlets to reach people (MP- 10).
This concern has some support in academic literature, with some scholars suggesting that fragmentation renders media less effective in reaching mass audiences (Prior 2007; Macedo and Alex-Assensoh 2005: 43-44). Wayne Errington and Narelle Miragliotta consider the effect media fragmentation may have on the ability of citizens to respond effectively to problems:
Audiences will […] find themselves part of a “segmented market”, without a united public voice with which to influence politics and corporate behaviour (Errington and Miragliotta 2007: 190).
178
On the other hand, there are potential advantages to campaigning that are provided by the new digital environment. As was shown in the previous chapter, online media platforms allow for a greater specificity in the targeting of niche audiences, and different media can be used for different types of messaging targeting different areas and voters. Social media posts with links to longer-form political content from places like the Australian Broadcasting Corporation (ABC) may be effective in reaching Assessors, whereas updates about politics from celebrities or entertainers might be a better way to reach Uninteresteds, for example. Some practitioners spoke about the way they were adapting their communications strategies to take advantage of the possibilities provided by new platforms:
The analogy would be, you’ve got air cover, that is we’re going to be a strong and stable government, we’re going to stop the boats, end the waste, ease the pressure on families. But then the “how” is played in local areas, and how you explain that in terms of their role and their vote is customised (PP-LIB-14).
In this model, mass media are used primarily to convey the over-arching campaign narratives, with more targeted media being used to communicate tailored messages for smaller targeted and localised groups.
The interactivity of digital platforms also enables a direct relationship between candidates and citizens. As the electorate becomes more diverse, and more sophisticated techniques are developed to identify and target smaller and smaller groups of voters, right down to individual level, it is – in theory – considered effective to create messaging specifically for multiple media platforms in order to target the different voters. However, this sort of multi-media strategy, especially campaigning using social media, is still being used very cautiously by the major parties, something that is recognised by other Australian studies (Mills 2014a: 244-248).
179 Media practitioners held similar broad views to political practitioners on both the benefits and drawbacks of media fragmentation. Regardless of the mediums in which they work, they all recognised that media fragmentation means that they face more competition, but that there is now also a greater and more diverse spread of accessible media content for audiences to choose from:
You don’t have to watch the 6pm news now if you don’t want to, you can go and watch anything, from anywhere (MP-12);
Twenty years ago, you didn’t […] routinely have the access to the entire world of thought online. There’s an awful lot of change for the better (MP- 01).
Some practitioners expressed a sense that the infinitely increased number of news sources afforded by the internet provides a greater range of material for citizens to access, and that they are increasingly adept at navigating this terrain, for example:
I think that like most cultural marketplaces, it’s fragmented. There’s really good debate out there being had. There’s really terrible debate out there being had. Um there’s really great journalism out there, there’s really terrible journalism out there. It’s unfortunately become more of the responsibility of the individual to sift through it. Because of the multiplicity of choice. That’s the shift. The shift is that there’s so much more choice it puts so much more onus back on the individual to find the good stuff or not find the good stuff (MP-01).
This comment positions the citizen as the controller of his or her own media diet. All the material required is, in theory, readily available to the interested or curious. Within a diverse audience, there is inevitably a range of interests, but then there remains a problem of how to cater to such a fragmented group. Further, there was concern expressed that the enormous quantity of news and information on offer can be confusing and overwhelming for audiences:
180 In the modern era that’s the most confusing thing, not that there’s so much information around, but that you don’t know how to really process it, or what weights to give this piece of information versus that piece of information (MP-03).
It is in this situation that the expertise of a journalist or editor, to present or curate important and relevant material, becomes useful. However, the work of media practitioners is profoundly altering. Setting aside the constant threat of job loss as media organisations struggle to find ways to deal with falling circulation and declining ratings, and to monetise online content – media makers have new demands to meet. These include: producing content over a number of different platforms, maintaining a social media profile; satisfying more frequent deadlines; and coping with a faster turnaround. Although good or trusted journalists, publications or content producers can provide guidance through the increasingly dense and complex media environment, there is a risk that unethical or non- professional media makers, being unfamiliar with codes of ethics and professional processes and standards, can disseminate incorrect, misleading, unchecked or politically biased material. All of this puts pressure on journalists:
The website is motivated by churn. They’ll say look, we’ve had the same story up for two hours, we need something new. Even if there’s nothing new, they’ve got to have something new. And you might have some rip- roaring front-page story that day which is going off, and by nine o’clock that morning, it’s yeah no bored of that (MP-02).
This “churn” – as well as the sophisticated analytics of reader behaviour enabled by online news platforms – left this same practitioner concerned about the sorts of stories and items that are prioritised:
The Sydney Morning Herald, it’s just really noticeable. Their website just goes for clickbait a lot, where you’ve got to look down low to find the politics. But it’s a very successful website. So the whole definition now of success is now being driven by traffic […] and the feedback is so instant now. Because every day we get an email from our web guys saying what
181 were the best-read stories online and on the iPad and there’s a whole breakdown of subscribers and stuff, so suddenly the editors look at that and go, well, our top story in the Fin[ancial] Review last week online was why it’s a good idea to put your car keys in the freezer when you’re away because it flattens the battery and thieves can’t steal your car. So it’s starting to change what is news, as well (MP-02).
For this practitioner, these sorts of practices represent something of a diminishing of the profession. Journalists and editors are no longer setting the news agenda based on a learned and experienced sense of what is important or newsworthy. Rather, automatically collected metrics and marketing techniques are determining what gets produced and promoted. The commissioning and posting of stories that are popular with readers does not necessarily mean that all stories will be “light”, or about subjects other than politics. However, the concern that “clickbait” will come to be exclusively preferenced over more rigorously reported news remains a concern.
Audiences, voters, and media consumption
Media have long functioned as the bridges between political elites and the polity (Kennamer 1992: 2-3). The digital environment, which facilitates a more directly mediated form of contact between citizens and elected representatives, and journalists and their audience, is further enhancing that function. It follows, then, that the lines between media audiences and democratic citizens are blurred to the point that the two groups are frequently discussed and regarded interchangeably. Blumler and Gurevitch, for example, deliberately conflate the two (Blumler and Gurevitch 1995: 14). James Webster has identified mass media audiences as falling into three main, and occasionally overlapping, conceptual categories: audience-as-mass, audience-as-outcome and audience-as-agent. Audience-as-mass is reflected in the desire to measure ratings, and concerns itself with what media people consume. Audience-as-outcome is the focus of the field of media studies, and has as its preoccupation the (frequently negative) effects that media can have on audiences. Audience-as-agent takes a more cultural studies approach, which looks at the ways that audiences interact with and actively respond to media they
182 encounter (Webster 1998: 190-207). Webster does not see these three formulations of audience as being in competition, rather they all inform the complex and diverse idea of audience.
This view of the audience as forming a diverse series of frequently interconnected and overlapping groups, with individual members having differing and sometimes contradictory preferences, concerns and habits, is essential to a comprehension of the evolving media environment. The electorate can be viewed in a similar way. Questions of what campaign messages voters will see, hear and read, how the information will affect them, and what they will do with it, all preoccupy political strategists in the same way as ratings, programming, how best to reach audiences, and audience behaviour concern media content providers. The enormous overlap between audience and electorate is recognised by both political and media practitioners. Several of them conflated the two, referring to certain audiences as being particularly desirable to reach, as they directly correlate to target voters (PP- ALP-02, PP-ALP-04, PP-ALP-03):
I like to say that the most powerful news source in Sydney is the hourly newsbreak on Today FM, because it’s almost the pure demographic of the sort of voter you want to win an election: outer suburban young to middle- aged women, in particular, who are in jobs where they have the radio on in the background, or who live in their cars so they have the radio on in their cars (PP-ALP-01).
The conflation of audience and voter is also acknowledged by those working in media; many of the media practitioners interviewed for this research recognised that their program’s appeal to politicians was contingent on their audiences comprising largely of the undecided voters that campaigns wanted to target (MP- 09, MP-07, MP-01):
During the election we pretty much got everyone we wanted […] We got Tony Abbott, Kevin Rudd, Malcolm Turnbull, Anthony Albanese, pretty much every show we had a line-up of politicians. And it’s because they know that our audience are the undecided voters (MP-08).
183
Overall, political practitioners aligned in a view that non-partisans were less likely to engage with explicitly political media. The view of the undecided voter that emerges when this issue is discussed by political practitioners, very much reflects the stereotypical conception of undecided voters as not interested in politics, and aligns with the Uninterested voter group. However, the more sophisticated and engaged voter groups, such as Assessors, are not represented in these comments:
They’ll watch the news because it’s not a long story, but if a five-minuter comes on they’ll go to the dunny (PP-ALP-15);
The more people engage with news, the more likely you are to be politically connected or aligned (PP-LIB-10);
If you’re a swinging voter, you’re not going to go and seek political information out (PP-ALP-15);
Do they lack interest in politics because they never get accessible exposure to it, or do they lack interest in politics because they’re just never going to be interested, and the media is just responding to their tastes? I think it is a bit chicken and egg (PP-ALP-02).
These views are supported in much scholarship, which since the mid-twentieth century has found a link between the consumption of explicitly political content, increased political knowledge, and a greater tendency towards partisanship (Berelson, Lazarsfeld and McPhee 1954: 246-248; Campbell 1960). For example, Prior relates the consumption of “hard” news to a tendency to be partisan (Prior 2003). Zaller writes that the more highly informed tend to be more partisan, while low-information voters are more likely to shift allegiance (Zaller 2003: 117). Max McCombs and his colleagues argue that partisanship is particularly associated with a tendency towards consuming a wide range of news media:
Political party identification, political ideology, general political knowledge, and political interest have all be shown to be related,
184 sometimes quite substantially, to diverse forms of news consumption (McCombs et al. 2011: 4).
The widespread belief that undecided voters are not interested in political media affects the types of media that political campaigners target in order to reach them. As noted earlier, television still dominates other media as the primary source of political information for most people. Doris Graber argues that the audio-visual nature of television makes its content easier for people to absorb and retain (Graber 1990), and thus “most people find that it is the easiest, quickest, most pleasant way for them to keep abreast of current political information” (Graber 2001: 3). Peter Dahlgren also emphasises television’s accessibility, arguing that it is “largely oriented to the present moment, to the experiential rather than the analytic, to the personal rather than the structural” (Dahlgren 2009: 133). Prior notes that the advent of television was an equaliser, as less educated people became exposed to political content (Prior 2007: 55, 72).
Television news is still seen as a major influencer of voter thought and behaviour (Iyengar and Kinder 1987: 120), and the primacy of television as a method of political communication is reflected in comments from the political practitioners: “If it ain’t on telly, it didn’t happen” said one (PP-LIB-10). Newspapers were not regarded as important to target, except to influence the news agenda and thereby determine what is broadcast on radio and television. The Voter Survey supports this view: it found that television is by far the preferred medium for all voters, including all groups of undecided voters, to receive their political information (Ch 4: Fig 4.22). However, while there is no doubt that television is still regarded as the most effective way of reaching target voters, not all television is regarded equally by the practitioners. One long-time campaigner declared, “I still believe that campaigns are the battle for the six o’clock newses” (PP-ALP-03). Overwhelmingly, political practitioners identified “soft” news programs and those with entertainment-based content, as the most effective and desirable for reaching undecided voters:
Morning TV is now incredibly important. These are the busy people who are getting snippets of information in the course of their day who probably
185 want some variety in their diet, truth is if you’re watching Lateline or 730 you’ve probably got a pretty firm idea about how the world should be. But if you’re watching Sunrise or Today, chances are there’s going to be a sizeable portion of those people who are undecided. (PP-ALP-03)
Television programs presented in a “variety” format – featuring a mixed group of presenters which usually includes comedians and other non-journalists discussing a range of topics and events that are not all news-related – are the most popular shows to target for media exposure for political leaders. The primetime commercial current affairs and variety show The Project, which has a panel of hosts including comedians and commentators, is particularly popular: “Politicians fall over themselves to get on that show”, said one practitioner (PP-ALP-03). Many others expressed very similar view about lighter television news programs:
If you can get your political candidate on Today Tonight for ten minutes or on Sunrise then that’s a big coup (PP-ALP-02);
You get a non-political audience, and that’s what you’re searching for (PP-ALP-15).
Even programs that do not contain any actual news are regarded as better ways of reaching target voters than hard news programs:
Neighbours and Big Brother can bring swings. The ABC won’t (PP-LIB- 10);
Our challenge was to get [the ‘Workchoices’ campaign] into the mainstream popular media, and I remember there was this moment where it came up in Kath and Kim, a line, ‘bloody John Howard, work choices’, and that was when you knew that it had got within the culture, that was an emblematic moment (PP-ALP-05).
186 Some media practitioners emphasised the relevance of content as being crucial for attracting viewers, arguing that it is not that viewers are completely uninterested in news or politics, but that the content and presentation has to be about topics that matter to them. One media practitioner described it as “News you can use” (MP-12); another said that “it’s really a matter of picking topics that actually affect their lives” (MP-08). Nor does being relevant mean avoiding politics. A practitioner pointed out that the audience of his primetime, commercial program – which attracts younger viewers and is regarded by political practitioners as being a highly desirable program through which to reach undecided voters – is not turned off by political content:
What was interesting, and I always found this vindication, was that when they did proper deep audience research, like focus groups, almost everyone said “we love how you guys do politics, it’s interesting” […] and our minute-by-minutes would suggest that we lost nothing by covering politics (MP-07).
This not only challenges the stereotypical view of the undecided voter as flatly uninterested in political content, it also raises the question of audience and voter diversity more generally. The demographic of a particular television or radio program, and the demographic of an electorate, are both determined by similar market-research based methods, so it is not surprising that the same problems are encountered when it comes to the ways both the audience and the electorate are regarded. As has been observed, the fragmentation of media platforms is analogous to an increasing fragmentation of the electorate, and in this context, the blurring of the boundaries between audience and electorate raises the need for a recognition that profiling an audience as a single bloc is just as problematic as regarding the electorate or sections therein – for example “swinging voters” – as a uniform group.
The idea of audience diversity is not recent, nor is it a response to digital fragmentation of media. Pippa Norris recognises that television audiences are diverse and are likely to be attracted to very different sorts of programing:
187 Given the different skills, experiences, and understandings that voters bring to the forum, we assume that news should be available at different levels, rather than one format being ideal for all (Norris 2000: 32).
However, media diversification has dramatically increased the choices for audiences (Prior 2007: 9, 14-15), and allowed for a greater diversity of programing (McQuail 2010: 400). Further audience fragmentation is an obvious and direct result of the fragmentation of media platforms, with “nomadic” audiences consuming over many platforms (Dahlgren 2009: 45). This diversity across the electorate, and the diversity of media available to voters to consume, is key to an acceptance that a fragmenting media landscape does not automatically equate to a decline. It is certainly changing, but in ways that can better reflect the requirements of a polity that has never been homogenous. In addition, digital technologies enable media audiences to be reconfigured as active users and potential producers (Livingstone 2008). So, unlike television, the internet has the potential to address the needs, interests and tastes of all audiences concurrently:
Media have never addressed all parts of the population equally: the press never tried, television tried but failed for many decades […] while the internet is built on the assumption of diversity and heterogeneity (Couldry, Livingstone and Markham 2007: 35).
The corresponding heterogeneity of voters and audiences was demonstrated in the Voter Survey, which showed that just as undecided voters have different levels of political sophistication, so they have different media habits, with Switchers and, especially, Assessors regularly consuming explicitly political content, and Uninterested voters avoiding it (Ch 3, Tables 3, 4, 5, 6). However, this diversity in the media consumption habits of undecided voters, and the opportunities this could represent in terms of communicating campaign messages to target voters, is not generally recognised by political practitioners.
188 Social media and other online platforms
There is an increasing necessity to regard audiences as active agents, rather than just passive recipients. The two-way relationship engendered by the digital media environment invites the audience to feed back into the political process, and interact with or challenge political or journalistic figures who were previously separated from their publics. When considering online and interactive content, it is difficult to differentiate between “old” and “new”, as most established news media outlets have significant online presences. Smaller, independent news websites exist alongside the big players, although these are sometimes owned, or have been taken over, by major media corporations. Frequently these smaller websites have much clearer ideological positions; often they take a “magazine” format, dealing with politics as well as more generalist topics such as lifestyle, food, and culture. All of these platforms utilise social media as part of an overall distribution and promotion strategies, and there is an emerging trend for political sites, especially those with a single-issue or activist focus, to exist solely within a social media site (Herman 2016).
Social media themselves have different users, uses and purposes, and cannot be regarded as a single entity. Increasingly they are underpinning other media platforms, but their rapidly, constantly evolving nature – as well as their relative newness – make lasting scholarly observations of them difficult. One constant is that these online platforms regard audience engagement and interactivity as a major indicator of success, and the ways that these factors are measured is becoming more specific and sophisticated. Audience engagement was difficult to measure in a pre-digital context, with television ratings, circulation, talkback popularity and letters to editors being reasonably blunt indicators. However, social media are affecting the ways that legacy media audiences are measured, with many news programs courting and provoking online discussion amongst viewers on platforms such as Twitter, and creating direct relationships between audiences and the creators of media:
I’ve noticed that you’ll go to a press conference here [at Parliament House] and then you’ve got to knock something up online, and within half
189 an hour you’ll have someone send you an email or abuse you on Twitter because they dispute your interpretation of the press conference, because they’ve been sitting at home on Sky watching it (MP-02).
This suggests not just an engaged element of the citizenry, but also a tendency among audiences to move between media platforms in order to interact with the creators of political media. Social media platforms are increasingly being used by creators of political media to appeal for information from members of the public, and by members of the public to contact journalists and media professionals with tip-offs (Lariscy et al. 2009: 316; Gearing 2016: 145ff). Some media practitioners discussed their use of social media platforms such as Facebook for discovering and contacting sources, and sourcing interview subjects and on-air talent (MP-08, MP-09). The digital media environment, with its emphasis on interactivity and connection, has elevated the role of non-elite citizens in the functions of political media, in part by enabling these sorts of conversations between journalists and citizens.
The impact of social media on politics is being perpetually re-evaluated, both by scholars and practitioners. One political practitioner saw that the increased speed of communication has made the practice of politics more fraught:
In the old days a minister could make a mistake and it wouldn’t be found out until the newspapers the next morning, now instantaneously, a colleague can say something in Cairns, and that will be tweeted to everybody, but particularly to the journalists with the leader in Adelaide, seconds later. And the leader gets asked, “your colleague a moment ago said ‘x’”. Woah! That’s different (PP-LIB-08).
The difference in the way political communication is conducted in the digital age is, as one political practitioner described it, “still the new and developing issue” for campaigns (PP-ALP-02). On this, there was a surprising degree of accord among the political practitioners. All were acutely aware of the changing media and political environment within which they’re operating, and yet there was a collective uncertainty as to how to respond. They recognised that social media
190 have the potential to be an influential and powerful campaigning tool, especially in targeting young voters which, as shown in the Voter Survey, are more likely to be undecided. Yet in Australia, that no one has yet used it in such a way as to make a definite and quantifiable difference to the outcome of an election. So, a mood of caution and even confusion prevails amongst practitioners as to how to respond to the changes in terms of actual campaigning.
In the same way that “heavy” or “hard” political news programs are not regarded by political practitioners as being effective platforms from which to attempt to target undecided voters, neither do they consider social media as places that regular people engage politically. There was broad cross-party consensus on this:
Anyone who is using Facebook or Twitter for politics is already committed. They’re not swinging voters […] The idea that [an average] family is sitting there each morning eating their coco pops and tweeting #auspol to work out what they should be thinking today in politics is just stupid. […] They’re not focusing on politics (PP-LIB-08);
No one’s going to engage in a Facebook conversation on politics (PP- ALP-15);
There are very few swinging voters either active on Twitter or engaging with us on Twitter (PP-NAT-09).
In part, social media are not prioritised because they are not regarded as effective ways to reach undecided voters. However, the underutilisation of social media as a campaign tool cannot be regarded as purely strategic. There is also a common belief expressed by practitioners that in Australia, their potential application as a campaigning tool is simply not properly understood.
There’s still a little bit of hit and miss about social media and how you get an outcome from it (PP-ALP-03);
191 It’s very difficult to campaign in a traditional way on social media (PP- NAT-09).
These sorts of views are often underpinned by a recognition that social media will inevitably become important at some unspecified future time, but that time is yet to arrive: [Political parties] are still struggling on how to use Facebook effectively, but that will be huge (PP-ALP-15);
I think it’s still a federal election or two away from making a squat of difference […] I don’t think people have worked out how to target it (PP- ALP-04).
Compared to the major parties, the Greens, and to a lesser extent the Nationals, are slightly more sophisticated in relation to social media use. The smaller parties have financial constraints preventing them from focusing on more expensive platforms like free-to-air television; as a result they have developed a greater reliance on, and therefore confidence with, social and online media:
[Legacy media are] really expensive for us, we don’t have a corporate or union donor base…we run strong campaigns to ban those donations essentially, so we’ve never taken it, which substantially limits our capacity to campaign in those big, mass channels. So we’ve often gone online, and that also tends to favour our voters, who tend not to engage in the mainstream media as much as everyone else does (PP-GRE-13).
Another Greens practitioner regarded some online media sources as effective in reaching undecided voters in much the same way as lighter television programs – neither are regarded as “heavy” and off-putting. Discussing the youth-focussed online news and culture site Junkee, she said that it attracted “an audience that wouldn’t be interested in party politics, an audience that wouldn’t necessarily go and seek out new political news on a daily basis, and an audience that I think is not necessarily partisan” (PP-GRE-06). Junkee has a strongly progressive
192 editorial position which shares many of the Greens’ policies, so it may be less likely to appeal to more conservative voters or campaigners.
This is not to suggest that the major parties are not using online or social media at all. Practitioners across the parties spoke of their social media use in media relations and agenda setting, paid advertising, community building and mobilisation, and enhancement of the profiles of individual politicians. Twitter is used by parties to communicate with media outlets, more commonly as a place to make media releases than as a place to hold discussions with individual journalists: “Twitter for example, we don’t see as a campaign tool. It’s media relations for us” (PP-NAT-09). As another practitioner said, “you use new media to get old media” (PP-LIB-10), positioning legacy outlets as the dominant and most desirable target. Social media also relate to “old media” in that they increase its reach and influence. Nick Couldry observed of the 2010 British general election, for example, that “television debates were universally acknowledged to be opinion-turning events, even if commentary on social networking sites amplified their effects, at least for younger and new voters” (Couldry 2012: 126). As noted in the previous chapter, several political practitioners across all parties (PP-NAT-09, PP-LIB-14, PP-ALP-15, PP-ALP-16, PP-GRE-06, PP-ALP-03) identified paid advertising on Facebook and YouTube as becoming more utilised, especially with geo-targeted ads focussing on local candidates and, to a lesser extent, issues. As one practitioner put it, his campaign team was “using Facebook as a channel, rather than as a social media thing” (PP-LIB-14).
Social media are also recognised as having potential as mobilisation and base- building tools. Practitioners from the Labor Party, the Nationals and the Greens (but not the Liberal Party) spoke of using Facebook, and to a lesser extent Instagram, to create a sense of shared community, like-mindedness – something akin to brand building - in order to attract membership and volunteers:
Is it about shifting your votes, or is it about mobilising your base? It’s a good way to get messages out to your base so they can share it with their friends, it’s a good way to get people to donate, it’s a good way to get people to show up for things, it’s good to organise people to be on polling
193 booths and all that kind of stuff […] giving the impression of the kid of party and the kind of candidate you are, that you are someone that represents a particular group of people (PP-GRE-13).
In Australia, political leaders and aspirants are now unofficially required to have some sort of social media presence to boost their profile and burnish their public image, but there are not yet any clear protocols, practices or guidelines around this – individual politicians and their advisors usually make it up as they go along. Moreover, for most practitioners, it is simply not a strategic concern. The one exception to this is, again, the Greens, who credit West Australian Senator Scott Ludlam’s social media presence as key to his victory in the 2013 senate re- election:
He himself is very good at understanding and harnessing the energy of social media, and he does a lot of his own work on those platforms, so it’s a very authentic voice […] And we did find that very powerful (PP-GRE- 06).
This practitioner believes that a clear, personal voice is the key to authenticity, but this is very hard to attain, and therein lies a risk: any message published to social media is potentially subject to the scrutiny of an enormous number of people. Mistakes and missteps are rarely missed and will be exploited by opponents. It is for this reason that the tone of politicians’ social media presence often changes as they become more senior. But ironically, in becoming more cautious and controlled, they also often negate the very benefits that social media can provide. For example, Malcolm Turnbull cultivated a social media presence as a member of parliament that frequently featured him riding on various forms of public transport. This was regarded as a deliberate counter to his well-known status as a millionaire, and was perceived as an attempt to cultivate a more everyday image. Initially, these posts were well-received, especially as they contrasted to the then prime minister Tony Abbott’s tendency to post only about official business. However, as Turnbull’s updates from public transport continued after he succeeded Abbott as prime minister, they became predictable, and started to be read as cautious, sanitised, and always on-message. Former NSW premier, Mike
194 Baird, on the other hand, gained substantial political capital by live-tweeting the final of The Bachelor in 2015, and in doing so demonstrated humour, a direct connection with his audience, and a capacity for risk-taking (Paine 2015). Currently, a successful social media presence for a politician involves a direct, personal voice, and the risk that something can backfire, as this risk brings with it an authenticity, and an implied lack of “spin”.
The benefit to political leaders who can successfully utilise platforms such as Twitter was powerfully illustrated by the victory of US president Donald Trump in 2016. Trump was aided substantially by his pre-existing celebrity status, which meant that he entered the race with a large Twitter following, which has grown by tens of thousands of followers daily since his election (Twitter 2017). However, his success with the platform owes much to the fact that the tone of his tweets was not altered when he became a political candidate: they remained highly opinionated, used characteristic and recognisable idiom and colourful language, were frequently inflammatory and confrontational, and were controversial in tone and content. Former president Barack Obama was also adept at using Twitter as a communications tool, with his tweets twice breaking retweet records (Jarvey 2017; Ngak 2012). However, Obama was significantly more restrained, as well as being less outspoken and prolific on the medium. Nor was it his primary medium for communicating with voters, unlike Trump. Overall, voters tend to respond well to politicians they perceive as being genuine, unscripted, and direct. As a political practitioner said of contemporary Australian voters:
They can pick a fraud. They can pick spin. And they’re communication literate these days. And they don’t take anything at face value. And so when a politician says something, they’re wondering “why is he saying that” and not taking it just at face value (PP-ALP-07).
While political leaders and their advisors remain cautious about social media, their uptake by voters continues enthusiastically (Highfield 2013; Bruns 2013; Jacobson, Myung and Johnson 2016; Harris and Harrigan 2015). This was reflected in the Voter Survey, which found that the Uninterested voter group of undecided voters, which contains a higher than average (26%) proportion of
195 people under 24 (Ch 4, Fig 4.8), are also more likely than other voters to use social media as their main source of political information (Ch 4, Fig. 4.22). This finding is supported by other research. One survey of youth behaviour shows that social media are now a primary source of news and political information for Australians under the age of thirty (Duggan, Ackland and Richards 2014). International research into the utilisation of social media for political purposes by young people has found that Facebook and other forms of social media are used by citizens aged 16-29 to “do politics” (Vromen et al. 2016: 513). Further, the Voter Survey found that when general use of social media was considered, a substantial bloc of undecided voters, especially Switchers and Assessors, are using social media for political activity (Ch 4, Fig. 4.25).
Social media use for political activity and discussion is not, however, limited to just the highly politically engaged. Facebook analytics consistently show that political topics dominate Australian discussion, suggesting that these social media conversations are part of mainstream behaviour. For example, in June 2016, Australian Facebook users were most likely to be using the platform to post about the Australian federal election and Brexit (Facebook 2016). The problem for politicians and election strategists is that, as Stephen Coleman argues, citizens are outstripping the political elite in terms of the primacy and sophistication of their use of online communications and social media:
Citizens tend to be more innovated and sophisticated in their use of ICT [information communication technology] than the politicians who represent them. The danger for the political class is the emergence of a subterranean sphere of discourse form which they are excluded (Coleman 2005: 15).
The online environment, including social media, has allowed for a vast expansion of who can be considered a political actor, as it has provided non-professionals with the opportunity to directly affect political situations (Couldry 2012: 122). However, Norris cautions of a “digital divide”, warning that the new digital environment does not indicate the existence of a utopian virtual agora, because many people – particularly those in developing countries – still lack the
196 connectivity, resources, education or opportunity to participate in it (Norris 2001: 18).
Although social media are being used by many voters in the developed west to talk about politics – and arguably the internet allows citizens to inform themselves more widely than ever before with easily accessible and highly divergent news and opinions – there is a prevalent concern that, with a wide-ranging menu of media options, voters self-select sources that confirm their existing political position (Blumler and Kavanagh 1999: 213; Kennamer 1987: 293; Stanyer 2007: 12; Prior 2007: 214). Habermas terms the clusters of much smaller, fragmented groups which all consume multiple media sources “isolated issue publics” (Habermas 2006: 423). Cass Sunstein argues that the “Balkanization” of online media, in which citizens are “nudged” into small, self-affirming groups, makes it a lot less likely that they will naturally encounter challenging views (Sunstein 2007: 6). Sunstein privileges real-life experiences and places, such as public parks, as sites where citizens can accidentally encounter a diversity of views and opinions (Sunstein 2001: 3; 2007: 24-27). However, his automatic association of “real” encounters and places with diversity, in contrast to virtual sites, which are assumed to be closed and homogenous, is not empirically tested. Moreover, his assertion that the internet is keeping citizens at home and thus preventing them from participating in civic life (Sunstein 2007: 19) does not anticipate mobile technology.
Concerns about “echo chambers” were expressed by several practitioners. Some regarded the fragmentation of the media-consuming electorate into small groups as putting some groups of voters out of reach of campaigners:
It is a bit of an echo chamber […] I think people more and more just gravitate to what they want to hear. I know I do (PP-ALP-02);
It’s an echo chamber. People follow particular views and they reinforce them and they’re talking to themselves (PP-LIB-10).
197 In one case, the “echo chamber effect” was used as a justification for not focusing on social media as part of an election communications strategy, as there was an assumption that everyone involved in political discussions in these types of forums must already be committed to a particular party, and so are not motivating campaign strategy in the same way that undecided voters do:
I know from all of my Tweets, you’ve got committed Liberals screaming at committed Labor people and backwards and forwards and there’s not a swinging voter there (PP-LIB-08).
Similar views around the self-selection of ideologically aligned audiences were also expressed by some media practitioners:
People go to sources they agree with and they have their ideologies reinforced over and over again without actually seeking information from another source, or seeking a different viewpoint (MP-04).
This view is backed up by research showing that, if information does not conform to an individual’s prejudices or predispositions, they will be likely to ignore or discard it: Zaller calls it the “resistance axiom” (Zaller 1992: 44-46). One media practitioner used the idea that people only pay attention to media that confirm their prejudices to defend the role of public broadcasting, saying that operating under a charter that required balanced reporting meant that people were exposed to differing views:
It is now more possible for audiences to choose the media outlets that reinforce their world views […but] we’ve taken advantage of digital media to open up our airwaves to far more voices and far more debate than we ever have before (MP-10).
Although media fragmentation has been held up as both the cause and the cure for citizens selecting media that confirm their existing political beliefs, these concerns are by no means new. Joseph Klapper observed a selection bias among citizens in 1960, before televisions had become ubiquitous in homes:
198
[…] by and large, people tend to expose themselves to those mass communications which are in accord with their existing attitudes and interests. Consciously or unconsciously, they avoid communications of the opposite hue (Klapper 1960: 19).
Unlike television, however, the “echo chamber” of social media is determined by the algorithmic tailoring of content in, for example, Facebook newsfeeds: citizens are perpetually delivered news from like-minded people and sources, and “filter bubbles” ensure they are insulated from divergent opinions (Ohlheiser 2017; Bell and Taylor 2017: 68). This worry has greatly increased since 2016, which saw the election of Donald Trump to US president, and the Brexit referendum, in which Britons voted to leave the European Union (Heller 2016; El-Bermawy 2016; Baer 2016); the surprise with which these events were met was indicative not only of political and media polarisation, but also revealed a polarised electorate in genuine ignorance of the thinking and intentions of the other political side. This polarisation is intensifying as Facebook becomes a platform for small but very widely distributed media outlets whose purpose is to disseminate highly partisan and often factually dubious material produced by non-journalists. This reached its apotheosis during the 2016 US presidential campaign, when “fake news”, much of it produced by people not trained in journalism and seeking simply to boost their personal fortunes, was thought to have a discernible influence on the election result (Silverman and Alexander 2016; Kirby 2016; McCoy 2016). As these trends continue, some sort of regulation, or at least the introduction of an ethical code similar to a journalistic code, will be required to ensure that newsfeeds receive content from a variety of partisan and ideological sources.
Conclusion
The professionals who create election campaigns all know that social media will, inevitably, become a central campaigning arena, but despite the headlines (Bourke 2015), Australia is yet to fight the “Facebook Election”. As argued in Chapters Five and Six, political practitioners are aware that undecided voters are a complex group with diverse media habits, and yet they are still largely creating media 199 messaging for a stereotyped, homogenous bloc which is presumed to be uninterested in politics, and to consume mainly free-to-air television. In other words, they’re campaigning towards an Uninterested undecided voter, while almost entirely ignoring the sizable groups of Switchers, who have a degree of political interest, and Assessors, who are more likely to be actively following the campaigns.
This dissonance, in which the knowledge of practitioners is not reflected in their strategic decisions, is similarly reflected in their use of media for communicating their messaging. All the practitioners know that there are now many more platforms with which to communicate with and engage voters – and that voters are using social media for political discussion in large number. Yet very few are fully exploiting these channels in a considered or strategic way.
This is largely due to an unwillingness to risk using untested and unfamiliar formats and methods that may not yield results; neither major party is prepared to venture too far beyond the tried and tested areas of television advertising and candidate appearances on targeted commercial television and radio shows, even though television is becoming less watched. The huge expense of election campaigns, the enormity of the stakes, and the fact that the tiniest of margins can determine victory or defeat, have all contributed to a professional culture which is risk averse. The fact that political campaigns prefer to communicate with target voters on programs which are not primarily “political”, such as The Project and Sunrise, and that more and more voters are using social and online media platforms as sources of political information and engagement, raises an important question: in an evolving environment, what now counts as “political media”? This central question will be considered in the next chapter.
200 Chapter Eight Reconsidering political media
The debate about what constitutes “political media” has found new battlefields in the digitalisation of media, which has resulted in the fragmentation of platforms and audiences, and the blurring of different types of content and genre. Traditionally, political media have been regarded as the domains of broadsheet newspapers and “serious” broadcast programs, that adhere to a codified set of principles and serve a reasonably clearly articulated democratic purpose. However, in the interviews conducted for this research, political practitioners were unanimous in their belief that soft news, variety, comedy and other non- traditional news programs are the most effective media platforms upon which to reach undecided target voters, simply because these voters are thought to watch these shows in large numbers. This implies a secondary factor, which is that these programs are more watched because viewers find them more appealing. But despite their popularity with audiences and perceived benefits to election campaigns, entertaining political programs are frequently disparaged, with accusations that they provide inadequate political information, or are not serious enough to play a credible role in political discourse. Just as there are normative ideas about what makes good and informed citizens, so are there hierarchies around the perceived value of types of political media.
Notions around undecided voters play into these normative ideals: good citizens are supposed to consume serious, “hard” news media from worthy sources, such as broadsheet newspapers or public broadcasters, which they are expected to conscientiously digest in order to make informed and rational voting choices. Voters who do not seek out such news, or who obtain their political information from sources that do not align with traditional ideas of what constitutes political media – such as “soft” news, comedy, or variety shows – are often regarded as irresponsible, less competent citizens. Further, there exists an anxiety that the types of media that voters – especially undecided voters – are consuming has become too entertaining and too distracting, and this has resulted in a citizenry that is disengaged and ignorant. In this narrative, citizens, determined to continue
201 consuming entertaining media content that is popular and therefore assumed to be unedifying and unchallenging, are at best complicit in, and at worst the cause of, a perceived democratic decline.
There are two things to consider here. First, the automatic equation of undecided voters with soft news media, and the value judgements inherent in that equation regarding both the voters and the programs – framing both as negative – point to a set of normative judgements that are narrow and fail to represent a changing electorate and evolving media environment. The second consideration is a broader one – what impact does media consumption have on citizens’ participation and knowledge, and how are those things judged? Just as the previous chapters have advocated a wider and more nuanced view of undecided voters, this chapter will argue that notions around what constitute political media are expanding, as the traditional dichotomy of “information” and “entertainment” collapse. So, rather than berating citizens for consuming inadequate amounts of the wrong types of media, notions of what constitute “acceptable” political media platforms need to be expanded to include non-traditional platforms like comedy, satire, and “soft” news, served across all media – television, radio, print and online, which, as shown in the Voter Survey, are all used by varying types of undecided voters as sources of political information. This chapter will continue to utilise data collected from the Voter Survey presented in Chapter Four, and interviews conducted with senior political and media practitioners.
Media malaise and hierarchies of media
The Voter Survey demonstrated that a reasonably sizeable proportion of certain types of undecided voters, namely Switchers and Assessors, claim to consume what would traditionally be regarded as “hard” news, defined broadly as news content that does not explicitly attempt to be entertaining, and is usually found in broadsheet newspapers and “serious” broadcast programs on public radio and television (Ch 4: Fig. 4.22; Tables 4.5, 4.6). However, the Voter Survey also shows that, when considered as a single group, the majority of undecided voters either do not consume any explicitly political media (Ch 4: Fig. 4.23), or watch lighter political programs (Ch 4: Tables 4.3, 4.4). For example, 17.8% of
202 Uninterested voters watch The Project, while only 4.4% of them tune into 7.30 (Ch 4: Tables 4.4, 4.5).
The lighter programs are often regarded poorly by scholars and commentators, many of whom who hold them at least partly responsible for an overall loss of civic virtue among the populace. This notion is part of a literature which grew up towards the end of the twentieth century, and which has become known as “media malaise”. Pippa Norris defines the term simply, as the assumption that media negatively affects the way people in engage with politics (Norris 2000: 4). At the core of the media malaise literature is the view that the increased preference of citizens for entertainment over more informative sources of news is having a potentially disastrous impact on democratic function, as the polity is no longer sufficiently informed or engaged to participate adequately. This is often expressed in terms of the types of media platforms that citizens choose to consume, with newspapers (especially broadsheets) being regarded as providing a better sort of political information than television. The media malaise literature can also be characterised by a sense of nostalgia for a past golden era where media satisfactorily served the functions of democracy; citizens were more informed, and more likely to participate in traditional civic activities such as joining political parties (Skocpol and Fiorina 1999; Putnam 2000).
Michael Delli Carpini notes that the term “media malaise”, or for a short time “video malaise”, has been in use since the early 1970s (Delli Carpini 2004: 400), however the roots of the argument go back further. Core to the idea of media malaise is a hierarchy of media, and when considering the ways that different types of media are afforded greater or lesser status, it is useful to look at the recent history of news delivery, in particular ideas around what constitutes “good” and “bad” journalism. One of the most influential theories of news in modern times is the “social responsibility theory” described by Theodore Peterson (Peterson 1956). Peterson holds an idealised view of journalists, seeing them as fearlessly preserving and protecting the independence and seriousness of the fourth estate as an essential bastion of democracy. Peterson identifies some enduring rules of the social responsibility theory: journalists and the media elite have a responsibility, akin to a noblesse oblige, to decide what information is delivered to the masses,
203 and then to deliver it in an evenly balanced manner; fact and opinion need to be very clearly identified within news reporting; news must be entirely factual and clearly distinct from editorial comment; and it must be presented without bias or influence. All of these principles continue to be seen, relatively unambiguously, to have a central function in maintaining reliable and trustworthy media.
However, one of Peterson’s rules is a little more difficult to interpret: according to the social responsibility theory, news media can be entertaining, but it has to be entertaining in the “right” way. Peterson writes that the theory “accepts the role of the press in furnishing entertainment, but with the proviso that the entertainment be ‘good’ entertainment” (Peterson 1956: 74). That “good” is not in any way defined indicates how self-evident Peterson considered its meaning. It can be surmised that for Peterson “good” news media fulfils a duty to inform, and “bad” news media is insufficiently serious, aiming merely to amuse. Even if it this is not his intended meaning, it is certainly the way that those who have followed have interpreted it: it will be shown that the idea that news media must serve some noble, idealised and highly codified purpose has been advanced by many scholars, who, following Peterson, often frame their arguments within a core concept that there are “good” and “bad” forms of news media. This is frequently expressed as “hard” and “soft” news, with hard news being regarded as good and soft news being regarded as bad. If news media become overly entertaining, they are said to go “soft”, meaning that their value as a source of useful information is devalued. This attitude is expressed by Lance Bennett:
A common journalistic hard news standard is what an informed person in society should know. This standard applies to many government activities, the positions of candidates in election campaigns, international developments that may affect us, policies that may change our lives, emerging social problems, environmental hazards, and historic events, among other things. By contrast, soft news is emotional and immediate. It requires no justification beyond grabbing the attention of an audience and, ideally, getting them talking the next day about what they saw on [television…] last night. Soft news stories have no general social significance beyond the intrinsic drama or sensational images that stir
204 emotional reactions in audiences. Soft news is not based on an independent journalistic idea of what citizens or members of society should know (Bennett 2003).
Like Peterson had fifty years earlier, Bennett assumes that there are agreed, universal standards for events that are of “social significance” and information that people “should” know, even while there is no consideration of how such a standard might be determined or agreed upon. Such assumptions occur frequently in this literature. Thomas Patterson, for example, laments that “the news is based increasingly on what will interest and audience rather than what the audience needs to know” (Patterson 2000: 3), as if the two cannot coexist. For Patterson, a decline in journalistic rigour is a direct threat to democratic discourse and function (Patterson 1993, 2000).
Frequently, as in the above quote from Bennett, “soft news” is automatically presented as being a product of television, rather than including, for example, commercial radio or tabloid newspapers. It was shown in the last chapter that television is regarded by both scholars and practitioners as being a more accessible, entertaining medium, and so it follows that television is the focus of many of the critiques that regard journalism as failing to deliver on the social responsibility theory. It has been observed that consumers of newspapers are more knowledgeable than those who rely on television (Vromen, Gelber and Gauja 2009: 179-180; McCombs et al. 2011). However, this does not support the argument that television is inherently responsible for a lessening of civic engagement.
Writers and theorists have attacked television from various angles, although they are generally informed by the notion that the medium inherently and intrinsically requires things to be simpler, and more entertaining. This, by extension, leads to a view that television is unable to convey content that is regarded as serious or meaningful, and therefore more suited to an audience who are less inclined to digest complex political information (for example the Uninterested undecided voter). Even though he never frames television as explicitly corrupting to viewers, these lines of arguments follow the technological determinism expressed by
205 Marshall McLuhan in his famous dictum that “the medium is the message” (McLuhan 1964: 25). Neil Postman, for example, argues that the dominant news medium of the age directly determines its level of political discourse:
[…] under the governance of the printing press, discourse in America was different from what it is now – generally coherent, serious and rational […] under the governance of television, it has become shrivelled and absurd. (Postman 1986: 16)
News, or indeed anything requiring any sort of cognitive engagement, is to Postman fundamentally unsuited for television which is “a format for entertainment, not for education, reflection or catharsis” (ibid 87-88). His assumption is that being educational and being entertaining are completely incompatible. For Jeffery Scheuer, television has reduced the level of social discourse to levels almost imbecilic. The combination of television’s commercialism, its popularity and its use of “sound bites”, has, according to Scheuer, “impoverish[ed] political debate”:
The outward symptoms of that impoverishment are everywhere: mindless and manipulative political advertising; shallow political dialogue and equally shallow TV news programs; a wide (but not always informed) mistrust of both media and political figures and institutions; electoral turnout below half of all eligible voters (Scheuer 1999: 3).
Scheuer sees the electorate as being complicit in this decline, although in his version it is because citizens sense that the media is inadequate and mistrusts politics in general as a result. Roderick Hart shows no such respect for the polity. He holds a scepticism of the ability of the masses to responsibly analyse television’s messages, arguing that television’s danger lies in its sinister ability to make us all believe that we are well informed, when in fact we are just having our susceptible emotions enflamed:
Many Americans […] feel eminently knowledgeable about politics, and that is a danger of some consequence. A democracy […] becomes
206 imperilled (a) when its people do not know what they think they know, and (b) when they do not care about what they do not know. Television miseducates the citizenry but, worse, it makes that miseducation functionally attractive (Hart 1999: 8-9).
The focus of these scholars is on the failure of an entertainment-based media to deliver adequate political knowledge, and the inability of an intellectually lazy citizenry to be concerned about this, or even to care. The idea that media are at most responsible, and at least highly implicated, for a lessening in civic engagement and trust in politics is advanced by many other scholars (Skocpol 2003; Chan 1997; Sabato 2000; Macedo and Alex-Assensoh 2005). However, the most influential propagator of the media malaise theory is Robert Putnam, who views television as being complicit in social and political problems that reach well beyond a dumbing down of journalism (Putnam 1995, 2000). Putnam holds that television has been largely responsible for a decline in social capital, which he defines as being derived from relationships with fellow citizens through the shared membership of civic institutions:
More television watching means less of virtually every form of civic participation and social involvement. Television viewing is also correlated with civic involvement, including poverty, old age, low education and so on (ibid: 228).
In Putnam’s view, television is implicated in a decline in membership of civic institutions, lower voter turnout, and a drop in political knowledge among the electorate, as citizens choose to consume irrelevant, entertaining content. He casts back nostalgically to a pre-television era where democracy thrived, upheld by well-informed, politically engaged citizens.
Not all scholars arguing that media are having a negative effect on democracy hold citizens in poor regard. Some frame what they perceive as media’s failure to serve democracy as a systemic one, in which media organisations and their leaders are pursuing their own capitalistic interests at the expense of their civic
207 duty to inform their audiences (McChesney 1999; Stoker 2006). In this model, it is not the citizens’ fault that media are deficient in providing proper political news; they are merely consuming what is most readily available. For Pierre Bourdieu, the problem is circular: television, in its quest for popularity over quality (the assumption is made that the two cannot coexist) produces facile content: “In short, the focus is on those things which are apt to arouse curiosity but require no analysis, especially in the political sphere” (Bourdieu 1998: 51). However, the polity are inherently implicated in this: he popularity of television is, to Bourdieu, in itself indicative of its lack of merit, in much the same way as Baudelaire and Flaubert and their artistic contemporaries regarded “immediate market success [as] suspect” (ibid: 27), because the masses are presumed to be unable to discern fine art.
Bourdieu’s primary concern about the pernicious effects of television is its scale and reach, which enables those who control its content to influence a vast audience who may not even be aware that they are being influenced. In other words, Bourdieu’s concern is with the structural effect of the medium which exerts a hegemonic power. This is in contrast to Putnam, who is concerned with the effect of television on individuals, who carry the blame for abandoning civic responsibility. For Bourdieu, the rise of television (and television news), poses “a serious danger for all the various areas of cultural production, for art, for literature, for science, for philosophy, and for law. What’s more…I think that television poses no less of a threat to political life and to democracy itself” (ibid: 10).
In Australia, former Australian Labor Party politician Lindsay Tanner also links declining media standards with declining democratic practice, attacking the news media, and television news in particular, for abandoning their responsibilities to inform the electorate. Instead, Tanner claims, they present a circus-like pastiche of politics, focusing on stunts and simplifications, and are directly responsible for a decline in voter trust and democratic standards (Tanner 2011). Tanner’s argument does recognise the centrality of media to the way that politics is understood and practiced. However, his denunciation of journalistic decisions attempting to make news more entertaining or accessible as a “dumbing down” draws an arbitrary line
208 between serious (good) and light (bad); smacks of elitism; and overlooks a genuine need for politicians to communicate their policies, platforms and personalities to a mass audience. Also writing in and about Australia, David Salter similarly bemoans a dumbed-down media, more focused on entertaining and making money than on informing the public. Salter claims that “the media” is failing, but does not specify what media or to what standards; nor does he directly connect an impaired media with a democratic decline. His claim is simply that a lesser media product is being consumed by an audience unprepared, unwilling or unable to either deal with or demand anything more (Salter 2007).
The persistence of the view that television is deleterious to culture is particular to news, and especially reporting of politics. While television generally has been recognised by scholars for decades as having cultural significance which makes it worthy of serious consideration, research and analysis (Williams 1974; Hall 1975; Hartley 1999), the view that entertainment media, especially television, have trivialised politics and infantilised political debate continues to be prominent in popular discourse (Kurtz 2012; Rubin 2014; Hyland and Gordon 2011). During a public address in 2016, Matt Bai, the national political columnist for Yahoo! News, argued that the interest of news media – in particular “new” media – in covering the personalities and personal lives of politicians has created an environment where serious, policy-based reporting could not find sufficient purchase; he admiringly cited Postman’s Amusing Ourselves to Death (1986) in order to support this claim (Bai 2016).
Common to many of these arguments is an implicit system of value, so obvious to the authors as to not need to be elaborated on, contextualised, or justified. In order to be good and of value to our democracy, news media must be serious in tone and it must engage in detail with policy over personality. These arguments hold that this is most effectively done in print but, given its popularity, television must overcome the limitations inherent to the medium and provide serious news also. In addition, most of these arguments assume that the audience can be divided: in one group are the clever citizens who have the education or sophistication to be able to recognise and decode television’s messages, and in the other are the vastly
209 greater number of poor dupes whose uncritical acceptance of what comes from the television is undermining our most important civic institutions.
The media malaise scholarship has been challenged by many scholars, and there are two things common to most of the refutations. First is an identification with what Brian McNair calls the “pragmatic optimists”, as opposed to the “romantic pessimists”, with the latter casting back to an idealised past where citizens were engaged, but that has been corrupted by media, and the former recognising that things are changing but regarding this as positive rather than catastrophic (McNair 2003: 222-224). A second commonality in this literature is a desire to expand what constitutes political engagement and knowledge beyond their traditional conceptions, and recognise that old ideas are less applicable in an increasingly mediated world.
Norris provides an effective and influential dismantling of media malaise with her refutation of Putnam’s Bowling Alone. While she does find evidence for a relationship between television viewing and lower participation rates, she challenges Putnam’s equation of the two, as vastly over-simplifying what constitutes “television”. Norris finds that if the types of television watched are considered, the picture changes significantly, with people who consume any sort of political content on television more likely to be civically engaged (Norris 1996). She identifies a “virtuous circle”: a connection between news consumption, knowledge, and participation that is self-perpetuating, with those who consume news media being more likely to display traditional indicators of “good” citizenry, and those who do not less likely to be engaged with the political process (Norris 2000). Others have found similar links, for example that the consumption of news media on public broadcasting networks is associated with civic engagement (Aarts and Semetko 2003; Curran et al. 2014; Jones and Pusey 2008; Soroka et al. 2013).
The media malaise thesis has also been challenged by scholars emphasising informal practices of political participation which frequently involve media, such as citizens co-consuming media with (sometimes indirectly) political themes (Couldry, Livingstone and Markham 2007), citizens using media to discuss
210 politics with their networks both on and offline (Coleman 2006), and citizens using social media to conduct political behaviour (Highfield 2016). Gianpietro Mazzoleni and Winifred Schultz challenge the very premise of media malaise, by acknowledging that politics have been “mediatized”, but questioning whether this justifies apocalyptic suggestions of the destruction of democracy (Mazzoleni and Schulz 1999: 260).
The roles of political participation and knowledge in fears of democratic decline, and the ways that media malaise have been absorbed into the so-called “crisis of democracy” debate, will be considered more fully in Chapter Nine. In relation to media, however, it is unhelpful and unrealistic to simply blame undecided voters, or indeed the general populace, for so-called inadequate media habits, or to chastise media organisations for simplifying their content in order to attract audiences (Throsby 2013: 100). Given the popularity of “soft” news and entertainment-focused television both with audiences and as tools of political communication, a closer examination of their worth, in the context of being regarded as legitimate forms of political media, is warranted.
Entertainment and information media
The years surrounding the turn of the millennium yielded a substantial body of scholarship that argued for expanding the notion of what might constitute journalism and political communication. At the same time, the framing of television, in particular soft news and entertainment TV, as culpable for the dumbing down of political discourse and, consequently, a democratically dangerous ignorance among the contemporary citizenry, was being challenged. These challenges were catalysed, in part, by a rise in the number and popularity of soft news and variety programs, comedians dealing in politics, and online news outlets. But the significance of all of these factors was substantially boosted by what was to become the biggest story in the United States at the end of the twentieth century: the affair between White House intern Monica Lewinsky and US president Bill Clinton. Despite the best efforts of veteran campaigner George Stephanopoulos to contain what had become known among the Clinton team as a
211 “bimbo eruption”, the Lewinsky affair escalated into a scandal so significant it brought about a presidential impeachment.
The scandal, which was broken by blogger Matthew Drudge on his website The Drudge Report in 1998, fuelled the shift away from legacy news sources and “serious news”, and in many ways became emblematic of the changes occurring in political media: the story had its first life via an online platform; it provided rich material for satirists and comedians; it placed subjects normally associated with private lives into the public arena; and the coverage surrounding it ignored any concerns that there were topics that should be off-limits in political reporting. James Stanyer regards the event as critical in the development of what he calls the “intimization” of politics, where there is an expectation on the part of those in politics, media and the audience that the private lives of politicians is of interest and will be publicly reported (Stanyer 2013). The story was as compelling as a soap opera, and was told in news media using tropes and narratives familiar from that genre (Zoonen 2005: 20). After the scandal, politics broke “out of the shells of respect, deference and distance from people’s daily lives in which it had formerly been enclosed” (Blumler and Gurevitch 2005: 112).
The media elites – editors, journalists and commentators – who traditionally controlled what politics was reported, and thus what the public learned, were steamrolled by the new players, from bloggers to satirists. Bruce Williams and Michael Delli Carpini observed that these once powerful figures had their positions diminished: “The Clinton-Lewinsky scandal illustrates a fundamental change in the contemporary media environment: the virtual elimination of the gatekeeping role of the mainstream press” (Williams and Delli Carpini 2000: 61). Brian McNair comments on the reversal of the usual order of media influence, saying that the event was the “first occasion on which a web-based news outlet set the agenda for the media as a whole” (McNair 2006: 119). The impact that the media coverage of the event had on the politics was considerable: John Zaller used the scandal as a springboard from which to develop his “media politics” framework, which argues every political policy and communication is issued with consideration of how it would be conveyed through media (Zaller 1998).
212 The post-digital media environment is often called “new media”, and there are many different genres and platforms that might be considered to fall under this banner, including comedy and satire, as well as websites and web programs, cable television programs and social media. It can be difficult to compare these programs, platforms and genres across territories. In the United States, for example, shows like The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, and Last Week Tonight are frequently regarded as “new media”, insofar as they are produced for cable networks, are regarded as outside of the established political media, and are based on an entertainment/information hybrid that had not previously been formatted so formally. This language has bled into considerations of the Australian mediascape, and “new” is used to describe forms of political comedy and satire such as The Chaser and Gruen Nation, and softer news formats such as The Project and Sunrise, despite the fact that they broadcast on the legacy platform of free-to-air television (Harrington 2013).
As will be shown throughout this chapter, some scholars of “new media” examine the changes through the lens of what it means for journalism. Some respond directly to the “television malaise” scholars, and challenge the binaries inherent in the division of news content into “entertainment” and “information”, “soft” and “hard”, “bad” and “good”. These studies are generally defences of television and entertainment forms, employing arguments and data that link them with benefits to citizens’ political knowledge and civic engagement. Several of these studies argue that such media forms have secondary benefits, such as indirectly teaching citizens about politics and political behaviour, encouraging otherwise disengaged or undecided citizens to participate in and think about politics, and providing opportunities for leaders to show more human and relatable sides to their personalities.
Much of the scholarship concerning the evolving nature of journalism involves attempts to develop frameworks that allow for an expansion beyond the rigid and highly codified traditional conception of the field. Writing at the end of the last century, when the new media forms were becoming prevalent, John Hartley observes an increased tendency to combine the “two worlds of the ‘trash’ and ‘quality’ mainstream media, coalescing fact and fantasy, politics and personality”
213 (Hartley 1996: 23). He argues that the expansion of what is considered “political” to include issues such as gender or environmental protection has changed the nature and content of the public sphere beyond Habermas’ original conception, and these changes inevitably affect related media (Hartley 1996: 58). Samuel Winch develops an idea of “boundary work”, or concentrating on the edges of fields traditionally regarded as distinct, in order to allow for and better understand their intersection – for example journalism and entertainment can be related, examining the intersection of the two provides insight into their combination (Winch 1998). Examining how scholars regard journalism, Barbie Zelizer recognises the problems with putting limits on the term, both with regard to content and platforms (Zelizer 2004). Stephen Harrington contends that Australian media scholars “have been too narrow in their views about what counts as journalism”, arguing that soft news and satire programs must be included (Harrington 2013: 4). Peter Dahlgren applies the same thinking to political content specifically, arguing that “what should be classified as political communication is expanding” (Dahlgren 2009: 55).
An expansion of what might be regarded as journalism requires an assessment of the merits of the new types of media that provide news-based information. A dominant response to the incursion of entertainment formats into “serious” news has been to frame it in terms of loss, decline, or dumbing down. These arguments assume that new news media are at least implicated, if not directly responsible, in a supposed decline in the levels of political knowledge in the electorate. There are two responses to this. First, it is possible, even likely, that citizens have always received their political information incidentally, reading a newspaper or watching a current affairs program for the softer or more sensational stories, and coming across harder news in the process, but that this behaviour remained hidden while when the only data on the type of news citizens were consuming pertained to the number of newspapers purchased, or entire programs watched.
Second, the automatic association of the consumption of soft news with political ignorance is not borne out in some key data. Matthew Baum has demonstrated that while “soft” news sources do not regularly cover politics, when they do – usually in the case of a foreign affairs crisis or a domestic scandal – far more
214 people are exposed to the stories than when they only run on “hard” news programs. Soft news allows “many otherwise politically inattentive individuals [to be] exposed to information about high-profile political issues […] as an incidental by-product of seeking entertainment” (Baum 2002: 91). This is supported by Norris, who writes that “it has become easier to bump into the news, almost accidentally, than ever before, and this entire process has broadened the background of the news audience” (Norris 2000: 15). Similarly, Blumer and Gurevitch observe that people can be exposed to political communication “inadvertently as it crops up in genres and formats not usually designated as ‘political’” (Blumler and Gurevitch 2005: 110). There are multiple ways that news can be encountered: social media feeds are where young people are most likely to encounter politics without necessarily intending to (Loader, Vromen and Xenos 2015: 411).
The idea that news can be delivered as an incidental by-product of other media consumption recurred in interviews with media and political practitioners. The producer of a satirical television program described a process by which jokes about politics get included: “essentially you sneak in [political] content that is not what people would naturally choose to watch” (MP-06). A presenter of a “soft” political television program made the point that often people’s prejudices about what they are going to enjoy influences them to avoid political content, which they actually would like:
I think maybe there are people who have stumbled across [my program] and wouldn’t necessarily go and watch a show where someone talks to politicians, but they accidentally saw it and found it a bit interesting (MP- 03).
The executive producer and co-presenter of a popular satire program took this idea further, suggesting that comedic content could actually encourage people to seek out political information:
My favourite comment from anyone about our show was […] this girl who said “I love [your show] and I love watching it but there were a whole lot
215 of jokes I didn’t understand because I didn’t read the newspapers, so I started reading the newspapers and I got the jokes more” (MP-06).
Echoing the notion that more entertaining content is better absorbed by viewers, Markus Prior finds that people have a much greater recall of facts pertaining to soft news stories than those viewed on traditional, hard news programs (Prior 2003: 161ff).
The idea that presenting political content in a “jokey” way would reach more viewers, and as such voters, was also expressed by political campaigners. One said that the “formula” for achieving political “cut-through” with voters was to target soft news programs and then have candidates adopt a light-hearted or entertaining demeanour, and then “try and get your political messages into that” (PP-ALP-02). Another political practitioner supposed that audiences are more likely to pay attention and absorb political material if it is presented in an entertaining way:
They don’t want to be lectured. They don’t want to hear an angry exchange. They’re there to get their information in a reasonably happy sort of away, as a general proposition (PP-ALP-03).
This comment also reflects a common belief that voters are turned off by overly adversarial politics (McAllister and Ravenhill 2014).
Much of the scholarship around soft or entertaining political media emphasises the benefits to ordinary citizens of even a small amount of knowledge or interest, and regards the ideal that everyone needs to be thoroughly informed in order to be functional democratic citizens as unrealistic. Zaller suggests that many citizens do not have time to properly attend to political news, so soft news sources can provide an adequate informational base (Zaller 2003). Patricia Moy and her colleagues argue that “information-based political content can help the electorate, but not all segments and not all the time” (Moy, Xenos and Hess 2005: 124), an argument that sits well in an environment where a highly diverse electorate is served by a post-analogue, multiplatform media. Consideration of soft news
216 sources is grounded within the broader concepts of value and judgement. Zaller rhetorically asks a central question: “By what clear normative standard should the quality of news be judged?” (Zaller 2003: 110). McNair goes further: in considering the trends to present political information in a more entertaining way, he explicitly sets aside judgemental criteria when assessing them:
I have interpreted [these media trends] not as evidence of dumbing down, tabloidisation, Americanisation or any of the related terms deployed in the various narratives of decline which characterise cultural pessimism, but as intelligible and in many respects welcome journalistic responses to changes in the technological, economic and political environments which shape political culture (McNair 2000: 171).
Comedy and satire
The debate over what “deserves” to count as useful political media has found particular focus in the area of comedy and satire. The rise in number and popularity of late night, politically focused television satire programs – especially the highly influential The Daily Show, hosted from 1999 to 2015 by comedian Jon Stewart – has generated a substantial body of scholarship that is concerned not just with the critical merits of this genre, but also its civic role. Barry Hollander makes the point that “The fragmenting mass media environment has created a host of new ways people say they learn about public affairs” (Hollander 2005: 402), and is one of several scholars who argue that late comedy programs are a source of knowledge for people who might be generally less interested in politics (Hollander 2005: 404; Jones 2005a: 222).
Considering the potential of satirical political television shows to concurrently entertain and inform, Joanne Morreale applies an Aristotolean framework to the collapse of the boundaries between entertainment and information. She argues that television satire programs such as The Daily Show employ both deliberative and epideictic rhetoric, with the former used to build a logical argument from political or news-related content, and the latter used to make the argument funny (Morreale 2009). By allowing for a concurrent exploitation of these two rhetorical
217 styles, Morreale rejects the fundamental construction of those arguing that non- serious news content fails to seriously contribute to political debate, culture or experience. The collapsing of the boundaries between “serious” and “entertaining” also challenges the judgemental hierarchies that have accompanied these categories, and rejects a positioning of television, satire and new media content as automatically lesser than serious politics on legacy platforms. Jeffrey Jones argues that political and comedy satire programs:
[…] have challenged normative assumptions about who gets to speak about politics on television, what issues will be covered and in what manner, and how audiences can engage politics on television beyond simply deferring to expert knowledge. Furthermore, they challenge the boundaries between “serious” and “entertaining”, programing erected in the network era, which increasingly have come to be seen as artificial (Jones 2005b: x).
Jones explicitly links the fragmenting of media to this shift. Citizens of contemporary western democracies have a “multitude of ways” to engage with politics day-to-day: “ways that just as easily can be crude, limited, dismissive, trivial, playful and emotional as they can be thoughtful, wide-ranging, generous, complex, rational, serious, and high-minded” (Jones 2005b: 18). This emphasises the complexity of people’s requirements of media, which may involve different genres and delivery methods at different times.
The idea that all citizens will all happily consume an edifying diet of serious news media is also profoundly unrealistic. Liesbet van Zoonen argues that entertainment and politics are closely related, because “most people ‘do’ politics in their leisure time” (Zoonen 2005: 2). Zoonen argues that entertainment forms are inclusive, engaging and interesting, and the dichotomy of “good” and “bad” is false and constructed anyway (ibid: 8). For Jonathan Gray, the presentation of politics in entertaining ways increases both its appeal and its importance: “entertainment may serve an important role in making politics emotive, playful, accessible, interesting, and thus vital” (Gray 2008: 147). Doris Graber argues that
218 news media being engaging to audiences is essential to its own survival: “if news is not cast in interesting ways, many citizens will shun it” (Graber 2001: 144).
Several scholars find that entertainment formats deliver benefits that reach beyond their ability to engage and inform an audience that might otherwise be uninterested in explicitly political content. Jones sees them as having come to hold a degree of influence in the wider political sphere, affecting the direction and tone of debate, as well as the electorate (Jones 2005b: 5). Gray and his colleagues argue that satirical content can connect audiences and form communities of like- minded citizens (Gray, Jones and Thompson 2009: 16). Gray contends that television entertainment formats do not have to be explicitly political to be politically instructive or useful; the 1960s sitcom Bewitched, for example, reflects dominant cultural concerns around second-wave feminism and the women’s movement, while White House drama The West Wing provides an education in political processes (Gray 2008: 144, 136). Stephen Coleman takes this further, examining the success of the reality television program Big Brother in engaging large audiences to vote for competition candidates, and encouraging voters to discuss the processes by which they make decisions in public forums such as social media. Coleman argues that Big Brother’s voting audience is taught to behave as virtuous citizens would be expected to in an election, and as such, the show provides a useful education in democratic processes. Further, he argues that politicians and political campaigners could learn skills from it, such as how to appeal to a wide audience (Coleman 2006).
The defence of satire often invokes journalistic standards, as satire is seen to be increasingly performing functions of journalism. Satirical programs can expose and reflect cultural values, for example “anti-politics” sentiments (Rolfe 2016). They can be “watchdogs”, keeping political leaders in line with public expectations, and calling them to account when they deviate (Baym and Jones 2013: 11). This watchdog function is a traditionally journalistic one, and it has been argued that many of the satirical and comedy news programs provide political education to audiences in a journalistic sense, using journalistic methods such as rigorous research to serve the journalistic function of informing the public (Baym and Jones 2013b; Gray, Jones and Thompson 2009; Harrington 2013).
219
The comparisons between political satire and comedy with journalism were made by media practitioners. One practitioner explicitly described his role as performing a watchdog function:
The job of the jester is to be the only person who can make fun of the king. The role of satire is to criticise up the chain. To resist against power and hold it to account (MP-07).
Practitioners spoke of the large amounts of research and investigation that go into the production of the soft news and satire programs they worked on. One spoke of the “huge production demands on every segment” (MP-07). Another referred to speed in which comedy needs to be presented, and how for television this requires enormous amounts of content to be sourced and assembled:
The amount of content that is digested and pulled together in an interesting way is unrivalled […] and it’s interesting that in fact sometimes the amounts of research and analysis that’s involved in a piece doesn’t actually get noticed (MP-06).
These levels of research are common across the industry. Discussing the US cable program Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, a producer of Australian political and entertainment programs said:
You look at the thirteen-minute monologues that Oliver’s doing, they’re research-heavy. And they’re fact checked. And that’s pure journalism to me, that just happens to be really entertaining (MP-01).
However, even though there was an acknowledgement that journalistic techniques and methods were employed in the creation of their programs, comedians, satirists and producers of this sort of content frequently do not identify as journalists. When host of The Daily Show, Stewart was often obliged to deny membership of the journalistic profession (Hollander 2005: 402), despite a number of awards for
220 journalism (Gray, Jones and Thompson 2009: 4), and persistent inclusion in rankings among the most trusted journalists in the United States (Baym and Jones 2013b: 5). Some practitioners said that they could not be counted as journalists because they had not been trained as journalists (MP-07, MP-01). However, there was also a sense expressed by practitioners that not being journalists gave them a unique power that reflected an outsider status, and a sense of not being as dependent or as accountable on the political establishment:
The political media has to live in parliament house with these people. They have to not blow their cover, they have to not ruin their friendships, they have to not ruin their relationships, they have to sometimes hold stories, they have to hold their tongue […] but the thing about satirical shows, or entertainment shows that deal with the same material, is that we don’t have to get up next week and ask [the then federal treasurer] Joe Hockey’s office for a favour, or ask [the then prime minister] Tony Abbott for an interview. We survive without that, so it’s possible to stand on the outside and heckle (MP-01);
I’m not in the press pack. I don’t need the prime minister to let me ask a question in every press conference between now and the next election. I’m in a studio on a show where politicians need the exposure (MP-07).
The freedom that not being part of “establishment” journalism confers on media practitioners when presenting political content also operates in youth-focussed news media, with those working on one youth show saying “We have license to have personality […] we can get away with a bit more” (MP-08). Their youthfulness meant that they were not held to the same normative expectations to be serious and respectful, could joke around more, and ask “risky” questions of politicians (MP-09, MP-08).
While this outsider status has benefits for both the kinds of questions these broadcasters can ask, and the way that audiences relate to them, there is still a requirement that they maintain a sense of responsibility to their work. Several practitioners spoke of the responsibility they felt to their audiences to deliver them
221 reliable information upon which they could base their decisions about how to vote, especially if the audience member was undecided (MP-01, MP-02, MP-04, MP-07, MP-12, MP-13). The blurring of the boundaries between entertainment and journalism must also come with an awareness and maintenance of ethical standards. For example, the argument employed by former talkback radio host John Laws that he should not be found guilty over the “Cash for Comment” scandal of the late 1990s because as an “entertainer” he was unbound by journalistic standards, was not upheld in court (Spence 2011: 103).
In engaging critically with major institutions like media and politics, satirical programs like The Daily Show and The Colbert Report help their audiences to develop critical thinking, and to question dominant cultural messages. In constantly critiquing and satirising political and media figures, statements and claims, these shows encourage their viewers to be critical of these voices and not automatically trust or rely on them as sources of information (Day 2009; Gray 2008; Baym 2009; Jones 2005b; Harrington 2013). Gray, Jones and Thompson describe the effect of satire in sharpening critical faculties:
When it works, satire TV is that rare delicacy: something that entertains, yet also makes us think critically, something that hails us as audiences looking for a laugh, yet also as citizens desiring meaningful engagement with public life. Gradually, satire TV has crept up on the news as one of the preeminent genres used to understand varied political realities (Gray, Jones and Thompson 2009: 32).
Fundamentally, this sort of programming is interesting and engaging, which encourages people to watch it. It also strives to be challenging and thought- provoking, encouraging people to think about politics. A media practitioner emphases that when a program is interesting it is more likely to be watched, which then makes it attractive for politicians to participate:
We set out to make politics interesting to people who wouldn’t be interested in politics […] I think that’s why it became a bit sought-after for politicians, we had no interest in making politicians look boring, because
222 that’s boring television, and we just never wanted to make boring television (MP-07).
Overall, both political and media practitioners recognised the benefits of presenting politics in ways that are appealing and entertaining to people, be they mainstream or niche audiences, or undecided or committed voters.
Leadership, character, and the role of emotion in politics
Comedy, variety and satire programs offer politicians the opportunity to show sides of their personalities that have not traditionally been regarded as relevant within the political field, but which are increasingly being seen as important factors in the democratic decision-making process. They also enable leaders to reach and connect with new audiences:
Of course, politicians the world over understand that as popular entertainment shows, news parodies also offer unique opportunities for them to brandish their public image and influence the national conversation among demographic groups other than those traditionally attendant to news (Baym and Jones 2013b: 10).
Political practitioners regarded soft news and entertainment programs as good platforms on which the more charismatic leaders can effectively perform, and connect with voters. Harrington says that the appearance on the variety-style news program Sunrise of then senior federal politicians Kevin Rudd and Joe Hockey enhanced the popularity and public image of both, and allowed them to connect with new demographics of potentially undecided voters who might not normally be seeking out political material (Harrington 2013: 59), a sentiment that was echoed by political practitioners, notably contemporaries of and advisors to Rudd (PP-ALP-02, PP-ALP-15, PP-ALP-16). According to one, shows like Sunrise and The Project give politicians:
[…] an opportunity amongst that group [of undecided voters] who are very cynical about politicians to be a bit human. You know, to let their guard
223 down a bit, to laugh, to have the mickey taken out of them, all those things are disarming for that group, because they’re looking for a bit of humanity and reality in their politicians as well. They don’t want a formulaic response to issues, as a rule, people in that sort of an audience, so they’ll be much more responsive to a lighter touch (PP-ALP-03).
The notion of being “authentic” arose among political practitioners as an essential but elusive leadership quality that could be more easily expressed through non- traditional formats like entertainment television and social media than within the rigid formality of traditional news formats (PP-GRE-06, PP-ALP-07). One practitioner described contemporary politics as “the quest for authenticity”. Traditional news formats, which are heavily codified in presentation, have come to be read by audiences as false, and as a result viewers respond cynically to them, becoming disaffected:
What’s basically happened now is that media management is so scripted, but it’s basically artificial. And the viewers are actually picking up on this. I’m amazed that news shows run a lot of this sort of stories because they are so contrived, artificial. The big search for this, what people want is authenticity. And authenticity implies a degree of riskiness. That’s why all these kinds of shows like The Project and Rove Live, is that you come in under the radar as sort of “entertainment”, and the fact that it’s kind of unstructured, people find that more appealing (PP-ALP-15).
Authenticity was mentioned by several practitioners (PP-GRE-06, PP-ALP-03, PP-LIB-17, PP-ALP-07) as being a highly desirable political commodity, although it was not clearly defined. Not every candidate can bring to a media appearance a sense of humour, charisma and light-heartedness, deliver accessible policy information and stay on-message – all while seeming genuine. There was a general acknowledgement among practitioners from both the media the political fields that these sorts of lighter formats were not for every candidate. Some were naturally good performers, some needed to improve, and some were unlikely ever to shine in such formats. Political practitioners would sometimes put leaders onto those programs “heart in mouth” (PP-ALP-04), and politicians who were deemed 224 to be lacking in the requisite qualities would not be allowed onto these programs at all (PP-ALP-15, PP-ALP-02, PP-ALP-03, PP-LIB-08, PP-GRE-06, PP-ALP- 16, PP-ALP-07). Similarly, media practitioners favour politicians who are “good talent” and likely to provide an entertaining interview or segment (MP-12, MP-07, MP-09, MP-08, MP-01). “The key thing”, one practitioner said of what makes a political candidate successful as a performer on television, “is your entertainment value and your ability to engage” (PP-ALP-15).
However, there is a concern that in the quest for authenticity, political leaders either try too hard, or miss the mark. This could reflect a suspicion about the adoption of marketing techniques into politics, where “brand authenticity” – a broad idea of being genuine and without fakery – is highly researched, packaged and advertised. One media practitioner commented that politicians “just use the rules of advertising. They’re constantly selling themselves. They’re marketing themselves as brands, and as products” (MP-01).
New media programs were not unambiguously regarded as good opportunities for politicians. There was a sense expressed by some practitioners, especially from those working within “establishment” media, that appearances on lighter programs were a sad necessity, but also a degrading part of contemporary political campaigning:
You’ve got to go on FM and get the piss taken out of you by Biffo and Bongo, you know. I’ve got to tell you, I know, they hate having to do it, but they’ve got to do it. They have to go on and belittle themselves and their profession (MP-02).
This idea that leaders must endure a belittling experience in order to reach undecided voters expresses the tension for leaders in finding the balance between “serious” and “entertaining”. Straying too far from the gravitas of the office risks a loss of respect, however being unwilling to joke at all can lead to being regarded as out of touch and unlikable. US presidential candidate Mitt Romney, for example, refused to be questioned about global warming by a snowman in an interview during the 2008 election campaign because it was “demeaning”. This
225 decision fed his image of being out of touch and lacking in spontaneity and humour (Jenkins 2009: 189).
The importance of the character of leaders emerged among practitioners in two contexts. Firstly, as alluded to above, there was an idea that soft news allowed leaders to show a different, more personable aspect of themselves, and in doing so could find a greater appeal with voters, especially those who are not typically interested in people talking only about politics. This is reflected in comments from both media and political professionals. One political campaigner said the shows that give candidates the opportunity to portray character are “lovely”, because:
Every politician starts with a blank canvas. And the more you can paint in that canvas yourself with interesting things, then the fewer holes there are for your opponents to paint in on that canvas in a negative sense (PP-LIB- 08).
The second, related way that practitioners spoke about the character of political leaders in media, returns to the question of how different forms of political content are valued. The criticism that politics has become overly focused on personality at the expense of policy is directly related to the criticism that entertainment is being elevated above information, to the detriment of democracy. Just as the automatic equation of “entertainment” with frivolous, unnecessary and distracting content is rooted in normative value judgments that are not always valid, so is the interpretation that a voter’s concern about the personality or character of a leader is inherently in opposition to serious political consideration. That “low information” voters, who conform to the stereotype of the undecided voter, are also thought to vote on personality increases the stigma associated with this practice. There is a long-held idea that responsible members of a functional polity are unaffected by “superficialities” such as candidate personality, preferring to base their votes on rational appraisals of policy and platform (Lippmann 1922; Key 1966; Habermas 1989). James Stimson acknowledges the importance of character in a leader, but cautions that it does not necessarily elucidate “a candidate’s political faith, the groups he will appease and those he will ignore, or
226 the problems he will sponsor” (Stimson 1975: 411). Trevor Parry-Giles reflects the normative stance, arguing that a focus on personality is the first misstep in political coverage that fails to educate or inform:
American elections, particularly at the presidential level, are dominated by images of personality-based arguments. As a result of this focus, voters are not provided with meaningful public policy discussions upon which they can base their vote. The blame for this debased state of American campaign politics falls on the news media, with its horse race coverage and fixation on polls, or on the campaigns, with their negative commercials and dumbed-down rhetoric, or on the public, which lacks the capacity to digest and process sophisticated discourse about public policy (Parry-Giles 2010: 38).
In these sorts of constructions, the rational, intellectual and virtuous are elevated in traditional ideas around engagement, while the emotional and the passionate are marginalised and denigrated (Dahlgren 2009: 83). However, studies have demonstrated that voter decisions are substantially influenced by perceptions of the personalities of the candidates, and that this does not necessarily indicate a deficiency on the part of the voter (Bean and Mughan 1989). Arthur Miller and colleagues conclude that a consideration of the personality of politicians is a valid and important part of the factors that enable a voter’s decision:
[…] candidate evaluations are not necessarily superficial, irrational, or purely short-term. Voters may focus on the personal qualities of a candidate to gain important information about characteristics relevant to assessing how the individual will perform in office (Miller, Wattenberg and Malanchuk 1986: 522).
Other scholars consider the benefits of the personalities of candidates in positive ways: Fred Cutler finds that many voters, especially “non-sophisticates”, use personalities of candidates as useful cues upon which to base their votes (Cutler 2002: 470); Drew Westen argues that personality is an aspect of an emotional decision-making process that is intrinsically political (Westen 2007); and Michael
227 McGee looks to English history to show that personality has always been part of political decision making, wondering why “‘issue’ criteria” should be “inferior to ‘image’ criteria” (McGee 1978: 153). As politics becomes less formal, so do politicians become more relatable (Stanyer 2013). More broadly, George Marcus and Cheryl Hall each seek to rehabilitate emotion and passion as relevant and important political traits on the part both of leaders and of voters (Marcus 2002; Hall 2005).
The recognition of the importance of character in political leaders was reflected in comments by practitioners from both media and politics:
I actually think that character is an important part of politics. Who you are in a crisis matters, and it’s as legitimate to worry about that as it is to worry about um whether there’s a costing problem in the model of whatever it is (MP-06);
I don’t think you can divorce character. I know a lot of people who say that character should be set to one side. But I don’t see how it can be. Because character informs pretty much everything you do, and if you are in a position of such immense power, which it is, then I think yeah, people have a right to know what you’re like (PP-LIB-12).
One practitioner made the point that traditional news formats do not allow for an adequate consideration of the character of leaders, something that she regards as being a vital and valid part of the decision-making process for most people. Her own program was born from a desire to convey to the audience the types of social interactions that journalists frequently have with politicians, but which few media formats can convey:
I think people make their minds up about other people in a very simple way. And politics isn’t really any different. I mean they look at something and they think, do you look shifty, are you a bullshit artist, do you seem like you’re avoiding the issue, or are you someone who says stuff that kind of makes sense to me. As a political journalist in the gallery you’re
228 chopping things up, you’re packaging it, your inputs are different, you’ve got your press releases and your documents, and you’ve got your sources, and you’ve got your interviews, and you’ve got your press conferences, but another really big input is [...] just the social interaction that you have, that gives you a really good human barometer as to whether you should believe certain politicians [...] And the more you can find out [...] and the more you can get an instinctive feel about what a politician’s like then the better decisions you can make, about, you know [...] what’s reliable, what isn’t reliable. And I think that I always thought that there was a huge amount of by-product in that process, that intel, which was something we all used to make up our minds as to whether someone was ridgey-didge or not, that is actually legitimately interesting and would be useful to voters, but you actually don’t really report that stuff, because it doesn’t have that much of a place in orthodox political reporting environment (MP-03).
Another practitioner criticised judgement inherent in much of the discourse about political media, which are bound in concepts of virtue that are not only moralistic, but also not reflective of a realistic conception of what citizens are really interested in, and what they want in their media diets:
I mean the thing that really annoys me is the bullshit debate about, “oh, well it’s just the media, they just focus on the detail, what people really want is just policy analysis”. And it’s like “No, they don’t. Of course they don’t!” […] What do people want? There are people in this building [the ABC] who say “We need some more serious policy debate”. But then they say, “did you see the guy who put his penis in a glass? He’s a politician! Unbelievable”. I think that most people do that. They go between political gossip and political substance (MP-06).
This stresses that there is no need to set “serious” and “entertaining” media apart from each other: audiences can move between genres, both light and heavy, and the two are often complimentary. Most media practitioners agreed that one cannot be too prescriptive about what an audience should watch, and that citizens of different levels of political sophistication are able to easily find and access a
229 political media source that they want to consume for a particular purpose, or fits their level of political interest or sophistication, be it “hard” or “soft”:
You have to have a dissemination of information that gives everybody the best chance of getting what they can (MP-03);
I think we need to recognise that just the newsreaders sitting at a desk will appeal to some people, and I think they’d be very upset if you changed it, but it’s not going to appeal to everyone […] and that’s why different programs, different presenters, different formats, different timeslots will all be a way of engaging (MP-10).
There are many reasons that new forms of news media – including soft news, satire and comedy – are being rehabilitated from their traditional, negative image of being superficial, democratically useless and even dangerous, and fostering ignorance in the electorate. It is not just that this content is consumed by undecided voters and are therefore appealing to campaigners. They also provide at least some information to parts of the electorate that may otherwise be uninformed, they include disengaged people in the political sphere, they encourage critical thinking about political institutions including media, and they can even provide some sort of instruction in various democratic processes. Crucially, their success and existence challenges entrenched normative judgments about what, and importantly, who, can play a serious and worthwhile role in democratic practice.
Conclusion
Over the course of the twentieth century, media became even more fundamental to the practice of politics in representative democracies, as they provided the primary platforms by which those in the political sphere communicated with those they represent. The digitisation of media is radically changing the methods and modes used to communicate with friends and strangers, the imparting and receiving of information, and, fundamentally, the way the world is experienced. As such, these changes are profoundly and indelibly disrupting the way electoral
230 politics is conducted. Candidates and leaders have many more platforms upon which to disseminate their messages, but they are also confronted with an audience of voters with far more choice of what to attend to. Traditional boundaries between the personal and the political are further disintegrating, and there are no longer clear rules for what successful politicians look like, nor protocols determining their behaviour.
New types and genres of programing and content are providing political information to audiences which are adept at recognising and interpreting media codes. These changes have attracted, as have much media before them, a raft of normative judgements that apply as much to media as they do to audiences. Voters – especially undecided voters – who consume media programs that are not “serious” are judged using terms similar to those pejoratively applied to the programs themselves, decried as irresponsible, lightweight, and dangerous to democracy. “Political media” are divided into serious and flippant, or informative and entertaining, with the serious being seen as “good” for citizens, and the entertaining as “bad”.
However, such judgements and binaries do not apply in the evolving digitalised media environment. Changes as substantial and significant as the digitisation of media require new ways of regarding old products, people and practices. It must be recognised that voters now graze widely over a vastly expanded media landscape, and that there is no “right” or “wrong” way to obtain political information. Notions about what constitutes acceptable sources of political information, and therefore what can be described as “political media”, need to be updated to include new platforms and genres.
Updating notions surrounding political media is a central part of redefining what it means to be politically informed and engaged. As the lives of citizens are constantly mediated, so too does media behaviour need to be brought into a consideration of political behaviour, education and engagement. Further, as media themselves are becoming more inherently participatory, so too should they be viewed as places of political participation, the places where citizens of all levels of political sophistication, and their leaders, engage with, learn about, and perform
231 politics. Therefore, media behaviour needs to be recognised as not just symptomatic of political participation, but central to it. The relationship between media, participation, citizenship and democracy is the subject of the next chapter.
232 Chapter Nine Undecided voters, citizenship and democracy
This thesis has argued that stereotypes around undecided voters have developed and changed over time, and it has challenged the stereotype that has dominated the view of undecided voters in Australia in the late twentieth and early twenty- first centuries. This stereotype is based on a single type of undecided voter, termed Uninterested in the Voter Survey, who is disengaged from and ignorant of politics, and unlikely to consume media that is explicitly political. In challenging this dominant stereotype, this thesis has argued that there are many reasons that citizens change their votes, including disaffection with politics, or the forming of an informed decision to choose a different party. Overall, undecided voters display a much wider range of political interest and sophistication than they are typically credited for.
This thesis has also argued that conceptions of “political media” need to be widened to include a variety of genres and platforms. What unites all of these arguments is a concern with democracy: how both citizens and media are seen to contribute to democratic practice in positive or negative ways. In this chapter, democracy itself will be considered. Specifically, is the view that it is in crisis warranted? How does voter behaviour, especially in regards to political engagement and knowledge, feed into narratives of crisis? How are undecided voters, as the targets of election campaigns, particularly vulnerable to accusations of complicity in civic decline?
Arguments about democratic health and function are ongoing, perennial, and most likely irresolvable. This is particularly relevant within the context of a resurgence in populist nationalist movements in several developed democracies, including Australia, the United States, the United Kingdom and France, which have reignited concerns about democracy globally. However, this chapter argues that democratic crises come and go, and each brings with it fresh challenges and legitimate concerns. They are generally underpinned by a sense that citizens, and media, are failing to uphold abstract, normative standards. Undecided voters are
233 viewed as especially complicit in democratic decline. If undecided voters are regarded as ignorant and disengaged, then their influence on the way politics, and especially election campaigns, are conducted can only be viewed as negative. However, if the broader view of undecided voters, advocated for in this thesis, is adopted in theory, and applied in practice when designing election campaigns and political messaging, then the threat of democratic peril is lessened. This chapter argues that a reconsideration of what is “good” democratic practice allows for more confidence that citizens are capable of responding to the challenges of their time, and a more optimistic view of the health of democracy overall.
Further, it provides some reassurance that, even if the normative indicators of civic virtue, such as voting and a view that obtaining political knowledge is desirable are accepted, undecided voters do not conform to the civically irresponsible stereotype. This chapter will draw upon data from the Voter Survey which finds that the majority of undecided voters would still vote even if it were not compulsory, and that most believe it is important to acquire political knowledge. As well as Voter Survey data, this chapter will continue to utilise interviews conducted with political and media practitioners. It will first consider political engagement, then political knowledge, and then voter disaffection, finishing with a broad appraisal of standards of civic duty in contemporary Australia.
Contextualising narratives of democratic decline and crisis
The previous chapter examined the notion of “media malaise”, wherein a perceived decline in civic values and political engagement is intrinsically related to a decline in media standards, and a failure of the fourth estate to fulfil its democratic duty to inform the voting public. This literature sits within broader arguments that there is a crisis in democracy, and that there is a decline in the civic efficacy of citizens. Stephen Macedo and Yvette Alex-Assenoh draw a direct line between citizens no longer being sufficiently involved in civic activities, and the perceived democratic crisis:
234 American democracy is at risk. The risk comes not from some external threat but from disturbing internal trends: an erosion of the activities and capacities of citizenship. Americans have turned away from the politics and the public sphere in large numbers, leaving our civic life impoverished. Citizens participate in public affairs less frequently, with less knowledge and enthusiasm, in fewer venues, and less equally than is healthy for a vibrant democratic polity (Macedo and Alex-Assensoh 2005: 1).
Similarly, Theda Skocpol is nostalgic for an America of “joiners, organizers and citizens”, lamenting the loss of associations, institutions and the tradition of public meetings, which she regards as being key factors in a “diminished democracy” (Skocpol 2003). Robert Putnam focusses on the role of citizens in causing this institutional decline, looking to a downturn in membership of bricks and mortar organisations such as community groups and political parties to demonstrate his theory of declining social capital (Putnam 2000). In Australia, one-time research assistant to Putnam and federal Labor MP Andrew Leigh also links a lack of participation in civic institutions with citizen disengagement from politics and a decline in democracy (Leigh 2010). Nina Eliasoph finds that a reluctance to talk about politics, or for citizens to self-identify as people who care about politics, has bred apathy and led to “the evaporation of politics in the US public sphere” (Eliasoph 1998: 230-263), although she does identify a paradox in that many citizens who do not regard themselves as “political” are nonetheless using democratic principles and discourses to describe their behaviour, especially at the level of community activism (ibid: 4-6).
However, these crisis narratives must be kept in cultural and historical perspective. Fears for the health of democracy are almost as old as democracy itself. Pippa Norris, for example, cautions that the “‘crisis’ myth, while fashionable, exaggerates the extent of political disaffection and too often falls into the dangers of fact-free hyperbole” (Norris 2011: 241). Stromberg provides a reminder that democracy has always been vulnerable to accusations of crisis, and “has been prematurely pronounced dead […] innumerable times, indeed in almost every decade since the 1790s” (Stromberg 1996: 164). Politicians have been
235 regarded as self-serving and morally dubious for centuries: “politician” was used pejoratively by Shakespeare, for example (Hay 2007: 6-7). Bernard Crick points out that Plato regarded democracy as “opinion over knowledge”, and “demos” or “the people”, Plato saw as an inconsistent and self-interested group. Crick also notes that John Stuart Mill believed that people should get the vote only after they had been educated to a sufficient degree, and that early conceptions of “the people” as a democratic force were of a vengeful, ignorant mob (Crick 2002: 1, 10-11, 16). Russell Hanson reminds that up until the mid-nineteenth century “democracy was regarded as a dangerous and unstable form of politics” (Hanson 1989: 68). Andrew Vandenberg frames the combined ideas of democracy and citizenship as being part of a “grand narrative” which seeks to underpin basic notions about representation and the function of the nation-state, but he is careful to position this as part of a “long journey from the English Civil War to the Second World War”, by which time these dual notions were universally desirable, yet still not universally agreed upon (Vandenberg 2000: 6).
Overall, for a political system that is frequently held up as a universal ideal, there is very little consensus around the concept of democracy. Rather, the ways that democracy is framed and regarded changes according to political and historical positions and agendas. The same can be said for ideas around citizenship, with behaviours thought to characterise good and bad citizenship being changeable and unfixed. This historical and cultural fluidity positions both democracy and citizenship as “essentially contested concepts”, as discussed in Chapter Two (Gallie 1955). William Connolly argues that such concepts “are bounded by normative considerations”, and depend on culturally dominant ideas which are transient, and often hard to describe or define (Connolly 1983: 29). Vandenberg adds a moral dimension: that a central component of essentially contested concepts is that they come with an idea of what “ought” to be (Vandenberg 2000: 4). When considering citizenship, notions of moral responsibility are particularly variable, and yet are frequently applied to human behaviour and civic activity in ways that are highly proscriptive and morally-charged.
If one holds that these core ideas of democracy and citizenship are essentially contested concepts, it becomes more difficult to pass absolutist judgements about
236 their relative value, and make declarative statements about whether democracy is being properly conducted, or citizenship is being inadequately performed. Further, such a view protects, to an extent, from “objectivism” as warned of by Hanson, who cautions that any attempt to develop a view that fails to recognise one’s own historical context and bias is inherently problematic (Hanson 1985: 4). Quentin Skinner goes further, stating that “There are no moral or cognitive judgements which are not mediated by our concepts, and it seems to me that even our most apparently abstract concepts are historical through and through” (Skinner 2002: 177). And it is not just recognition that ideas around democracy and citizenship are historically located, they are also bound up in expectations and norms which are culturally specific. Even within a single democracy and at a single point in time, different people bring with them different perspectives on what constitutes good or active citizenship, and what is required for a healthy democracy.
The view that notions of decline or crisis in democracy lack historical memory was shared by a practitioner interviewed for this research. Having worked in Australian politics since the 1980s, he observed that concerns about the state of democracy are perennial but ultimately unjustified:
Do you think Billy McMahon was good? Or the crisis of the Fraser era? I mean, come on […] I remember the same people saying the same shit for thirty years. It’s just different colours and flavours. And every generation, having forgotten the history of the last generation, convinces themselves because they have a special problem. Well they’re not special. These problems are shared across the world, and the best way to fix democracy is to use the self-adjusting mechanisms available to you, to vote for a better member (PP-LIB-14).
This statement reveals not just a desire to place crisis narratives within historical perspective, it also demonstrates a belief that citizens themselves can be the best weapons against political and democratic upheaval.
Changing ideas of citizenship and engagement
237 Literature that deals with the crisis of democracy often positions citizens and their behaviour as a central factor in democratic decline. This, in turn, is bound up in normative ideals of citizenship that are inherently linked to civic participation. Seymour Lipset expressed this in 1960: “Lack of participation and representation […] reflects lack of effective citizenship and consequent lack of loyalty to the system as a whole” (Lipset 1960: 227). Traditional ideas of citizenship also emphasise it as something that is conducted collectively, and in public. John Dewey expressed this concept using parallel binaries, comparing the public/private split to the collective/individual (Dewey 1927: 2). According to the normative standards, the “good citizen” is dutifully engaged alongside other good citizens in civic life that is characterised by open and well-informed debate.
The ideal notion of a democratically accessible civic space that encourages political discussion and engagement is exemplified by the public sphere, described by Jürgen Habermas in 1962. For the early Habermas, the public sphere is a civic institution for critically engaged deliberation, in which informed citizens can argue civic matters according to agreed-upon codes (Habermas 1989: 27). Habermas does not include a party model in this construction: these ideal citizens most resemble the classic notion of the independent voter. A free and unimpeded public sphere, populated by informed and responsible citizens, is an essential component of functioning democracies. While the public sphere can often be “unruly”, it also provides the bedrock for democratic process (Habermas 2006: 417). Habermas himself argues that the capacity of citizens to contribute adequately to the deliberation required for a functioning public sphere is in decline, as citizens become more apathetic, “expecting to be provided for without wanting to fight for the necessary decisions” and are less well informed (Habermas 1989: 211; 213-214). The dominant, panic-fuelling notion that political engagement is in decline across developed democracies is rooted in a perception that there are established democratic ideals of engaged public deliberation for common good, from which contemporary society is drifting away.
The recognition that merely blaming citizens for problems with democracy is vastly limited and overly simplistic has engendered a substantial scholarship. Scholars tend to explore two lines of argument, which do not exclude each other.
238 First, some consider the structural issues that affect citizens’ desire or capacity to engage politically, and look for situations and environments within these structures that discourage citizen engagement. For example, the influence of neoliberalism on policy making has, in several western democracies including Australia, led to the privatisation of government services, and this can create an impression amongst voters that governments are inefficient or unnecessary (Hay 2007: 5). Second, scholars are seeking to expand the types of citizen behaviours and activities that can be reasonably regarded as “political”, often to include informal political behaviours, or as Raia Prokhovnik puts it, “what people actually do” (Prokhovnik 1998: 95). If one reconsiders what constitutes political engagement to include a wider set of behaviours and activities, then the fundamental premise that citizen engagement is in decline is called into question, as well as the notion that citizen disengagement is a critical factor in a crisis in democracy.
The idea of what constitutes “politics” was not questioned by the majority of practitioners, with the exception of a political practitioner from the Greens who said that gauging levels of citizen interest in politics “depends on what you call politics”:
The things that we call politics generally are essentially tactical games in parliaments and the media. I don’t think that is politics, for most people. Politics is about how their lives work, what happens to them at work, what happens to them in their communities […] it’s all about local stuff and this is what real ordinary people are about […] people are really interested in that stuff, and people are very interested in taking control of their lives (PP-GRE-13).
Behind the reframing of what might constitute “politics” is, firstly, an objective to expand notions of what democratic citizens and behaviour entails more broadly: “the field of democracy is in the process of addition, not subtraction. That is to say, in our expanding notion of the political” (Dahlgren 2009: 142). There is an endeavour in this literature to frame any problems with democracy or democratic practices not with denigration of an undecided, apathetic or ignorant public, but
239 rather to look to systems that the public operate within, or to attitudes and definitions around engagement that limit or proscribe citizens’ behaviour.
Citizenship and politics are not uncontested, unchanging concepts, and “Politics is culture, too” (Schudson 1999: 30). As cultural trends emerge and evolve, so are norms of citizenship changing. However, this change need not be interpreted as a decline, nor a drop in the standards of citizen behaviour. There are a number of broad socio-economic and cultural shifts that continue to redefine modes of political participation. A move to post-materialism, where citizens are concerned less with economic aspects of politics and more with issues pertaining to identity, environment and society, is redefining political concerns and contests (Inglehart 1981, 2006, 1971). Similarly, a shift that comes from second-wave feminism and the rise of identity politics in the 1980s and 1990s, to regard personal or everyday acts as being political, has contributed to a wider redefinition of what counts as politics (Bennett 1998: 755; Hartley 1996: 58). This emphasises the lived experience of politics (O'Toole et al. 2003: 53), as well as what counts as public and as private (Couldry, Livingstone and Markham 2007; Levine 2011). There are calls to recognise notions of citizenship as being gendered (Prokhovnik 1998), influenced by race (Paul 1997) and disability (Meekosha and Dowse 1997). Some scholars frame these changes in generational terms (O'Toole et al. 2003; O'Toole, Marsh and Jones 2003; Fyfe 2009; Vromen 2003; Collin 2008; Harris, Wyn and Younes 2010). Hank Vinken, for example, argues that “New generations will invent new forms of citizenship […] the world has changed and so have the ways in which citizens pursue and express their involvement in the public sphere” (Vinken 2005: 148-149).
These changes speak to a shift in what is being regarded as legitimate citizenship, from what Russell Dalton describes as “duty-based” to an “engaged” citizenship. For Dalton, “duty-based” citizenship involves traditional behaviours such as the paying of taxes and the membership of institutions, as opposed to “engaged citizenship”, which emphasises “a more assertive role for the citizen and a broader definition of the elements of citizenship to include social concerns and the welfare of others” (Dalton 2009a: 5-6). All of these re-conceptions of citizenship emphasise individual behaviour as central in expressing “good” citizenship, and
240 addressing concerns around democratic health. But systemic problems also play an important role; the way that politics is conducted across many developed democracies is strongly implicated in a view that democracy is in decline. Rather than looking to citizen behaviour as a root cause, the problem is with the “supply” side; political methods and leaders that are deeply unpopular and have engendered a profound mistrust with the populace (Hay 2007: 24), which has become so alienated from deliberative processes that many citizens no longer believe their input is important (Stoker 2009: 86-87). These two factors – the individual and the systemic – are inherently bound: citizens act within, and are affected by, the societies and structures within which they live, but they also have the agency and capacity to behave in ways that aren’t normatively proscribed. This is a conception of the problems with democracy that looks beyond citizen deficiency and allow citizens a degree of agency which challenge the disengaged and apathetic stereotypes of voters, especially those who are undecided.
Gerry Stoker attributes a decline in engagement to several factors: a shift away from collective decision-making and towards an individualist, consumer-based approach to public life; a drop in the membership of civic organisations and political parties; a media that is failing to provide information of sufficient quality; and a negative public perception of politicians and political processes. In seeking a solution that could re-engage the populace with politics, Stoker argues for institutional reform that can harness and reinvigorate the levels of engagement he believes currently exist. However, the “problem” with this is to figure out “how to construct a political system to cope with the kind of engagement people want and to enable the political system to be both sustainable and effective” (ibid: 102). He calls for the development of institutions and practices that encourage a “politics for amateurs”, or a means of involving those who are not political elites or experts (ibid: 149-162). While this argument recognises that politics is a broad realm and not the exclusive domain of professionals, Stoker’s top-down approach does not consider that effective political communities might exist outside of formal political structures. Moreover, his acceptance of traditional benchmarks for political behaviours does not allow for a changing political environment where informal behaviours are increasingly being recognised as important.
241 Similarly, Colin Hay seeks explanations for citizen disengagement that are more profound than a fondness for television or a distaste for union meetings. He identifies a hegemonic shift in the way that politics is considered. Blaming the rise of neoliberalist influenced policies that privilege the private over the public, as well as the cynicism and lack of trust that the marketisation of political campaigning has engendered, Hay argues that the entire idea of “politics” has been gravely compromised: “In recent years, the term ‘politics’ has become synonymous, for many, with notions of duplicity, corruption, dogmatism, inefficiency, undue interference in essentially private matters, and a lack of transparency in decision making” (Hay 2007: 4-5). Members of the political class have, for Hay, been entirely complicit in the construction of this image, and must wear significant blame for any damage to democracy (ibid: 93). Hay proposes that, faced with an unappealing political environment, the voter simply disengages (ibid: 91).
Hay recognises that Britons are voting in ever-declining numbers, and that all of the traditional indicators of political participation, including membership of political and civic organisations, are down. But he does not confine his requirements for active citizenship only to traditional activities, observing that this decline has been matched by an increase in things like the expression of political views in the media and the boycotting of products (ibid: 23-27; 73-75). He concludes with an argument which encompasses a variety of ways of participating in civic life:
[…] if politics is to be understood in a rather more inclusive way, it becomes far more difficult to explain the exhibited decline in formal political participation in terms of voter apathy – since there is plenty of other evidence that citizens continue to behave politically whilst bypassing conventional/formal channels of political expression (ibid: 24).
Hay’s analysis provides the space both for a recognition of socio-political changes that have brought about a degree of collective citizen disengagement, and also an awareness that other changes, especially technological, have allowed for less traditional forms of political participation, that are often expressed in individual
242 ways. While Hay is writing in regard to the UK, the same argument can be made in the Australian context, where there has been a similar shift towards neoliberal policies which has seen ownership of much infrastructure and public service privatised, and which some, such as Laura Tingle, argue is devaluing the role of government among voters. Tingle argues that these factors contribute to Australian voters’ deep dislike of government:
Government is rarely portrayed in any of our conversations as a force for good. More often it is seen as amorphous, badly run and ill-defined, the plaything of politicians that is separate from us (Tingle 2012: 8).
For Tingle, this dislike citizens have for their government has to do with disappointment: the public expects that the government and its representatives will function and perform according to a set of benchmarks, and when they fail to do so, “our expectations and our sense of entitlement are confused and this makes us angry” (ibid: 8). It is this anger, which for Tingle reflects a rather bratty sense of material entitlement that the electorate has been trained in by a succession of pandering politicians, which is causing people to become disenchanted with politics.
In associating citizen disengagement with the notions of expectation and disappointment, Tingle aligns herself with Norris and the theory of “democratic deficit”, which describes the gap between citizens’ expectations of the performance of democracy with their satisfaction with it (Norris 2011). Norris builds this idea on her earlier concept of “critical citizens” – those who regard democracy as the ideal form of government but are still sceptical of the way it functions in their own country (Norris 1999). Norris does not see this scepticism as a failure of citizenship; rather, for her it reflects a genuine concern that the administration of democracy falls short of a standard that might be reasonably expected. As citizens are generally capable of recognising this, it leads to disaffection and a lack of trust in government and politicians (Norris 2011: 237). For Norris, if there is a failure, it is a systemic failure to provide democracies that are worthy of trust, faith and admiration, not a failure of voters to behave “properly” within these systems.
243
The idea that the failure is with the system rather than with the voters is held not only by those who study the system, but also by those who are part of its creation. Even while several political practitioners identified voters who know almost nothing about the political systems under which they live (PP-ALP-04, PP-LIB- 10, PP-ALP-15, PP-ALP-16), none of them disparaged voters for their ignorance. Rather, there was a tendency among practitioners to regard the nature of politics as the most likely cause of dysfunction:
I think the reason it’s become a bit of a sideshow is that people who are in it are treating it as such […] the politicians and the people who are advising them. It’s their job to get out there and convince people in any manner of ways of the rightness or correctness of what it is they’re trying to do, right? And I think nowadays what we’re suffering is a lack of quality practitioners (PP-LIB-12);
[Voters] don’t tune into day-to-day politics…But people mistake that and think, oh these people are really ignorant. But why would you tune into politics these days? (PP-ALP-07);
The worst thing you can do is start blaming the electorate. It’s like a car dealer saying you’re all fuckwits for not buying my car. No, fix the car (PP-LIB-14).
Challenging norms of political engagement
The arguments around citizenship and political engagement are constantly challenged by a question about which there has never been agreement: who is ultimately to decide where the line between good and indifferent citizenship lies? Is there any objective measure for what behaviours create a “better citizen”? As Dalton argues, “there is little consensus on how much participation, and in what forms, is beneficial for democracy” (Dalton 2009a: 22-23). Even one of the great normative benchmarks of participation, membership of a political party, does not necessarily denote an active engagement with civic life, as the majority of party
244 members in Australia are not active participants and never or rarely attend meetings (Gauja 2012: 169-170). Nor is there scholarly consensus that political engagement is a good or even a desirable quality. Morris Fiorina questions “participatory democracy” on the grounds that it privileges organised voices and politically-motivated interest groups over ordinary citizens, most of whom don’t want to be too involved with politics (Fiorina 1999: 406, 408). John Hibbing and Elizabeth Theiss-Moore argue that Americans like to know there are democratic avenues available to them, but in general they are happy leading their own, private, non-political lives (Hibbing and Theiss-Morse 2002). However, Fiorina fails to allow for non-formal political forums that allow for the participation of the less vocal or well organised, and Hibbing and Theiss-Moore’s argument assumes a passivity among citizens, as well as a trust in government, which is contradicted by the recent anti-government populist surges in many developed democracies including the US.
While political participation is “a contested term” (Fyfe 2009: 38), this does not imply that it is not considered broadly desirable by the majority of scholars; rather, the contest refers to an idea that there is no one set of approved behaviours that constitute acceptable means of citizenship, and that a variety of often non- traditional forms need to be included. In Australia, for example, there may have been a decline in membership of traditional organisations such as political parties and trade unions, but citizen involvement with environmental and social justice groups has increased (Vromen 2012). In the United States and elsewhere, scholars are looking to volunteerism and community work as signs of engagement (Zukin 2006). Lance Bennett argues that there has not so much been a “decline in citizen engagement”, as “a shift away from old forms that is complemented by the emergence of new forms of political interest and engagement” (Bennett 1998: 744). Many of these non-traditional forms of participation reflect a movement away from a notion of civic behaviour being public and collective, towards a model which allows for acts of participation and engagement to occur by individuals in private spaces. Russell Dalton argues that this has the effect of individualising the nature of citizen engagement: “Instead of depending on party elites and reference groups, more citizens now deal with the complexities of politics and make their own political decisions” (Dalton 2000: 932).
245
On an individual level, conversing about politics with other citizens is one of the most commonly pursued informal political activities (Coleman 2005: 11). The Voter Survey found that talking about politics emerged as a dominant predictor variable as to which voter group a respondent would belong, with those more inclined to talk about politics also more likely to fall into the Partisan, Switcher or Assessor groups (Ch 4: Figs 4.26, 4.27, 4.28), and with almost one in three voters overall reporting they were more likely to discuss politics during election campaigns (Ch 4: Fig 4.12). The relationship between talking about politics and being an engaged citizen, as measured by traditional standards, is well established (Mutz 1989; Horan 1971; Scheufele 2002: 46; Kim, Wyatt and Katz 1999). Holding a conversation about politics is regarded by many as a definite political act (Gamson 1992, 1988), with media such as news bulletins often functioning as starting points and frames for such conversations (Gamson 1998). Kim, Wyatt and Katz argue that conversations about politics are private and held in domestic settings, often because they are in response to a media broadcast. However, these conversations serve a function that transcends the private sphere: they are “the soul of democracy, and […] talk about public concerns conducted in private, even among family and friends, has political consequences” (Wyatt, Katz and Kim 2000: 88). The shift from private to public that conversation allows is also noted by Michael McKuen, who makes the case that the act of speaking itself engenders participation, as political conversations shift political thought from the subconscious and passive into the active and public (McKuen 1990: 63). All of these views seek to recognise the most basic form of political communication as an act of participation and engagement.
However, informal discussion about politics does not need to be an act conducted by individuals in mostly private spaces. Looking at the ways that individual behaviours interact with broader political systems and structures, Stephen Coleman builds an argument for a “conversational democracy” as a means to bridge what he sees as a growing gap between the electorate and its elected representatives. This conversation, ideally, is between politicians and citizens, and can be direct or mediated. Coleman’s starting point is a recognition that citizens
246 talk politics amongst themselves, but these conversations are rarely communicated to the political elite. This, for Coleman, creates a problem:
It is as if there are two democracies: one operating informally and conversationally in homes, work-places, pubs and streets, and another deliberating on behalf of everyone else in parliaments, councils and government departments (Coleman 2005: 11).
Coleman’s thesis recognises not only that conversations in themselves are political and potentially powerful, but also that in order for them to have effect they need to be communicated to those who hold political power. This notion is echoed by Dahlgren, who regards conversation between citizens as important, but argues that they have “relatively less bearing on politics when compared to the massive presence of the media” (Dahlgren 2009: 53-54). However, Dahlgren’s model is based on a notion of media that does not include social media, which enable citizens to connect with others, and amplifies individual voices.
In the scholarship around political engagement, media are often implicated. The relationship between the consumption of news and political participation is well established (McCombs et al. 2011: 153; Norris 2000; Scheufele 2002). The centrality of media to contemporary western citizens’ experience of politics was demonstrated in Chapter Seven. This is not just in terms of the ways that people learn about politics, but also the way they conduct it. Media function as places where people can perform political activities, and media-based communities can be places where political participation occurs. This view reflects an increasingly mediatised political environment, and an electorate more accustomed to an environment involving many more media sources and outputs, and possessing a greater sophistication in reading and decoding media messages. A mediatised society affords knowledge of and access to a multiplicity of ways of expressing culture, identity and politics itself, allowing for a concept of citizenship that is less rigid and more multi-dimensional than that traditionally held. John Hartley terms this “DIY citizenship”, arguing that media provide the training ground for the new norms (Hartley 1999: 178).
247 Although notions of citizenship and political engagement have shifted away from institutions and towards a model based more on individual behaviour, media allow for these individual behaviours to become collective. Communities of citizens form online (Highfield 2016; Bruns 2013), as well as around broadcast media programs (Couldry, Livingstone and Markham 2007; Coleman 2006). These communities and their loci are not abstract or even ephemeral: they have a special dimension, and are increasingly a series of locations. Dahlgren argues that this space “involves more than simple geography”; it also contains:
[…] a theoretic dimension in a world where space can be constituted by communication processes that may be quite indifferent to place. We sometimes say that politics ‘takes place’ in the media, on television, in the press, and so on, but in fact we are referring to a communicative space shaped by these media (Dahlgren 2009: 151, italics original).
To think about media as a theoretical space which can be inhabited is central to an understanding of media as a site of political engagement and activity. The advent of the internet, with its demand that the notion of inhabited space be reconfigured to accommodate the non-corporeal and the virtual, has in turn affected the ways in which the public sphere, political engagement and political behaviour are understood: they now must include mediated spaces. Media provide “a new public sphere […] a reality in itself” (Vinken 2005: 149). It would be a mistake, however, to regard the mediatisation of the public sphere as being the result of digitisation. While the internet has provided places for citizens to meet and interact, legacy media provide a similar function, albeit without the interactivity. Experiences shared by large communities through mass media, such as sporting matches or royal weddings, foster connections that, while initially experienced through media, generate in-person interactions. Nor does the mediatisation of common experiences need to involve major events. A media practitioner spoke of a sense of community that is derived simply from the knowledge that others are currently sharing a similar experience:
There are moments when you feel that, wow, Australians in big cities, in small towns, you know, are listening in their car, listening in their tractor,
248 it’s kind of that sense of all around the country there is this tune-in, so in a way [the gathering] is quite a literal thing (MP-10).
This same practitioner regarded media organisations, especially public broadcasters, as providing the spaces for community interaction and argument, describing the platforms provided by his own organisation in explicitly Habermasian terms:
Our role is not to have a point of view ourselves but to create the forum, create the space, create the town square, where people can come and speak and be heard, where people can come and listen (MP-10).
The functionality of media as a public sphere, providing spaces and catalysts for conversation about civic matters, was empirically tested by Nick Couldry and his colleagues in 2007 in a study that, despite being limited by a very small sample group, has been extremely influential. Positioning themselves explicitly within the “crisis of democracy” debate, they consider the question: “What if, instead of declining, political orientation is simply taking new, more dispersed forms?” (Couldry, Livingstone and Markham 2007: 16). They apply their attention specifically to media influence: “In contemporary large-scale democracies, it would be absurd to ignore media’s potential contribution to democracy as both information sources and foci of public attention and orientation” (ibid: 37). They find that most people’s media consumption is profoundly habitual, and reflective of political behaviour more broadly, with people who are interested in political media more likely to vote, and others less likely to (ibid: 109). In collecting empirical evidence that explicitly links media habits with political behaviour, Couldry positions mass media as a conduit between the public and the private worlds. This, in turn, facilitates the association between the mediated and the political experience (ibid: 28). Couldry recognises that citizens share a connection that is mediated, and that shared media experience creates a public sphere in which political experiences can and do occur (ibid: 181).
Media provide non-elite citizens with inclusive and non-discriminatory forums in which to engage in political behaviour and interaction. Like Couldry, Coleman
249 positions media as virtual public spheres – and contemporary democracy’s primary places of political debate and discussion – arguing that “the mass media and their increasingly interactive audiences are the closest we have at the moment to such a place for public reflection” (Coleman 2006: 460). Interactive television voting tools and conversations about mediated experiences provide access to a public sphere that is neither elitist nor exclusive (ibid: 463), and media have the potential to provide the public with more opportunities to feed back into the political process (ibid: 476-477). The accessibility of media makes them sites for citizens of all levels of political sophistication, from the Assessors and Switchers who favour the public broadcasters, to the Uninteresteds, with their preference for entertainment.
The ABC panel debate and discussion program Q&A encourages participation by its audience in a more directly political context. The program’s core purpose is to enable exchanges between “ordinary people” and politicians and other elites: in- studio audience members direct questions to a panel comprised of public figures including current and former parliamentary representatives. Q&A attracts consistently high ratings, and is augmented by a lively Twitter feed in which viewers argue, comment and ask questions of panellists, (although questions asked over Twitter are infrequently utilised in the studio). It is commonly assumed that the format of Q&A was directly adapted from the BBC program Question Time. While he does not deny the similarities between the two programs, its creator and producer says he was more influenced by British websites such as www.theyworkforyou.com and www.fixmystreet.com (MP-05), websites that were designed to facilitate direct interaction between politicians and citizens, giving ordinary people a platform through which to ask questions and make demands. This practitioner’s hope was that the amplifying effect of television would make the politicians especially accountable, and that questions asked by members of the studio audience would reflect those of the wider community: “What interested me was the idea that people should have more opportunity to hold their politicians to account, to question them, and to put them on the spot” (MP-05).
250 As Q&A sought to cultivate audience engagement, it established and encouraged a social media presence from its inception in 2008. However, it wasn’t until 2009, when producers developed software enabling tweets to be incorporated on-screen during the live broadcast, that Twitter became a vital component of the program: an episode of Q&A can generate up to 50,000 tweets. As a practitioner involved with the commissioning of the program said, watching the show while being on Twitter is “a leaned forward, engaged activity” (MP-10). Q&A was mentioned by a number of the political practitioners interviewed for this thesis, although those from the Labor Party and the Greens were more enthusiastic about its benefit than those from the Coalition, who were more likely to disparage it, or not see it as a media source worth targeting (PP-LIB-14, PP-LIB-10). One Labor practitioner spoke of the program’s increasing influence:
The tweeting thing with Q&A is a great example of open democratic discussion. Which I thought was completely a load of rubbish when I first saw it […] distracting rubbish and it’s going to be a bunch of nutters. But it has actually become a bit of an institution within Australian democracy (PP-ALP-02).
However, Q&A remains a platform for citizens who are more politically engaged. Its executive producer commented that “the people who want to come along and be part of the program are people who are more interested in politics than the average person” (MP-07).
The Voter Survey also found that regular watchers of Q&A were more politically engaged, and more likely to be from the Switcher, Assessor or Partisan voter groups. They were more likely to talk about politics with their friends and family (Ch 4, Table 4.5; Figs 4.26, 4.27, 4.28), suggesting not only a strong correlation between an interest in politics and the consumption of political media, but also suggesting that a citizen’s media habits can be used as a predictor for a person’s political behaviours and attitudes. This idea has support from Sally Young, who argues that media are central facets in the ways that Australians make political decisions, and therefore are integral to the way citizens become involved in and learn about politics: “I now propose a different way of measuring political interest
251 that reflects on actual behaviour by analysing audiences for political news” (Young 2011: 16). Young creates a theoretical model whereby the media that a person consumes is not just an indication of their likelihood to hold certain civic attitudes and behave in certain political ways, but becomes an integral part of their real-life political engagement.
Online activism and political activity
The interactivity of the internet has provided more opportunities for media to be used as places of political activity. However, like all digitally mediated forms of political engagement, online activism is evolving with technological advances, and cultural norms are changing in response. A citizen could well eschew party membership, but be part of a large online community which engages indirectly with politics by posting on forums and interacting with others in the community; or directly by lobbying. The internet enables non-political actors to influence political outcomes (Couldry 2012: 120, 126; McKee 2005: 172), and provides citizens with “social agency” in online communities (Dahlgren 2009: 149). Online activist campaigns enable individual citizens to wield their collective ability and influence political decisions or processes, thereby accessing power and agency (Turk 2013; Shirky 2011; Gustafsson and Breindl 2010), and online petitions and consumer activism such as product or company boycotts are acts of political participation (Vinken 2005: 150; Schudson 2007: 240). James Stanyer calls this sort of participation “non-traditional individualistic political repertoires” (Stanyer 2007: 166), while Michele Micheletti uses the term “individualised collective action” (Micheletti 2003). These frameworks emphasise behaviours that are independent of any formal grouping, although often petitions and consumer movements are often part of larger campaigns and associated with a formal entity such as a human rights group.
That online media can be sites for political interaction, participation and activism is demonstrated by the proliferation of activist organisations that exist almost entirely online, with members encouraged to petition and lobby political figures and donate to causes, in service of campaigns that most often relate to social justice issues. These organisations include MoveOn.org (US) and, in Australia,
252 GetUp!, which describes itself as an “independent movement to build a progressive Australia and bring participation back into our democracy” (GetUp! 2016). In their examination of the organisation, Ariadne Vromen and William Coleman use GetUp! as a case study of how new technology has affected not just the way that citizens of a civil society can mobilise, but also the way the whole notion of participation needs to be theorised (Vromen and Coleman 2011: 76). They argue that the rise in online political activism has seen a shift in the way that participation is conceived, “away from dutiful engagement with traditional political institutions to an alternative issues-based politics” (Vromen and Coleman 2011: 77). Online platforms also allow for users with different levels of political sophistication, as they can be either extremely niche and specialised, for example websites containing archives of policy documents; or they can have the mass appeal of mainstream social media sites.
However, as the internet evolves, it is becoming less anarchic and unregulated, and more controlled by corporations, raising concerns about privacy, data security, and the safety of using online platforms for political agitation and activism (Livingstone 2005: 10; Bell and Taylor 2017: 17). Other problems with the use of online platforms for political behaviour are to do with control and access. Vromen argues that political websites suffer from a “top-down” approach, whereby institutions employ their websites not as interactive, participatory spaces, but as didactic platforms in which “real-world” events are advertised, information provided and producers and experts convey one-way opinions (Vromen 2011: 975), although social media could change this (Vromen 2011: 977). Nils Gustafsson and Yana Breindl formulate a concept of a “temporal elite” of online activists, who seek to influence a wide field of less-engaged “spectators”, and whose methods and effects are unpredictable (Gustafsson and Breindl 2010: 195- 198). These temporal elites have more success in mobilising those who are already interested, recalling Norris’ “digital divide” (Norris 2001). What all of these studies and arguments have in common is a recognition that, currently, online political platforms still struggle to engage citizens beyond those who are already very active.
253 That the internet and digital media have emerged as places from where citizens can inform themselves and access information is expressed by several practitioners (PP-LIB-12, MP-03, MP-01, MP-07): “I think that people can be better informed now, there’s more people who can do their own research” (MP- 02). However, when it came to the capacity of online activism to bring about real social change, something of a generational divide emerged. One harked back to his own youth, suggesting that the street protests he once engaged with were more effective than online activism:
I think there’s a danger in “liketivism” or whatever it is, people who can like something and then think they’ve done something. I mean, I protested at uni. Go and rock up (MP-07);
Another practitioner emphasised the fickleness of online activism and those who engage in it:
It’s slacktivism. It’s just a click that doesn't result in anything else. And if there’s a graph of involvement, it’s “I heard something, I want to be popular, I want to be part of it, I’ll click here. I’m a bit more outraged, and the graph is pointing up a bit, and then it’s I just heard a bit more and I’m a bit more upset, the next stage, I just heard something that conflicts slightly, I'm a bit confused, next stage is oh shit, actually there’s a bit more evidence, whatever, and the next thought is Oh shit, X-Factor’s on, I’m over” (PP-LIB-10).
However, a younger practitioner had a different view. For her, online activity is a vital and central way that young people express political engagement and gather political information. However online political behaviour those who criticise young people for their perceived political apathy are not part of this activity, and so do not recognise it:
I think they are using old measurement tools to look at a new phenomenon. Protests aren’t happening […but] if you look at the way that
254 people are engaging with political information, that is happening online (MP-04).
Challenging norms of political knowledge
As well as declining citizen engagement, fears that democracy is imperilled also focus on the perceived ignorance of citizens. As has been argued throughout this thesis, these fears find particularly fertile ground if the stereotype of undecided voters as ignorant and disengaged is accepted. It has been shown how concepts of good citizenship are built around notions of participation, engagement and awareness about politics, and it is firmly established in scholarly literature that a citizen with high levels of political participation and engagement will also accrue a high amount of political knowledge (Bennett 1998; Campbell 1960; Converse 1962; Couldry, Livingstone and Markham 2007; Dahlgren 2009; Delli Carpini and Keeter 1996; Norris 2000; Zaller 1992). In the US and the UK, there is a body of research demonstrating the relationship between media consumption and voter turnout, with those who consume more political content being more likely to vote (Kennamer 1987: 291; Chaffee and Kanihan 1997: 422; Iyengar and Simon 2000: 155; Franklin 1994). Even though compulsory voting renders these sorts of studies redundant, scholars in Australia have also established a connection between the consumption of news and increased political knowledge and participation (Young 2011; Simons 2007; Vromen 1995).
However, as with political engagement, when considering political knowledge, the issue of how much is sufficient, and what forms are acceptable, once again emerges. It is impossible to determine an agreed-upon benchmark of political knowledge, below which citizens cease to function effectively; or to nominate universally acceptable ways that this knowledge might be received. As Michael Delli Carpini and Scott Keeter put it, “no standard measure of general political knowledge exists” (Delli Carpini and Keeter 1992: 21). It is unreasonable and unrealistic to expect all citizens be in possession of comprehensive and constantly updated knowledge of political systems, structures, events and people. This is not
255 to suggest that citizens with no knowledge of political systems or candidates can vote with authority, nor is it to negate the fact that poorly informed citizens are more susceptible to misinformation and propaganda (Delli Carpini and Keeter 1996: 238; Zaller 1992: 218; Converse 1962: 140-141). However, as thinking about how political knowledge is framed, tested, and possessed changes, then less well-informed citizens can still be regarded as effective political agents.
Political knowledge is often measured with questions about civic structures and practices: for example, the Australian Election Study (AES) asks its participants “true or false” questions like “No-one may stand for federal parliament unless they pay a deposit [true or false]?” (McAllister 2011: 58). Citizens typically perform poorly in these tests, and when confronted with statistics showing poor knowledge of civic structures, it is frequently concluded that citizens are ignorant of politics (McAllister 1998; Bennett 1989; Neuman 1986). However, a more dynamic model of political knowledge, emphasising current events, and positioning media as the primary providers of political information, is increasingly being adopted by scholars who regard it as more inclusive and representative of citizens’ understanding of politics (Norris 2000, 2011; Vromen 2003; Popkin 1991; Aarts and Semetko 2003). Adopting a model of political knowledge that is more reflective of the behaviour, concerns and conversations of citizens goes some way towards reconfiguring how “good” citizenship is measured and regarded.
Like the attempts to expand definitions of political participation, it is necessary to consider political knowledge in a way that is stripped of idealism around citizenship, and is compatible with people’s actual behaviour. Scholars have attempted this in a variety of ways. Anthony Downs laid the foundations for an enduring notion that rational citizens require only limited information, by applying a cost-benefit analysis to the act of voting: “In an uncertain world, rational decision-makers acquire only a limited amount of information before making choices” (Downs 1957: 207). Further, Downs holds that citizens do not always need to seek out information actively. Instead, he argues that “by-product learning” ensures that they encounter it in the course of everyday living, both explicitly from news reports they accidently consume, and indirectly, when
256 information that is not specifically political can nevertheless be applied to political situations and decisions (Downs 1957: 223). Fiorina puts this more poetically, writing that “Just as exposed portions of the skin get tanned by the sun when people walk around out of doors, so people become informed as they go about their daily business” (Fiorina 1990: 338).
The idea that citizens pick up cues from a variety of sources including media and people they know is held by many scholars (Page and Shapiro 1992; McKelvey and Ordeshook 1986; Wittman 1989; Delli Carpini and Keeter 1996). Building on Downs, Samuel Popkin develops the notion of “low-information rationality”, relying on “informational shortcuts”, which also draws on classic voter studies and cognitive psychology (Popkin 1991: 9). Popkin frames this as a more realistic interpretation of the type of information that people draw on in order to form their political opinions:
“gut” reasoning best describes the kind of practical thinking about government and politics in which people actually engage […] People use shortcuts which incorporate much political information; they triangulate and validate their opinions in conversations with people they trust and according to the opinions of national figures whose judgements and positions they have come to know (Popkin 1991: 7).
Many different types of informational shortcuts are employed by voters, with one of the most commonly-utilised being partisanship, or whether voters regard themselves as “liberal” or “conservative”. Political predispositions around issues such as partisanship come from complex combinations of life experience, family background, socialisation, and so on (Zaller 1992: 23). Partisanship becomes part of a schema that voters unconsciously use to make judgements about candidates and policies (Miller, Wattenberg and Malanchuk 1986: 523-524). Dalton argues that party allegiance provides a shortcut frequently deployed by voters of low sophistication (Dalton 2013: 4-5), thereby challenging the Lazarsfeldian stereotype that unsophisticated voters are also swingers. Other shortcuts that voters might use to help with their political decisions include finding candidates
257 with similar socio-demographic backgrounds to their own (Cutler 2002), or following the views of media figures (Prior 2007).
Despite being superficial, informational shortcuts as aids to political decision- making are effective. Arthur Lupia provides data demonstrating that the dutiful acquisition of extensive political knowledge makes little difference to final decisions. He demonstrates that voters, when confronted with complicated choices, use “information cues” to “use their limited resources efficiently while influencing electoral outcomes in ways that they would have if they had taken the time and effort necessary to acquire encyclopaedic information (Lupia 1994: 72). Effectively, heuristics can compensate for a lack of political knowledge (Prior 2003). Various metaphors have been employed to express the idea that citizens do not need an encyclopaedic knowledge of politics in order to participate perfectly effectively in the political process: Norris makes the analogy that an understanding of mechanics is not required in order to safely and competently drive a car (Norris 2000: 30-31; 211); and Michael Schudson uses the idea of outsourcing, arguing that all sorts of systems – farms, factories, government regulatory bodies – are relied on to ensure the supply safe food and water, yet citizens are expected to be “political backpackers” and do all the “heavy lifting” of understanding and interpreting the political systems in which they live, on their own (Schudson 2002: 311-312). A revision of the norms of political knowledge to allow for a spectrum of levels among citizens, especially those who are undecided voters, negates the need for disquiet or anxiety associated with the fear that ignorant populations are unduly affecting the outcome of elections. If this revision is reflected in the political messaging that is propagated during election campaigns, this will go further towards quelling anxiety around democratic decline.
Like scholars, political and media practitioners grappled with reconciling idealistic and realistic notions of desirable levels of political knowledge. In general, they favoured a pragmatic approach, which accepted that voters are busy, pressured or distracted, and are unlikely to conform to the highest ideals of citizenship; and that this does not affect the capacity of most to function competently as members of a democracy:
258
I’m sure you’ll have people telling you that they lament the fact that people aren’t paying attention to politics, but, and this will sound strange, but if we were confident enough to elect these people to run the show for us in the first place, then we should have faith in them to run the show. Do I need to know everything that happens in Parliament? Not really. Do I need a 24-hour news cycle to keep telling me that one government department’s having an argument with another one? I don’t need to pay attention to that to participate in democracy (PP-LIB-17);
Most of them [voters] just want the government to be run well, they don’t want to hear about it. It’s like an umpire in a footy game. They don’t want to know it’s there (MP-02);
I don’t believe in taking the high road and saying that everyone should spend at least three hours in the last week of an election and take the time to read all the pamphlets […] I’d like the world more if everyone read the newspaper every day in a critical fashion but they don’t have to, they’re very busy (MP-07);
Ideally, yeah, of course, everyone would be interested in [politics], but you know, realistically, a lot of people have got other stuff to do […] And it’s so incredibly subjective, this measure about what is an appropriate political system and what is not. And the more you talk to politicians you find that the most appropriate political system would be one in which everyone implicitly understood that person’s point of view and opinion and endorsed it. And for journalists the perfect political system would be one in which everyone read their column about superannuation. It’s just not realistic. And I think that it also doesn’t give an enormous amount of credit to busy people who manage to make sometimes quite good decisions about politics despite being not completely immersed in it (MP- 03).
259 Overall, practitioners shared a view that voters are relatively competent at exercising their democratic duties, even if they did not keep diligently up-to-date:
I don’t think that the average voter’s understanding or perception of politics is inherently less sophisticated than the people who follow it all the time, it’s just they’re less up themselves and have got less tickets on themselves (MP-06).
These comments reveal a fundamental trust in the electorate to be able to make broadly acceptable decisions. Further, there is an understanding that the body politic has the capacity to notice and correct problems if they arise. This corrective capacity can be the most important way that time-poor citizens notice and participate in politics. Schudson proposes that citizens have an obligation to pay only passing attention to political events and information: they can be “monitorial citizens [who] scan (rather than read) the informational environment” in much the same way as a parent supervises a child in a swimming pool (Schudson 2002: 310-311). Monitorial citizens should, according to Schudson, pay sufficient attention that they know if something happens in the political arena that is of concern. Media are key in alerting citizens to problems or crises, and major political events force their way into the lives of those who might not pay attention through what Zaller terms media “feeding frenzies”. These, he argues, are “wonderful devices for focussing public attention on issues of importance”, and journalists should be encouraged to enhance the drama of stories in order to capture the public’s attention (Zaller 2003: 121-122). John Keane moves the idea of citizens’’ monitoring their political system from the passive to the active. For Keane, a “monitorial democracy” is characterised by the capacity of citizens, often using networks and connections formed and enabled by online media, to intervene and correct undemocratic practices such as corruption and violation of freedoms (Keane 2009).
The idea that citizens are not necessarily poring over the detail of every policy, or might not even be following day-to-day politics, yet are attuned enough to notice when something concerning happens that is likely to affect them, was expressed by practitioners. Big political upsets like leadership challenges and spills are
260 examples of political events that are followed by large numbers of voters. Speaking about the first (unsuccessful) challenge by Malcolm Turnbull against then prime minister Tony Abbott in early 2015, one practitioner said that such events cause voters to consider political characters and possible scenarios:
I think that caused a pushback from the public, and it forced them to look at Shorten as well, to focus on what was the alternative and realise they weren’t ready for that yet. That’s my theory. It’s almost like the effect of calling an election, when you call an election the polls tighten. And I think a virtual tightening occurred around then. Because people are not engaged out there, but then something happens that forces them to engage and you get a sharpening of attitudes (MP-02).
It is not only the scandals or dramas that are seen to attract voter attention: one practitioner said that the federal budget was a major opportunity for his party to reach their main target: undecided voters. Many voters pay attention to the reporting of this event because it has an impact on their own finances:
Those tables, particularly in the Telegraph, the popular papers, those tables that say am I better off, worse off, you know, nobody except twenty journalists, fifty economists and three people who should get a life have ever read the budget papers, but by 10 o’clock the next morning everyone in Australia has a view on whether it’s good or bad. And particularly those tables where your income’s this, you’ve got three kids, are you three grand better off or two grand worse off? And everyone knows (PP-LIB-08).
Voters not only pay attention to certain political events out of self-interest; some demonstrate the awareness and ability to respond when something happens in the political sphere that they think is bad, wrong, or damaging. One practitioner cited the public reaction to the very unpopular first federal budget handed down by then treasurer Joe Hockey in May 2014, to make the point that voters have the capability to notice and vocally disapprove of certain policies en masse:
Despite people on a day-to-day basis tuning out a lot of the stuff, when
261 really bad things happen it’s really clear that we have the ability to self- organise and that the community is quite comfortable to do that, and quite comfortable to exercise its voice (PP-GRE-06).
Another practitioner argued that for some voters, paying periodic attention to politics was less to do with a desire to be aware of policies they dislike, and more to do with being able to participate in social interactions and not appear ignorant:
With politics, people argue about it at work, people fight about it, it’s on the telly and in the papers […] people talk about it over the watercooler. It’s a topic, even if you find it boring. But if you want to be in on the conversation, you need to know a couple of things […] or you look like a dick (PP-LIB-10).
The Voter Survey investigated the level political knowledge among voters, and its findings support the contention of the practitioners that it is functional. A majority of all voters (63%) were able to correctly name the shadow treasurer at the time of the survey, and a smaller majority (54%) could correctly identify the environment policy of the government at the time (Appendix A: Q9, Q10). When voters were considered by voter group, the survey found that Switchers and Assessors did especially well, with 72.7% of Assessors correctly naming the shadow treasurer, and 63% of Switchers knowing the environment policy (Ch 4: Figs 4.17, 4.18, 4.19, 4.20). In terms of political interest, the Voter Survey found that Uninterested voters were, unsurprisingly, the outliers among voter groups that generally reported positive levels of interest in politics. More than 70% of Partisans, Switchers and Assessors replied positively to the question “Are you interested in politics?”, with Assessors being more likely than any of the other groups to be interested during election periods (Ch 4: Fig 4.10).
In discussing the political interest among voters, practitioners from media and politics shared the view that even a voter not generally interested might be engaged by certain issues, especially those that pertained directly to him or her: “Politics is important, because decisions are made every day by politicians which affects voters’ lives. So yeah, they take an interest” (PP-LIB-12). For many
262 practitioners, the notion that politics and political communications are most effective when they are relevant to the lives and experiences of citizens provided the key for attracting citizens’ attention. Those from the political field attempt to tailor messaging to resonate with voters by finding relevance, be it local, economic, or cultural. For example, a National Party practitioner observed that certain contests cause undecided voters to pay attention:
The swinging voters that are in play when it’s an Independent versus Nationals contest, they do come out, they’re very interested, they’re very engaged (PP-NAT-09).
A Liberal Party practitioner emphasised the importance of self-interest in appealing to voters:
They’re interested in the things that have an impact on their life. So if someone’s so good or so incompetent that it affects their expectations of the benefit from a particular policy then yes, they’ll follow the politics then. But they won’t follow the politics if it’s not relevant. It’s a pretty simple rule (PP-LIB-14).
Similarly, most of the media practitioners recognised that audiences are more likely to consume their products if they can see how the content relates to them:
We do have an obligation to let [viewers] know what’s going on, but we have to make it useful to them (MP-12);
I think it’s really important that newspapers cover politics…and I think that particularly policy stuff needs to be explained in a way that an interested reader can say well, okay, how will this affect my life (MP-03).
The idea that relevance is key to voter interest, engagement and acquisition of knowledge was used by some practitioners to challenge negative stereotypes of undecided voters. For example, talking about young people specifically, one said, “They’re engaged. If an issue relates to them, they’re engaged” (MP-08).
263 Similarly, another practitioner looked past problems with individual young voters to broader systems of political communication, arguing that there isn’t a lot of space in political discourse that accommodates young people:
If anything, our website’s success has shown that young people do want to engage with the conversation, the problem is that the conversation wasn’t letting them in. there’s no entry point in the mainstream media for a young person to say, “man, I wish I knew about what was actually going on here”, because all of the articles you read have so much assumed knowledge, and written in such a stodgy way, that it makes it deeply unappealing and feel quite exclusive, and you feel like you’re locked out and you’re not really part of the conversation, and no one’s writing it for you and no one wants to hear your opinion (MP-04).
While it concerns young people specifically, this comment circles back to the broader notion that if the political system is unwelcoming to voters, and the way politics is communicated is not appealing to important sections of them, it is not unreasonable for them to become disengaged or disaffected.
Voter disaffection, partisan dealignment, minor parties, and independents
Alongside ignorance and laziness, voter disaffection is often held up as a key factor in a perceived crisis in democracy (Norris 2011: 4). Arguments vary as to whether disaffection is a cause or a symptom of decline. However, there is general agreement amongst scholars that substantial numbers of voters are disengaging from the political system because they do not believe it is functional, fair or representative, and because they are disillusioned with political leaders who they see as corrupt, dishonest or incompetent. Lance Bennett, for example, argues that citizens “seem to have reached the conclusion that governments are, at worst, responsible for the economic conditions that dominate private lives, and, at best, of little use for remedying them” (Bennett 1998: 758).
The Voter Survey found that 13.9% of the electorate were Disaffected voters (Ch 4, Table 4.1), and all of the practitioners identified voter disaffection as
264 characteristic of a certain type of undecided voter. This was expressed as a cultural shift, and the focus was on politicians rather than broader political systems:
Committed voters are fairly predictable, through their whole life. Mum and Dad voted this way […] That rusted-on sort of committed voter is shrinking, no doubt about that […] Things have changed. Most of it has to do with disappointment in the political class (PP-LIB-08);
There’s lots of stereotypes [about swinging voters]. But there’s some definite commonalities among them now. I mean, hugely disillusioned with politics would be the first one. That’s the big thing. They just totally don’t like [then prime minister] Abbott, don’t like [opposition leader] Shorten, don’t believe in any of them, don’t believe they’re going to get a good answer out of any of them (PP-ALP-07).
Mistrust of political systems and politicians is perennially examined as a factor in citizen disengagement, in Australia and internationally (Heath and Topf 1987: 58; Crosby 2016; McAllister 2011: 71-74). Most of the arguments around voter disaffection focus on concerns of citizens with the functions of government, or with the conduct or character of elected representatives. Declining trust in government is also frequently linked to political scandals and periods of upheaval. Joseph Nye argues that an increase in media reporting of political scandals, and an increase in the use of polls rather than deliberation to determine policy, has fuelled alienation from political processes and, as a result, voter cynicism (Nye 1997). In the US, many scholars pinpoint Watergate as a pivotal moment that began a long period of political disillusionment (Dalton 2013: 46; Fiorina 1999: 405; Bennett 1998: 472). In Australia, Jackie Dickenson looks to historical factors, including the sacking of sitting prime ministers and the revelations contained in Wikileaks, as negatively affecting the relationship that the electorate has with its government (Dickenson 2013: 1-3). Dickenson cautions that lack of trust in government and politicians is not a new phenomenon:
265 Self-interest, dishonesty, incompetency and insincerity […] have been recurring issues in the relationship between voters and politicians in Australia from the beginning of representative democracy (Dickenson 2013: 248).
Several practitioners identified a perceived lack of honesty in individual politicians as a key source of voter disaffection:
People […] think they’re all a pack of liars and ratbags (MP-02);
That spiral, that sort of crocodile rolling death spiral that we’re in where the politicians keep lying to us because that’s the plan, you just keep on spouting the same lies and hope that someone will eventually believe that that’s the truth, we keep finding out, we get more disillusioned, they use that, that plays into what they’re doing, and we just keep heading further down (MP-01).
That politicians are perceived to be repeating the same simple messages, regardless of their credibility, compounds voter disaffection. Some practitioners pointed to individual politicians such as South Australian senator Nick Xenophon, or premier Jay Wetherill, saying that their popularity was in direct relationship to their perceived trustworthiness (MP-07, PP-ALP-07). In order to attract voters back to the major parties, one practitioner suggested what he clearly regarded as a radical solution: “Perhaps it’s time to experiment with truth” (PP-LIB-10).
Roberto Foa and Yascha Mounk see voter disengagement and dissatisfaction as a sign that democracy itself is teetering on the edge of total collapse. They argue that failure of political scientists to recognise this potential crisis will result in the biggest political “blindside” since the failure of Communism in Europe (Foa and Mounk 2016: 5-6; 17). For Foa and Mounk, a rejection of mainstream parties is intrinsically linked with democratic decline, making undecided voters the most culpable:
266 As party identification has weakened and party membership has declined, citizens have become less willing to stick with establishment parties. Instead, voters increasingly endorse single-issue movements, vote for populist candidates, or support ‘antisystem’ parties that define themselves in opposition to the status quo. Even in some of the richest and most politically stable regions of the world, it seems as though democracy is in a state of disrepair (Foa and Mounk 2016: 5).
Of course, association between partisan dealignment and major socio-political shifts is not new, and scholarship around this was considered in Chapter Two. Foa and Mounk, however, attempt to relate dealignment with both voter happiness and democratic function itself. Their argument is based on a series of surveys in which voters from several democracies are asked to rate their happiness with democracy. A substantial number of voters expressed attitudes that demonstrate displeasure or distrust. Foa and Mounk acknowledge the obvious challenge to this argument – that current democratic governments are at fault rather than democracy per se – but they reject this criticism, arguing this view is overly optimistic, and is overwhelmed by the strength of the disaffection that respondents expressed. However, Foa and Mounk fail to define “democracy”, regardless of how fraught that endeavour might be, and in doing so accept that a “democracy” is any system that purports to be and is recognised as a democracy, regardless of how well- functioning the democratic systems in that country are. To declare that citizens who criticise their own “democratic” governments are therefore critical of “democracy” overlooks two things: first, that respondents are most likely drawing on their experiences as citizens of “democracies” in order to make these judgements, and second, that respondents could themselves be aware of this gap.
Implicit in judgments around citizen disengagement or negative attitudes as cause or indicator of democratic decline is an assumption “that our political systems are completely functional, interesting and worth engaging with, and that citizens who don’t participate or fail to seek information from traditional sources are deficient” (Throsby 2013: 100). However, criticisms of developed democracies include problems around perceived corruption, gerrymandering, access to and ease of voting, and adequacy of leadership and representation. It would be foolish to
267 assert that all “democracies” are behaving “democratically”, just as it would be to claim that every democratically elected politician consistently embodies virtues such as justice, fairness and altruism.
It has been argued in this chapter that a movement away from traditional ways of participating in politics does not equate with disengagement. Neither does voter disaffection need be expressive of disengagement. David Burchell, for example, regards cynicism as a particularly Australian characteristic, and one which is often associated with political acumen rather than ignorance or disengagement (Burchell 2002: 62-63). This is echoed in the view of one political practitioner:
I think that there’s something in the Australian identity that is a little bit anti-authoritarian, and that plays out to a fair degree into a bit of a healthy scepticism for our politicians. Why are they telling us what to do? Who do they think they are? (PP-GRE-06).
Disaffection is also seen as a factor in the rise of successful minor party and independent candidates (Miragliotta 2014: 209, 217); as one practitioner noted, “More than a quarter of people in 2013 didn’t want to vote for a major party” (PP- GRE-06). Some political practitioners regarded voter disaffection as providing an opportunity: those from minor parties saw their candidates directly benefit from a sense that the political establishment is flawed. A Greens practitioner said that because voters are “feeling disenfranchised, feeling under pressure, feeling like the system’s not looking after them”, they turn to candidates who they feel are independent of the political apparatus. Specifically, this practitioner cited Western Australian Senator Scott Ludlam, whose parliamentary speeches and social media output directly criticise the machinations of major-party politics (PP-GRE-06). In other words, disaffection with mainstream politics can create undecided voters, who find political expression in non-major party alternatives. The agency of these undecided voters confronts the stereotype that they do not meaningfully engage with politics.
268 The National Party also tries to claim outsider status, and appeal to voters who are considering changing their vote in response to a disaffection with mainstream politics:
I do think the majority are fed up with the status quo. Our local members are capitalising on that in a little way. I mean, they’re not seen in the same light as other politicians, we’re finding. Everyone hates politics but loves their local National Party member (PP-NAT-09).
This same practitioner went on to say that, even though a Nationals candidate might want to campaign to this strength, political reality would restrain them: “Obviously there’s a limit to how much we can go out and slag off our coalition partners, for example. And that’s one of the sacrifices you have to make to be in government” (PP-NAT-09).
Voter disaffection is also a factor in the rise in popularity of independent candidates. In recent times, these include Clive Palmer and his Palmer United Party (PUP) and Victorian Senator Ricky Muir of the Motoring Enthusiasts’ Party who both had success in the 2013 election; Jacqui Lambie who won a Tasmanian Senate seat on the PUP ticket in 2013 and then went on to successfully re-contest it as an independent in 2016 after a bitter split with Palmer; and Queensland Senator Pauline Hanson and the One Nation party in 2016. Both scholars and practitioners have suggested that voters who swing away from the major parties and towards minor parties and independents, often do so in protest. One Nation supporters in 2016, for example, swung away equally from the ALP and the Coalition (Marr 2017: 59-60). Ian McAllister said of these voters:
They have a very high level of distrust in politics […] They are disillusioned with career politicians, they don’t think they are working in their best interests (McAllister in Remeikis 2017: 8).
Several practitioners commented on the existence of a group of disaffected undecided voters for whom an anti-politics sentiment is more pronounced than an
269 ideological position on a political spectrum. For example, one said their party’s research showed that there was a surprising commonality between segments of voters who swung to the Greens and voters who swung to PUP in the 2013 election:
The Green voters were classic, they weren’t Green people, they weren’t environmentalists, they weren’t even left-leaning, there were people […] who were anti-refugees, but what they liked about the Greens was they were seen as authentic and stood for something, and were anti-mainstream politics […] Clive Palmer’s people were exactly the same. All their reasons for voting for Clive were about, he was real. He’s going to give the mainstream a kick. And they were totally disillusioned, they didn’t think there was a choice. They didn’t want Abbott but they couldn’t vote for Labor again, so they went for Clive. And he was saying really populist stuff that rang true to them (PP-ALP-07).
This anti-establishment sentiment, in which voters swing to minor candidates simply to send a disapproving message to the established politicians, was credited for Palmer’s success by another practitioner:
So many people I spoke to after the last election voted for Clive Palmer, even friends of mine. And I asked them why and they said Oh I don’t know, just sick of the major parties, and he looked like a bit of fun. And now they’re thinking, what have I done (MP-02).
Similarly, one practitioner recalled research he and his team had conducted on Pauline Hanson’s base when she first became a political force in the late 1990s, which revealed a diversity to her support base that belied the stereotypes surrounding her supporters, but emphasised their disaffection:
I thought these people were going to all be redneck bigots, worried about white Australia and all of that. Absolutely not! Loads of them were really smart, and what they were saying was, it’s a protest vote […] we like the fact that someone is standing up and asking really dumb questions […]
270 because there’s something wrong with the system, and it needs to be dragged down to earth a bit more (PP-LIB-10).
Practitioners attached the success of minor parties and independents not only to a protest vote, but also to a sense that, with the major parties becoming more and more professional, informed by marketing techniques like market research, and more polished, that independents are more “authentic”. Some practitioners (PP- LIB-10, PP-ALP-07) commented that the support base of Senators Lambie and Muir have benefited from protest voters attracted to their ordinariness, their perceived genuineness, and their lack of professional political polish. This anti- elitism has been recognised as something of a feature of Australian politics, especially on the conservative side of politics (Sawer and Hindess 2004). One said that “If having some ordinary people, arguably even ordinary people who aren’t that bright, form some sort of circuit breaker to the usual gamesmanship, it’s not terrible” (MP-01). However, practitioners also expressed caution, relating the rise of independents with a potential populist surge:
There is that strand of Australian culture which is anti-intellectual and cynical […] there’s a particularly Australian flavour to that […] I think it’s dangerous, and really we’re only lucky because we’re so bloody apathetic that we haven’t had a bout of fascism or extremism really. Because if you combine that anti-intellectual stuff with a tendency towards authoritarianism it could be very dangerous (PP-ALP-02).
Australian citizens and civic duty
Despite all of the debate about a decline, Australian citizens retain a strong sense of civic duty. The Voter Survey found the that the overwhelming majority of citizens (90%) answered positively when asked “How important is it to learn about politics?”, with only a very small proportion (8%) responding “not particularly”, and only two percent responding “not at all” (Appendix A: Q5). When broken down into voter groups, even the Uninterested voters, who are consistently less likely to participate in political behaviours or consume political media, asserted the importance of gaining at least some political information, with
271 18.1% of them saying it was “very important” and 55.1% saying it was important “a little” (Ch 4, Figure 4.16). This sense of civic responsibility is found in other Australian research; Paul Jones and Michael Pusey find that “’Ordinary’ people do, on the whole, care a good deal about politics and national politics in particular”, with 82% of Australians consuming some sort of news every day (Jones and Pusey 2008: 590).
This broad sense of civic optimism, buoyed by an overall respect for voters and trust in the Australian electorate to deliver a reasonable result, was shared by practitioners from both the political and the media fields:
I think democracy in Australia is quite healthy (PP-GRE-06);
Oh well a lot of people will tell you that it’s hideously broken and that it’s a problem and that we shall all be rooned. Nothing could be further from the truth. Our participation rates in democracy, evidence by the number of people who vote, are still, I don’t know exactly, but I think they are some of the highest anywhere in the world, I know that particularly in the UK and North America half the work is in getting out the vote, I think that even though it’s probably at a relatively superficial level I think that Australians are more engaged than anyone anywhere else (PP-LIB-17).
Generally, practitioners expressed a faith in the system’s ability to self-correct, as well as a sense that crisis narratives are overstated. This is underpinned by a rejection of the main tenets of the supposed decline: that citizens lack civic responsibility and are incompetent stewards of democracy. Political practitioners overwhelmingly expressed respectful attitudes towards the citizens they target, emphasising their shrewdness, sophistication and intuition:
There’s no evidence that politics is getting dumber. There’s evidence that it’s actually getting more sophisticated in terms of conversation with the electorate […] because you’re having to appeal in a much smarter way to a voter, who’s aware of what’s going on, and who is seeing the sausage being made as well as cooked as well as eating it […] Absolutely they’re
272 more sophisticated. They’re more aware of the power of their vote, they get the nightly TV news about the state of the economy, the stock market, the share market, they’re more aware of their tactical voting power, they are more likely to game the national opinion polls. Oh shit yeah, they’re tactically astute, voters (PP-LIB-14);
[Voters] are actually really good at summing people up. They can pick a fraud. They can pick spin. And they’re communication literate these days. And they don’t take anything at face value. So when a politician says something, they’re wondering ‘why is he saying that’ and not taking it just at face value. Not all the time, but a lot of the time (PP-ALP-07).
The same sense of respect for audiences/voters was expressed by all of the media practitioners. They hold the view that they are making media for generally interested and engaged citizens, and would reject the famous cliché that “No one in this world […] has ever lost money by underestimating the intelligence of the great masses of the plain people” (Menken in Landemore 2013: 173):
A lot of people you talk to will say “Oh I’m not interested in politics”, but then when you start asking them questions about who they like and what politicians they’ve thought were good, you find that there’s actually quite a lot of knowledge there, and there’s a lot of conviction there (MP-03);
I reckon the cliché of young people not knowing anything about politics and being disengaged just isn’t true (MP-09);
You know, our audience, I don’t think they’re stupid. I think they’re busy. I think they work hard, they’re lifters not leaners, and I think they deserve high-information content. I think they can fucking handle it. I just always aimed for being high-information. Give someone more information and they’ll make a better decision (MP-07).
273 While all of the comments about voters expressed by practitioners are generalisations, they do not conform to the stereotypical view of the undecided voter who is disengaged and disconnected.
A primary reason practitioners gave for the health Australian democracy was the system of compulsory voting. The Voter Survey found that the majority of Australian citizens (64%) would still vote if they weren’t compelled (Appendix A: Q4). This proportion rises amongst Partisans (76.6%), Assessors (75.3%) and Switchers (75.7%), more than three quarters of whom would voluntarily vote (Ch 4: Fig 4.14). Even allowing for the fact that people tend to overstate their willingness to vote (Jackman 1999), this is a substantial proportion. The Voter Survey also found that 14% of citizens are especially interested in politics during election periods, and 30% are more likely to talk about politics during election times (Appendix A: Q2, Q3). This suggests that for some citizens, elections promote political engagement.
There is some debate about the merits of compulsory voting. Typically, it is criticised for including the opinions of voters who are regarded as incapable of adequately exercising the responsibility. This thesis has considered how this concern pertains to undecided voters, and has argued that it stems from a stereotypical view of undecided voters as being ignorant. The concern has also found voice in scholarship, with two scholars asking of compulsory voting, “[s]hould we force the drunk to drive?” (Brennan and Hill 2014: 83ff). These scholars draw their conclusion in the affirmative. Justifications for supporting compulsory voting include the fact that it avoids the necessity to plough vast resources into “getting out the vote” (Crisp 1965: 131), that it contributes to a more stable political system (Mackerras and McAllister 1999), and that it tends to focus Australian election campaigns on the middle, rather than extremist fringes (Errington and Miragliotta 2007: 103). Jill Sheppard has found that, if enforced strongly, compulsory voting has positive effects on political knowledge, and that it reduces the impact of education on the political knowledge of citizens making it more evenly distributed in societies whose citizens are compelled to vote (Sheppard 2015). There is also a view that compulsory voting encourages citizen
274 engagement at election time (Aitkin 1982: 351; Rydon 1963: 178), one that is supported by this research.
There were some concerns expressed by practitioners about the effect on election results of ignorant voters:
Well if you’re a swinging voter you’re not going to go and seek political information out. And I think our system is set up to sort of maximise the impact of these sorts of people. In a voluntary system these people wouldn’t engage at all (PP-ALP-15).
However, all practitioners, including the one quoted here, were fundamentally supportive of compulsory voting. Several spoke of its negation of the need to campaign to get out the vote (PP-LIB-08, PP-LIB-14, PP-ALP-03, PP-LIB-17, PP-ALP-04, MP-07). There was a recognition that it helped mitigate extreme polarisation in campaigns: “I think it’s a good system because it maintains mainstream issue focus” (PP-LIB-14). However, its most admired function was that it required citizens to pay at least passing attention to politics. Rather than forcing the ignorant and disengaged undecided voters to vote and thereby undermining the political system, practitioners uniformly held the view that compulsory voting requires citizens to engage, and that overall, citizens rise to that responsibility:
There’s nothing more important. At the end of the day it’s who runs the country and why […] I think people should get off their arses and inform themselves. And that’s why I’m a big fan of compulsory voting. People should be just forced to care at least once every three years. It’s a small price to pay for a well-functioning democracy (MP-02);
With families, especially with little kids, because their lives are so busy, they will take general note and interest in what’s going on, but they mightn’t know everything down to the last detail. But they will probably make it their business to know closer to the time of an election […] I do support compulsory voting, absolutely, one hundred percent (PP-LIB-12);
275
Compulsory voting actually asks people their opinion, not just giving them the opportunity to offer it if they remember to, and that is a, I think that is quite an important step. Because when you ask people their opinion they’re much more likely to think about it (MP-03).
In engaging the citizenry, and requiring them all to vote, compulsory voting also lends legitimacy to the overall system:
It beats the Christ out of anything else overseas. It works. We do, and our voting system does, give us the best candidates. I am still a believer in compulsory voting and compulsory preferential, so you genuinely need to get fifty percent plus one...not some pissy figure like the yanks have, you get thirty percent and you get elected […] The country’s still basically alright (PP-LIB-08);
We have, for better or worse, a system of compulsory voting. What is brilliant about it, what I think is awesome about our system, is that is a hundred percent accurate snapshot of what everybody of voting age feels. When someone just draws a dick and balls on their paper, that is an accurate snapshot of how they feel, to the point of someone like me who numbers every box below the line because they care too much and it doesn’t make any difference to anything at all but it makes them feel good about themselves, and everyone in between, that’s an accurate snapshot of where we’re at (MP-07).
Overall, the practitioners did not support the contention that democracy is in crisis. While frequent and robust criticisms were made of political figures and decisions, when asked to step back and consider the wider context, they all held positive and optimistic views of the Australian electorate, and the system within which it votes.
Conclusion
276 Arguments that democracy is in crisis are thwarted by the fact that it is impossible to be definitive about what democracy is, and, by extension, how good citizens of democracies behave, and what democratic activities entail. Anxieties about citizens’ ability to be sufficiently informed and engaged often centre on undecided voters, and yet as this thesis has shown, they are impossible to homogenise as a single group. Key concepts of political engagement and knowledge are frequently viewed far too narrowly; and are often entrenched in normative ideas of civic virtue, and outdated concepts of the types of behaviours and media habits practiced by “good citizens”. The idea of political engagement can be extended to include a variety of different behaviours and practices, including media-related activites such as online political discussion and activism, that better reflect an increasingly mediated world. There also needs to be a realistic assessment of the amounts of political knowledge and information that busy citizens can accrue, which recognises that in many cases, relatively small amounts can be adequate to cast a vote that represents a citizen’s views and beliefs. Nor does a rejection of types of political behaviours, practices or media necessarily correspond to citizen disengagement. Citizens who do not conform to these normative standards, for example those who are busy, disaffected, or young, need not be automatically dismissed as inadequate citizens who are problems for democracy. Similarly, those who may not have the cultural opportunities (nor, indeed, inclination) to participate in politics by communicating directly with their representatives, organising citizen protest, or joining a political group need not be dismissed as bad citizens. The lens upon what is viewed as “good” citizen behaviour can be widened to include new norms of citizenship, many of which are mediated. Undecided voters are a complex group who display a variety of different political behaviours and attitudes. The extreme diversity of contemporary media allows for all levels of political sophistication to be reached. There are many ways in which a diversity of citizens can contribute to a functioning polity in an Australian democracy that is, at least for now, far from being on the brink of self-destruction.
277 Chapter Ten Conclusion: beyond stereotypes, normative standards, and decline narratives
This thesis has addressed a lack of detailed research into undecided voters in Australia by gathering empirical data about their demographic profiles, behaviour and attitudes; and by considering how they are conceived of in Australian political and popular discourse. These data have allowed for a broader consideration of how views of undecided voters affect ideas around political media, election campaigns, citizenship, and democracy. All of these themes are inter-related: stereotypical views of undecided voters as being disengaged and most responsive to mainstream commercial television have led to election campaigns running simplistic messages on mainstream, traditional media channels. This, in turn, has fed the stereotype, and encouraged a view that ignorant undecided voters lack the necessary skills as citizens, and that democracy is therefore endangered.
However, this thesis has found that undecided decided voters cannot be regarded, nor campaigned to, as a single cohort; rather they have a variety of motivations for changing their votes, which relate to a range of levels of political interest, sophistication, knowledge and media habits. This research has also shown that negative stereotypes around undecided voters – which cast them as uninformed and disengaged – still dominate election campaigning and media strategy, despite the fact that practitioners recognise their limitations. The perceived failure of citizens and media to contribute to a functioning democracy, combined with an increase in partisan dealignment and disaffection with the major parties, are implicated in fears for the future of democracy. This thesis has challenged both the stereotypes surrounding undecided voters, and the implication of these voters’ role in a perceived democratic decline. These challenges have been based on an overall position that definitional terms surrounding a set of key concepts explored in the thesis – undecided voters, political media, political engagement and political knowledge – are highly contested, and bound by stereotypes and outdated normative standards. Each requires rethinking, expanding and updating to reflect major socio-economic and technological changes including post- materialism, erosion of the class structure as traditionally conceived, and the enormous impact of digital and online media upon society and politics.
278
This thesis has argued that a diverse view of undecided voters, and a preparedness to thoroughly exploit the new media platforms available to political communications strategists, would result in election campaigns that are more targeted and more sophisticated. The sort of simple, repetitive messaging thought necessary to be registered and comprehended by disengaged, undecided voters also alienates and irritates those undecided voters who are more interested and engaged in the campaign. Paradoxically, simplistic sloganeering pitched at a stereotyped undecided voter serves to reinforce negative stereotypes about politicians and the political process: that they are out of touch, and have a poor opinion of the electorate. This research has found that, despite the tone of much election campaign messaging, individual political practitioners do recognise that there are groups of undecided voters who would respond well to more nuanced, complex communication. Overall, practitioners have a great deal of respect for the voters they are trying to persuade. However, elections are driven by a vast, self- perpetuating machinery. The views and opinions of individual practitioners, even when aligned, will not quickly change the practices and protocols of election campaigns. This is a fundamental tension among political campaign practitioners.
The immovability of entrenched systems in election campaigning also affects the choice of media platforms used to communicate political information. Technological changes, as well as the development and popularisation of political satire cast across a variety of platforms, have contributed to a huge range of media sources from which citizens can receive political information, and participate in political activities. However, despite an awareness of the potential provided by an increasingly mediated political environment, this thesis has found that Australian major party practitioners are cautious about abandoning tried-and-true campaign communication techniques that are overwhelmingly focussed on commercial free- to-air television broadcasting. This research has found that while many undecided voters, especially in the Uninteresteds voter group, do still encounter most of their political content from commercial television programs, there are also substantial groups of Assessors and Switchers that seek out politics from public broadcasters and online sources. These forms of political communication could be exploited by political campaigns in order to reach a more comprehensive audience with better
279 targeted content and messages appropriate to their levels of interest and engagement.
When discussing a perceived decline in democracy, much of the popular and academic narrative focuses on who is to blame. Frequently, the culprits are found to be a dumbed-down media and an inadequate electorate. However, the thesis has argued that, firstly, fears of democratic decline are perennial, and that changes in the way democracy is practised are not necessarily negative, but can be neutral or positive. Secondly, the thesis has sought to reposition what is considered to be “political”, with regard to citizen behaviour and media, and recommend levels of political engagement and knowledge that are more compatible with actual, mediated lives. This finding shifts notions of “blame” away from citizens who otherwise would be beholden to arbitrary standards of civic virtue, towards a more pragmatic, realistic view of contemporary political behaviour, one which often involves mediated activities, and does not require an exhaustive knowledge of politics.
However, this thesis does not advocate an uncritical acceptance that all of the changes affecting democratic practice and function are benign. The global events of 2016, including the election of United States president Donald Trump, and the decision of the United Kingdom to leave the European Union, have reinvigorated concerns about the effectiveness of democracy as a political system. The issues raised by these events have the potential to affect other democracies including Australia, and include an extreme polarisation of the electorate; a rise in populist, virulently anti-politics sentiment; a tendency towards anti-intellectualism and an elevation of opinion over evidence; a highly partisan media reinforcing the political positions of their audiences; and a preparedness by political leaders and media outlets to use material in political and media discourse that is not factually verifiable.
After both the Brexit referendum and the US presidential election, commentary was quick to lay responsibility for the decisions at the feet of voters presumed to be ignorant, unsophisticated and stupid – the characteristics typically ascribed to the stereotypical undecided voter. In the US especially, where the comparison of
280 exit polls elucidates where swings occurred, Trump’s victory was a result of key states in the mid-western “Rust Belt” swinging from Democrat to Republican (Huang et al. 2016). During the presidential campaign and after Trump was elected, commentators, especially from the left of politics, speculated about Trump voters: they were “stupid” (Shenkman 2016), “idiots” (Chait 2016) and “ignorant” (Brennan 2016). Hillary Clinton famously called them “a basket of deplorables” (Cassidy 2016), while her husband Bill dismissed them as “standard rednecks” (Fox News 2016). An internet meme widely circulated in 2004 after the election of George W. Bush, which depicts a map that renamed the swing states “Dumb Fuckistan”, found new life in the days following Trump’s election. Even after exit polling revealed that Trump supporters were wealthier than the national average, with comparable levels of education (Huang et al. 2016), these entrenched stereotypes have persisted.
However, far from indicating that the electorate is out of touch and uninterested in politics, the Brexit and Trump campaigns, and the subsequent debates and discourse following their victories, point to electorates that are in fact highly engaged. In the US there are strong suggestions emerging that the campaign and election of Trump has invigorated political participation and revitalised political media. Although the President has sought to engender distrust in the mainstream liberal media with his repeated accusations of “fake news” (Blake 2017), interest in his presidency has generated an increase in political coverage across all media in the United States: online circulation figures of major news outlets such as The New York Times, as well as ratings for political satire programs such as Saturday Night Live, are at record levels (Bond 2017; Huddleston 2016; Littleton 2017). If declining citizen participation and a flabby political media are signs of democracy in trouble, the United States can be reassured. Further, Trump’s effective use of Twitter to communicate directly with his supporters, disseminate (often unsubstantiated) news, opinion and information, and dominate the agendas of mainstream media, has amply demonstrated the utility of social media as central political tools.
Overall, it is too early to tell whether some of these new concerns about democratic health will be founded. There is cause for caution. The rise of a non-
281 mainstream, non-professional and highly partisan online media which deliberately disseminates misinformation and ideological propaganda poses a huge threat to an inadequately informed polity. Further, there are growing concerns around data privacy, and the surveillance of citizens who are involved in online political organising and activism. There have been suggestions that leaders of activist groups such as Black Lives Matter are being monitored (Levin 2016; Joseph 2015), as well as reports that immigrants detained at airports are having their social media accounts scrutinised for signs of political dissent (Walters, Helmore and Dehghan 2017), and that “extreme vetting” of potential immigrants by the White House include the supply of their social media passwords (Al Jazeera 2017). There is potential for powerful social media companies to exert political influence over the content they host, and the non-transparent use of methods such as algorithms to determine the placement and priority of material robs the companies of any credible claim to neutrality (Bell and Taylor 2017: 59). These factors are, arguably, significantly more threatening and troubling than the ability of the polity to participate in civic life. Voters, as this thesis has argued, generally have sufficient levels of political knowledge, civic engagement and responsibility to ultimately identify and withstand these threats.
In Australia, 2016 also came with fears of populist movements with racist undertones, as Pauline Hanson and her One Nation party found some renewed electoral success. As was found with Trump voters and Brexiteers, the voters who swung towards One Nation are frequently characterised as ignorant, and commentators were quick to see a link between the voters in the three countries. Hanson has certainly borrowed pieces of rhetoric and campaign style from Trump, and both have benefitted from a sense of dissatisfaction with political establishment. Unlike Trump, however, Hanson has relied almost solely on the protest vote, and few Australians regard her as a serious national leader. Indeed, her share of votes is comparably very small: Brexit was carried with 52% of the vote, Trump won 46%, whereas Hanson received a national Senate vote of 4.3% in the 2016 federal election (Marr 2017: 5). Although research suggests that those who swung to One Nation were a diverse cohort (ibid: 46-61), the negative typecasting of these voters in terms of socio-economic status, class, wealth and
282 education, emphasises the pervasiveness of the stereotyping that surrounds undecided voters.
With some similar social and cultural characteristics, but different political systems, a comparative study between the undecided voters in Australia, Britain and the United States could illuminate how, for example, compulsory voting influences non-partisans, and affects the way they are constructed in political discourse. Another piece of further research could be on independent candidates, who have become more important in the Australian political landscape since this thesis was initially devised, and are beneficiaries of electoral volatility and voter disaffection. The data collected for this thesis could be complemented by interviews with political practitioners from micro parties, and with independent candidates and their advisors, which could be combined with a more thorough consideration of voters who have defected from the major parties in order to support these candidates. A related issue, also rich ground for further research, is the role of class in the figuring of undecided voters, and a consideration of how much the stereotypes which surround them are borne from elitist assumptions.
Undecided voters are growing in number, and in political impact. This research has shown that they cannot be regarded as a fixed, predictable cohort. In recognising their diversity, complexity and changeability, this thesis provides an updated conception of Australian undecided voters, in order that they can be better understood and better campaigned to. A vastly wider media landscape, with infinite numbers of platforms and a capacity for targeted, one-to-one political communication, can allow for more sophisticated election campaigns, in which voters are respected, and the surrounding political discourse reflects a variety of levels of sophistication and engagement. Better targeting of undecided voters at a practical and functional level would resolve some of the tensions that exist between conception and execution on the part of political practitioners, and so affect the narratives around stereotypical ignorant and disengaged undecided voters. This, in turn, would shift the discourse around our elections and those who vote in them, and so help address the broader theoretical concerns of democratic decline. More sophisticated, targeted and diverse political campaigning, which is well within the grasp of modern Australian campaign teams – along with a
283 widening of the types of behaviours that are regarded as effective political participation – can only serve to engage more citizens with political activities and practices, and contribute to the ongoing survival of a constantly evolving democratic system.
284 Appendix A: Survey questions, with top-line results
Question 1:
Do you have a clear idea of which party you are going to vote for in the upcoming federal election?
Frequency Per cent
Yes: I usually vote for the same party 650 45
Yes: I’m voting for a different party this time 170 12
No: I’m going to wait until the end of the campaign to make up my mind 275 19
No: I don’t like any of the parties 200 14
No: I don’t follow politics 141 10
Total 1436 100
Question 2:
Would you say you are…
Frequency Per cent
Very interested in politics 149 10
Quite interested in politics 525 37
Interested but only during election periods 202 14
Not especially interested in politics 370 26
Not at all interested in politics 190 13
Total 1436 100
285
Question 3:
Do you talk about politics with friends and family?
Frequency Per cent Yes, all the time 267 19
Yes, when there’s an election coming up 433 30
Rarely 596 42
Never 140 10
Total 1436 100
Question 4:
Would you still vote if it weren’t a legal requirement?
Frequency Per cent
Yes 923 64
No 285 20
Not sure 228 16
Total 1436 100
286
Question 5:
How important is it for citizens to learn about politics?
Frequency Per cent
Very important 709 49
A little bit important 591 41
Not particularly important 107 8
Not at all important 28 2
Total 1436 100
Question 6:
From which media source do you get the majority of your political information?
Frequency Per cent
Television 890 62
Radio 108 8
Newspapers 189 13
Online: websites of mainstream media organisations, eg ABC website, news.com.au 189 13
Online: blogs, non- mainstream news sites eg Crikey 30 2
Online: social media eg Facebook and Twitter 29 2
Total 1436 100
287
Question 7:
Which (if any) of these television shows do you regularly watch?
Frequency Per cent
ABC news 457 32
Channel 7 news 582 41
Channel 9 news 508 35
Channel 10 news 310 22
SBS news 187 13
A Current Affair 422 29
Today Tonight 346 24
730 Report 226 16
Dateline 97 7
Four Corners 236 16
Sixty Minutes 387 27
Sunday Night 266 19
Q and A 281 20
The Project 291 20
Sunrise 352 25
The Today Show 228 16
The Chaser 120 8
Annabel Crabb’s Kitchen Cabinet 81 6
The Insiders 86 6
Lateline 160 11
Total 1436
288 Question 8:
If you use social media (Facebook, Twitter, etc), what do you use it for?
Frequency Per cent
Connecting with my friends 879 61
Networking for my career 131 9
Playing online games 250 17
Following the news 197 14
Learning about politics 53 4
Participating in political activity (petitions, posting about politics, etc) 71 5
Communicating opinions about politics (eg Tweeting) 79 6
Other (with option to say what) 34 2
I don’t use social media 446 31
Total 1436
Question 9:
Who is the shadow treasurer?
Frequency Per cent Julie Bishop 34 2
Barnaby Joyce 25 2
Joe Hockey 911 63
Wayne Swan 165 12
Don’t know 301 21
Total 1436 100
289
Question 10:
What is the centrepiece of prime minister Kevin Rudd’s environmental policy?
Frequency Per cent A carbon tax 255 18
An emissions trading scheme (ETS) 775 54
A green army 22 2
Don’t know 384 27
Total 1436 100
290 Appendix B Political and media practitioners
Table B.1: Political practitioners: roles, parties and gender
Code Role Party M/F PP-ALP-01 Strategist Labor M PP-ALP-02 National Secretary (former) Labor M PP-ALP-03 Strategist, Campaign Director Labor M PP-ALP-04 Strategist Labor M PP-ALP-05 Strategist, pollster Labor M PP-GRE-06 Campaign director Greens F PP-ALP-07 Qualitative researcher (focus groups) Labor M PP-LIB-08 Campaign director (former) Liberal M PP-NAT-09 Campaign director Nationals M PP-LIB-10 Communications strategist Liberal M PP-GRE-11 Pollster Greens M PP-LIB-12 Communications advisor Liberal F PP-GRE-13 Strategist Greens M PP-LIB-14 Pollster, strategist Liberal M PP-ALP-15 Pollster Labor M PP-ALP-16 Pollster Labor M PP-LIB-17 Campaign director (former) Liberal M
291 Table B.2: Media practitioners: roles, mediums, networks and gender
Code Role Medium Network* M/F MP- 01 Executive producer Television PB M MP- 02 Political editor Newspaper COM M MP- 03 Presenter, columnist Multi media FRE F MP-04 Website editor Multi media COM F MP-05 Executive producer Television PB M MP-06 Executive producer, presenter Television FRE M MP-07 Presenter Television COM M MP-08 Producer Radio PB F MP-09 Presenter Radio PB M MP-10 Managing director Multi media PB M MP-11 Political editor Television PB M MP-12 Executive producer Television COM M MP-13 Political columnist Newspaper COM F
* PB = Public broadcaster; COM = Commercially owned media outlet; FRE = Freelance
292 Appendix C
Table C.1: Coding schema for the interviews with practitioners
Theme Sub-theme Sub-sub theme Undecided voters Basic definitions and How to identify them terminologies There are more now Types of undecided voters “Don’t know, don’t care”, outer- suburban, blue-collar
Busy Disaffected More sophisticated
Different for Greens, Nats Campaigning Importance to campaign
Importance of context
Campaigning techniques Polling and focus groups Effective/not effective: circumstances
Budget constraints
Use in policy formation
Data and micro-targeting Effective/not effective: circumstances How data collected, changes in methods
Budget constraints
Doorknocking, canvassing and Effective/not effective direct mail Different for Greens. Nats
Messaging Role of research
Creating a narrative
Advertising
Role of leader Role of instinct Media Mediatisation of politics
Digitisation of media Effects on politics
Effects on voters/audiences
Effects on your job
Audiences/voters Similarities between audiences and voters Media cont. Targeting different formats and programs
Political media Soft/hard news, satire
293 Judgements about use of entertainment for political media
Creating political media
Online and social media Useful campaign tool?
Not understood or utilised
Strengths and weaknesses
Voter behaviour Knowledge of and interest in People are knowledgeable politics People are not knowledgeable
There has been a change
How much knowledge is
sufficient?
Political engagement and People are engaged participation People are not engaged
There has been a change
How to measure this?
How much is sufficient? Role of media Places of knowledge/info
Places of engagement
Democracy Decline narrative: crisis in Media to blame democracy/dumbing down of media Politicians to blame
Electorate to blame
There is not a crisis
Respect for citizens Respect them
Do not respect them Compulsory voting In favour
Not in favour Independent candidates and Good for democracy micro parties Bad for democracy
Sense of responsibility
294 Appendix D
Interview Outline
These interviews were semi-structured and open ended, with frequent use of follow-up questions.
Political Practitioners • Do you specifically target undecided voters when developing your campaign strategies? • What are the characteristics of this group? • How do you identify them? • What strategies and campaigning techniques do you use to target them? • Do you regard this group as being electorally important? Why? • Are there any particular forms of media that you target when wanting to communicate with undecided voters? • Are there any particular forms of media that you don’t bother with when wanting to communicate with undecided voters? • Do you use social media as a campaigning tool? What for? • Are policies ever developed/altered with undecided voters in mind? • Do you have any strategies designed to reach voters who aren’t much interested in politics? What are they? • What do you think about the health of Australian democracy? • Do think that media have “dumbed down”? • Do you support the system of compulsory voting? • Has political campaigning changed during your career? How?
Media Practitioners • Do you have a clear sense of who your audience is? • Are they interested in politics? • How can media make politics more interesting? • When you’re writing an article/making a segment, how much knowledge do you assume of your audience? • What do you understand is meant by the term “swinging voter”? • Do you regard undecided voters as critical to election results? • How do you think most undecided voters get their political information? • What do you think about the health of Australian democracy? • Do think that media have “dumbed down”? • Do you support the system of compulsory voting? • How have media changed during your career? • What has been the effect of digital media on your job? • Do you use social media? What for? • Do you feel a responsibility to communicate political information to those who might not be interested?
295 Appendix E
Table E.1: Australian free-to-air television networks
Network Abbreviation Description
Australian Broadcasting ABC Public broadcaster across television, radio Corporation and online
Channel Seven Ch 7 Commercially owned television network
Channel Nine Ch 9 Commercially owned television network
Channel Ten Ch 10 Commercially owned television network
Special Broadcasting Service SBS Public broadcaster across television and digital radio with charter to provide content for Australia’s multicultural communities •
296 Table E.2: Television programs included in the Voter Survey
Program Description Network Timeslot
ABC News Local and international news ABC primetime
Channel 7 News Local and international news Ch 7 primetime Channel 9 News Local and international news Ch 9 primetime SBS News Primarily international news SBS primetime A Current Affair Magazine-style current affairs with focus on Ch 9 primetime consumer issues, very little coverage of politics
Today Tonight Magazine-style current affairs with focus on Ch 7 primetime consumer issues, very little coverage of politics
7.30 Current affairs with substantial amount of ABC primetime political content, including feature stories and regular interviews with political leaders
Dateline Current affairs focussing on international SBS primetime stories
Four Corners Long-form current affairs with regular stories ABC primetime about politics and political figures
60 Minutes Magazine style current affairs, longer form Ch 9 primetime broad social interest stories
Sunday Night Magazine style current affairs, longer form Ch 7 primetime broad social interest stories Q&A Studio panel program where a live audience ABC late night asks questions of politicians and public figures
The Project Studio variety-style panel program hosted by Ch 10 primetime comedians, personalities and intellectuals
Sunrise Variety-style soft news program Ch 7 morning The Today Show Variety-style soft news program Ch 9 morning The Chaser Satire program with frequent political content, ABC late night runs specials for every federal election
Annabel Crabb’s Entertainment program where a political ABC primetime Kitchen Cabinet journalist chats with politicians while they cook and eat together
The Insiders Studio panel show in which journalists and ABC morning commentators discuss the week in politics, interviews with politicians
Lateline Local and international news with emphasis ABC late night on politics, includes interviews with politicians
297
298
References
Aarts, K. and H. A. Semetko (2003) 'The Divided Electorate: Media Use and Political Involvement', The Journal of Politics, 65 (3): 759-784. Aberbach, J. D., J. D. Chesney and B. A. Rockman (1975) 'Exploring Elite Political Attitudes: Some Methodological Lessons', Political Methodology, 2 (1): 1-27. Aberbach, J. D. and B. A. Rockman (2002) 'Conducting and Coding Elite Interviews', PS: Political Science and Politics, 35 (4): 673-676. Abramowitz, A. I. and K. L. Saunders (2008) 'Is Polarization a Myth?', The Journal of Politics, 70 (02): 542-555. Aitkin, D. (1982) Stability and change in Australian politics. Canberra: Australian National University Press. Al Jazeera, (2017) Travel ban on Muslims to include social media "vetting", Al Jazeera. 1 February 2017. Alcorn, G. (2014) Victorian Labor says its victory has revolutionised politics The Guardian. 30 November, 2014. Anderson, F. (2013) What swinging voters want, The Australian Financial Review. 27 July 2013 Baer, D. (2016) 'The "Filter Bubble" Explains Why Trump Won and You Didn't See It Coming.' In New York Magazine. New York. Bai, M. (2016) 'The role of new media in shaping US politics.' In, edited by Centre, T. U. S. S. Sydney: University of Sydney. Bartels, L. M. (2000) 'Partisanship and voting behavior, 1952-1996', American Journal of Political Science, 44 (1): 35. Baum, M. A. (2002) 'Sex, Lies, and War: How Soft News Brings Foreign Policy to the Inattentive Public', The American Political Science Review, 96 (1): 91-109. Baym, G. (2009) 'Stephen Colbert’s Parody of the Postmodern' In Satire TV: Politics and Comedy in the Post-Network Era, in Gray, J., J. P. Jones and E. Thompson (ed.), New York: NYU Press: 124-144. Baym, G. and J. Jones (2013a) News parody and political satire across the globe. London ; New York: Routledge. Baym, G. and J. P. Jones (2013b) 'News Parody in Global Perspective: Politics, Power and Resistance', Popular Communication, 10 (1-2): 2-13. Bean, C., I. McAllister, J. Pietsch and R. Gibson (2014) 'The Australian Election Study 2013.' In. The Australian Data Archive: The Australian National University. Bean, C. and A. Mughan (1989) 'Leadership Effects in Parliamentary Elections in Australia and Britain', The American Political Science Review, 83 (4): 1165-1179. Bell, E. and O. Taylor (2017) The Platform Press: How Silicon Valley reengineered journalism. New York City: Tow Centre for Digital Journalism: Columbia Journalism School. Benewick, R. J., A. H. Birch, J. G. Blumler and A. Ewbank (1969) 'The Floating Voter and the Liberal View of Representation', Political Studies, 17 (2): 177-195.
299 Bennett, S. (1999) 'The Decline in Support for Australian Major Parties and the Prospect of Minority Government.' In, edited by Library, P. Canberra: The Australian Parliament. Bennett, S. C. (1996) Winning and losing : Australian national elections. Carlton South, Vic., Australia: Melbourne University Press. Bennett, S. E. (1989) 'Trends in Americans' Political Information, 1967-1987', American Politics Quarterly, 17 (4): 422-435. Bennett, W. L. (1998) '1998 Ithiel De Sola Pool Lecture: The UnCivic Culture: Communication, Identity, and the Rise of Lifestyle Politics', PS: Political Science and Politics, 31 (4): 741-761. ——— (2003) News : the politics of illusion. New York: Pearson Longman. Berelson, B. R., P. F. Lazarsfeld and W. N. McPhee (1954) Voting; a study of opinion formation in a presidential campaign. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Berger, A. A. (2000) Ads, Fads and Consumer Culture: Advertising's Impact on American Character and Society. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Berry, J. M. (2002) 'Validity and Reliability Issues in Elite Interviewing', PS: Political Science and Politics, 35 (4): 679-682. Blake, A. (2017) Donald Trump's fake case against the "fake news media", The Washington Post. 24 February 2017. Blondel, J. (1967) Voters, parties and leaders : the social fabric of British politics. Harmondsworth ; Baltimore etc.: Penguin. Blumler, J. G. (2001) 'The third age of political communication', Journal of Public Affairs (14723891), 1 (3): 201. Blumler, J. G. and M. Gurevitch (1995) 'Linkages between the mass media and politics' In The crisis of public communication, in Blumler, J. G. and M. Gurevitch (ed.), London ; New York: Routledge. Blumler, J. G. and M. Gurevitch (2005) 'Rethinking the Study of Political Communication' In Mass media and society, in Gurevitch, M. and J. Curran (ed.), London: Hodder Arnold. Blumler, J. G. and D. Kavanagh (1999) 'The third age of political communication: Influence and features', Political Communication, 16 (3): 209. Bond, S. (2017) "Failing" New York Times gets digital Trump boost, Financial Times. 3 February 2017. Bourdieu, P. (1993) 'Public Opinion Does Not Exist' In Sociology in Question(ed.), London: Sage: 149-154. ——— (1998) On television. New York: New Press. Bourke, L. (2015) ‘Why the 2016 federal election could be the "Facebook election"’, The Sydney Morning Herald. 30 October, 2015. Brennan, J. (2016) 'Trump won becuase voters are ignorant, literally.' In Foreign Policy. Washington D.C: The FP Group. Brennan, J. and L. Hill (2014) 'Should we force the drunk to drive the car?' In Compulsory voting - for and against, in Brennan, J. (ed.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Brown, E. T. (1940) Bread and power. London, Edinburgh etc.: W. Hodge and company, limited. Bruns, A. (2013) 'From homepages to network profiles: balancing personal and social identity' In A Companion to New Media Dynamics, in Hartley, J., J. Burgess and A. Bruns (ed.), Hoboken, NJ: Blackwell Publishing Ltd. Bryce, J. B. (1929) Modern democracies. New York: The Macmillan Company.
300 Burchell, D. (2002) 'Perpetual Disillusionment' In The Prince's New Clothes: Why do Australians dislike their politicians?, in Burchell, D. and A. Leigh (ed.), Sydney: UNSW Press: 62-77. Burns, C. (1961) Parties and people; a survey based on the La Trobe electorate. Parkville: Melbourne University Press. Burton, M. J. and D. M. Shea (2010) Campaign craft : the strategies, tactics, and art of political campaign management. Santa Barbara, Calif.: Praeger/ABC-CLIO. Cameron, R. (1973) 'Swingers: undecided mavericks v conformist switchers' In Labor to Power: Australia's 1972 Election, in Mayer, H. (ed.), Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Campbell, A., G. Gurin and W. E. Miller (1954) The voter decides. Evanston, Ill.,: Row. Campbell, A. C., Philip E.; Miller, Warren E.; Stokes, Donald E. (1960) The American voter. New York,: Wiley. Campbell, J. E. (2008) 'Do Swing Voters Swing Elections?' In The Swing Voter in American Politics, in Mayer, W. G. (ed.), Washington D.C.: Brookings: 118-132. Cassidy, B. (2010) The Party Thieves: The Real Story of the 2010 Election. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press. Cassidy, J. (2016) 'Hillary Clinton's "Basket of Deplorables" Gaffe.' In The New Yorker. New York: Conde Nast. Chadwick, A. (2006) Internet politics : states, citizens, and new communication technologies. New York: Oxford University Press. ——— (2013) The hybrid media system : politics and power. Oxford ; New York: Oxford University Press. Chaffee, S. H. and S. F. Kanihan (1997) 'Learning about politics from mass media', Political Communication, 14 (4): 421. Chait, J. (2016) 'Here's the real reason everybody thought Trump would lose.' In New York Magazine. New York: New York Times Ltd. Chan, S. (1997) 'Effects of Attention to Campaign Coverage on Political Trust', International Journal of Public Opinion Research, 9 (3): 286-296. Chapin, F. S. (1912) 'The Variability of the Popular Vote at Presidential Elections', American Journal of Sociology, 18 (2): 222-240. Chaples, E. (1985) 'Softly Committed Voters and the 1984 Election' In The Hawke Government: Past, Present, Future, in Jaensch, D. and N. Bierbaum (ed.), Canberra: Australian Political Studies Association: 178- 198. ——— (1997) 'The Australian Voters' In Politics in Australia, in Smith, R. (ed.), Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Chen, P. (2012) 'Media Politics' In Contemporary politics in Australia : theories, practices and issues, in Vromen, A., I. Cook and R. Smith (ed.), Port Melbourne, Vic.: Cambridge University Press: 95-104. Clubb, J. M., W. H. Flanigan and N. H. Zingale (1990) Partisan realignment : voters, parties, and government in American history. Boulder, Colo.: Westview Press. Clymer, A. and K. Kinneg (2008) 'Swing Voters? Hah! The Not Very "Persuadables" and the Not Really "Undecideds" in 2004' In The Swing Voter in American Politics, in Mayer, W. G. (ed.), Washington D.C.: Brookings: 112-117.
301 Coleman, S. (2005) 'Direct Representation: Towards a Conversational Democracy.' In, edited by (IPPR), I. f. P. P. R. London: Central Books. ——— (2006) 'How the other half votes', International Journal of Cultural Studies, 9 (4): 457-479. Collin, P. (2008) 'The internet, youth participation policies, and the development of young people's political identities in Australia', Journal of Youth Studies, 11 (5): 527-542. Connolly, W. E. (1983) The terms of political discourse. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Converse, P. E. (1962) 'Information Flow and the Stability of Partisan Attitudes', The Public Opinion Quarterly, 26 (4): 578-599. Couldry, N. (2012) Media, society, world : social theory and digital media practice. Cambridge ; Malden, MA: Polity. Couldry, N., S. M. Livingstone and T. Markham (2007) Media consumption and public engagement : beyond the presumption of attention. New York, N.Y.: Palgrave Macmillan. Crabb, A. (2005) Losing it : the inside story of the Labor Party in opposition. Sydney: Pan Macmillan Australia. Crick, B. (2002) Democracy : A very short introduction. Oxford ; New York: Oxford University Press. Crigler, A. C., M. Just, L. Hume, J. Mills and P. Hevron (2012) 'YouTube and TV Advertising Campaigns: Obama versus McCain in 2008' In iPolitics: Citizens, Elections and Governing in the New Media Era, in Fox, R. L. and J. Ramos (ed.), New York: Cambridge University Press: 103-124. Crisp, L. F. (1965) Australian national government. Melbourne: Longmans. Crosby, S. (2016) The Trust Defecit. Carlton: Melbourne University Press. Curran, J., S. Coen, S. Soroka, T. Aalberg, K. Hayashi, Z. Hichy, S. Iyengar, et al. (2014) 'Reconsidering ‘virtuous circle’ and ‘media malaise’ theories of the media: An 11-nation study', Journalism, 15 (7): 815-833. Cutler, F. (2002) 'The Simplest Shortcut of All: Sociodemographic Characteristics and Electoral Choice', Journal of Politics, 64 (2): 466-490. Dahl, R. A. (1961) Who governs? Democracy and power in an American city. New Haven,: Yale University Press. Dahlgren, P. (2009) Media and political engagement : citizens, communication, and democracy. Cambridge ; New York: Cambridge University Press. Dalton, P. D. (2006a) Swing Voters: Understanding Late-Deciders in Late- Modernity. Cresskill, NJ: Hampton Press, Inc. Dalton, R. J. (2000) 'Citizen attitudes and political behavior', Comparative Political Studies, 33 (6-7): 912-940. ——— (2006b) Citizen politics : public opinion and political parties in advanced industrial democracies. Washington, DC: CQ Press. ——— (2009a) The good citizen : how a younger generation is reshaping American politics. Washington, D.C.: CQ Press. ——— (2009b) 'Review Symposium: Parties, Partisanship and Democratic Politics, A response to Nancy Rosenblum's On the Side of Angels', Perspectives on Politics, 7 (3): 628-629. ——— (2013) The apartisan American : dealignment and changing electoral politics. Thousand Oaks, Calif.: CQ Press. Daudt, H. (1961) Floating voters and the floating vote; a critical analysis of American and English election studies. Leiden,: H.E. Stenfert Kroese.
302 Day, A. (2009) 'And Now…The News? Mimesis and the Real in The Daily Show' In Satire TV: Politics and Comedy in the Post-Network Era, in Gray, J., J. P. jones and E. Thompson (ed.), New York: NYU Press: 85-103. Delli Carpini, M. X. (2004) ' 'Mediating Democratic Engagement: The Impact of Communications on Citizens’ Involvement in Political and Civic Life'' In Handbook of Political Communication Research, in Kaid, L. L. (ed.), New York: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates: pp 395-434 Delli Carpini, M. X. and S. Keeter (1992) 'The Public's Knowledge of Poltiics' In Public Opinion, The Press and Public Policy, in Kennamer, D. (ed.), Westport: Praeger Publishers. ——— (1996) What Americans Know About Poltiics and Why It Matters. New Haven: Yale University Press. Devine, T. (2013) 'Paid Media: In an Era of Rapid and Revolutionary Change' In Campaings on the Cutting Edge, in Semiatin, R. J. (ed.), Loss Angeles: Sage: 28-47. Dewey, J. (1927) The public and its problems, an essay in political inquiry. Chicago,: Gateway Books. Dickenson, J. (2013) Trust me : Australians and their politicians. Sydney: NewSouth Publishing. Dimock, M., A. Clark and J. Menasce Horowitz (2008) 'Campaign Dynamics and the Swing Vote in the 2004 Election' In The Swing Voter in American Politics, in Mayer, W. G. (ed.), Washington D.C.: Brookings. Dole, C. F. (1891) The citizen and the neighbor. Boston,: Unitarian Sunday- school society. Downs, A. (1957) An economic theory of democracy. New York: HarperCollins. Duggan, T., N. Ackland and S. Richards (2014) 'Appetite for Distraction: How Australian youth are adapting to a future their parents could never have predicted'. Sydney. El-Bermawy, M. (2016) 'Your Filter Bubble is Destroying Democracy.' In Wired. San Francsisco: Conde Nast. Eldersveld, S. J. (1952) 'The Independent Vote: Measurement, Characteristics, and Implications for Party Strategy', The American Political Science Review, 46 (3): 732-753. Eliasoph, N. (1998) Avoiding politics : how Americans produce apathy in everyday life. Cambridge, UK ; New York, NY, USA: Cambridge University Press. Ellis, B. (2009) And so it went : night thoughts in a year of change. Camberwell, Vic.: Viking. Errington, W. and N. Miragliotta (2007) Media and politics : an introduction. South Melbourne, Vic.: Oxford University Press. Facebook 'Facebook Hot Topics June 2016.' Accessed 8 July 2016. https://insights.fb.com/2016/06/14/hot-topics-australia-june-2016/. Farr, M. (2007) Rudd ahead becuase he is "genuine", The Advertiser. 6 August 2007. Faucheux, R. (2003) 'The 30-30 Nation', Campaigns and Elections, 24 (6): 7. Fiorina, M. P. (1990) 'Information and the Rationality of Elections' In Information and Democratic Processes, in Ferejohn, J. A. and J. H. Kuklinkski (ed.), Chicago: University of Illinois Press.
303 ——— (1999) '“Extreme Voices: A Dark Side of Civic Engagement”' In Civic Engagement in American Democracy, in Fiorina, M. P. and T. Skocpol (ed.), Washington DC: , Brookings Institution. Fiorina, M. P., S. J. Abrams and J. Pope (2006) Culture war? : the myth of a polarized America. New York: Pearson Education. Foa, R. S. and Y. Mounk (2016) 'The Democratic Disconnect', The Journal of Democracy, 27 (3): 5-17. Fox News, F. (2016) 'Bill Clinton calls Trump supporters "standard rednecks".' In Fox News Insider. Fox News. Franklin, B. (1994) Packaging Politics: Political Communications in Britain's Media Democracy. London: Hodder Headline. Fyfe, I. (2009) 'Researching youth political participation in Australia: arguments for an expanded focus', Youth Studies Australia, 28 (1): 37-45. Gallie, W. B. (1955) 'Essentially Contested Concepts', Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 56167-198. Gamson, W. A. (1988) 'Political discourse and collective action' In From Structure to Action: Comparing Social Movement Reserach Across Cultures, in Klandermans, B., H. Kriesi and S. Tarrow (ed.), Grenwich, CT: JAI Press: 219-246. ——— (1992) Talking politics. Cambridge [England] ; New York, NY, USA: Cambridge University Press. ——— (1998) 'Media Discourse as a Framing Resource' In The Psychology of Political Communication, in Crigler, A. C. (ed.), Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press: 111-132. Gauja, A. (2012) 'Participation and representation through political parties' In Contemporary Politics in Australia: Theories, Practices and Issies, in Vromen, A., I. Cook and R. Smith (ed.), Port Melbourne: Cambridge University Press. Gearing, A. (2016) 'Global Investigative Journalism in the Network Society', Queensland University of Technology. GetUp! (2016), Accessed 05/11/2016. http://www.getup.org.au/. Gilens, M., L. Vavreck and M. Cohen (2007) 'The Mass Media and the Public's Assessments of Presidential Candidates, 1952–2000', Journal of Politics, 69 (4): 1160-1175. Gittins, R. (1990) Turning off even the swinging voter, The Sydney Morning Herald. 14 March 1990. Goot, M. (2001) 'The identikit fallacy...of the problem with 'Phil and Jenny'', Australian Journalism Review, 23 (2): 119-127. ——— (2002) 'Distrustful, Disenchanted and Disengaged? Public opinon on politics, politicians and the parties: An historical perspective' In The Prince's New Clothes: Why do Australians dislike their politicians?, in Burchell, D. and A. Leigh (ed.), Sydney: UNSW Press: 9-46. ——— (2005) 'Politicians, public policy and poll following: Conceptual difficulties and empirical realities', Australian Journal of Political Science, 40 (2): 189-205. Graber, D. A. (1990) 'Seeing Is Remembering: How Visuals Contribute to Learning from Television News', Journal of Communication, 40 (3): 134- 156. ——— (2001) Processing politics : learning from television in the Internet age. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
304 Gray, J. (2008) Television entertainment. New York ; London: Routledge. Gray, J., J. P. Jones and E. Thompson (2009) 'The State of Satire, the Satire of State' In Satire TV: Politics and Comedy in the Post-Network Era, in Gray, J., J. P. Jones and E. Thompson (ed.), New York: NYU Press: 3-36. Green, D. P., B. Palmquist and E. Schickler (2002) Partisan hearts and minds : political parties and the social identities of voters. New Haven, Conn. ; London: Yale University Press. Gustafsson, N. and Y. Breindl (2010) 'Leetocracy: Networked Poltiical Activism and the Continuation of Elitism in Competitive Democracy' In Nexus: New Intersections in Internet Reserach, in Araya, D., Y. Breindl and T. J. Houghton (ed.): Peter Lang Publishing Group. Habermas, J. (1974) 'The Public Sphere', New German Critique, 1 (3): 44-55. ——— (1989) The structural transformation of the public sphere : an inquiry into a category of bourgeois society. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. ——— (2006) 'Political Communication in Media Society: Does Democracy Still Enjoy an Epistemic Dimension? The Impact of Normative Theory on Empirical Research1', Communication Theory, 16 (4): 411-426. Hall, C. A. (2005) The trouble with passion : political theory beyond the reign of reason. New York: Routledge. Hall, S. (1975) Television as a medium and its relation to culture: Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, University of Birmingham. Hanson, R. L. (1985) The democratic imagination in America : conversations with our past. Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press. ——— (1989) 'Democracy' In Political Innovation and Conceptual Change, in Ball, T., J. Farr and R. L. Hanson (ed.), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 68-89. Harrington, S. (2013) Australian TV news : new forms, functions, and futures. Bristol, UK: Intellect. Harris, A., J. Wyn and S. Younes (2010) 'Beyond apathetic or activist youth: 'Ordinary' young people and contemporary forms of participation', Young, 18 (9): 9-32. Harris, L. and P. Harrigan (2015) 'Social Media in Politics: The Ultimate Voter Engagement Tool or Simply an Echo Chamber?', Journal of Political Marketing, 14 (3): 251-283. Harrison, L. (2001) Political research : an introduction. London ; New York: Routledge. Hart, R. P. (1999) Seducing America : how television charms the modern voter. Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications. Hartcher, P. (2008) To the Bitter End. Sydney: Allen and Unwin. ——— (2011a) The focus proved unfocused, The Sydney Morning Herald. 5 February 2011. ——— (2011b) Game over, comrade, The Sydney Morning Herald. 10 September 2011. Hartley, J. (1996) Popular reality : journalism, modernity, popular culture. London, New York: St. Martin's Press. ——— (1999) Uses of television. London ; New York: Routledge. Hay, C. (2007) Why we hate politics. Cambridge ; Malden, MA: Polity Press. ——— (2009) 'Disenchanted with democracy, pissed off with politics', British Politics, 4 (1): 92-99.
305 Hayes, B. C. and I. McAllister (1996) 'Marketing Politics to Voters: late deciders in the 1992 British Election', European Journal of Marketing, 30 (10/11): 127-139. Heath, A. and R. Topf (1987) 'Political Culture' In British Social Attitudes: The 1987 Report, in Jowel, R., S. Witherspoon and L. Brook (ed.), London: Gower. Heller, N. (2016) 'The Failure of Facebook Democracy.' In The New Yorker. New York, NY. Herman, J. (2016) 'Inside Facebook's (Totally Insane, Unintentionally Gigantic, Hyperpartisan) Political-Media Machine.' In New York Times Magazine. New York: New York Times. Hessan, D. (2016) Understanding the undecided voters, The Boston Globe. 21 November 2016. Hibbing, J. R. and E. Theiss-Morse (2002) Stealth Democracy: Americans' beliefs about how government should work. New York: Cambridge University Press,. Highfield, T. (2013) 'National and state-level politics on social media; Twitter, Australian political discussions, and the online commentariat', International Journal of Electronic Governance, 6 (4): 342-360. ——— (2016) Social media and everyday politics. Cambridge, UK ; Malden, MA: Polity. Hillygus, D. S. and T. G. Shields (2008) The persuadable voter : wedge issues in presidential campaigns. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Hoare, D. (2004) Divining a conscience vote, The Australian. 24 September 2004. Hollander, B. A. (2005) 'Late-Night Learning: Do Entertainment Programs Increase Political Campaign Knowledge for Young Viewers?', Journal of Broadcasting & Electronic Media, 49 (4): 402-415. Horan, P. M. (1971) 'Social Positions and Political Cross-Pressures: A Re- Examination', American Sociological Review, 36 (4): 650-660. Huang, J., S. Jacoby, M. Strickland and K. K. R. Lai (2016) Election 2016: Exit Polls, The New York Times. 8 November, 2016. Huddleston, T., Jr. (2016) 'The New York Times has 132,000 Reasons to Thank Donald Trump.' In Fortune. Hussey, L. S. (2012) 'Polarized politics and citizen disengagement: the role of [US] belief systems', American Politics Research, 40 (1): 85-115. Hyland, T. and J. Gordon (2011) Dumb and dumber: why Australian politics is broken, The Sydney Morning Herald. 20 February 2011. Inglehart, R. (1971) 'The Silent Revolution in Europe: Intergenerational Change in Post-Industrial Societies', The American Political Science Review, 65 (4): 991-1017. ——— (1981) 'Post-Materialism in an Environment of Insecurity', The American Political Science Review, 75 (4): 880-900. ——— (2006) 'Ronald Inglehart. 1971. "The Silent Revolution in Europe: Intergenerational Change in Post-industrial Societies." "American Political Science Review" 65 (December): 991-1017', The American Political Science Review, 100 (4): 685. Issenberg, S. (2013) The victory lab : the secret science of winning campaigns. New York: B/D/W/Y, Broadway Books. Iyengar, S. and D. R. Kinder (1987) News that matters : television and American opinion. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
306 Iyengar, S. and A. F. Simon (2000) 'New perspectives and evidence on political communication and campaign effects', Annual Review of Psychology, 51 (1): 149. Jackman, C. (2008) Inside Kevin07 : the people, the plan, the prize. Carlton, Vic.: Melbourne University Publishing. Jackman, S. (1999) 'Non-compulsory voting in Australia?: what surveys can (and can't) tell us', Electoral Studies, 18 (1): 29-48. Jacobson, S., E. Myung and S. L. Johnson (2016) 'Open media or echo chamber: the use of links in audience discussions on the Facebook Pages of partisan news organizations', Information, Communication & Society, 19 (7): 875- 891. Jaensch, D. (1995) Election! : how and why Australia votes. St Leonards, N.S.W.: Allen & Unwin. Jarvey, N. (2017) 'President Obama's farewell tweet sets new retweet record.' In The Hollywood Reporter. LA: Hollywood Reporter-Billboard Media Group. Jenkins, H. (2006) Convergence culture : where old and new media collide. New York: New York University Press. ——— (2009) 'Why Mitt Romney Won’t Debate a Snowman' In Satire TV: Politics and Comedy in the Post-Network Era, in Gray, J., J. P. Jones and E. Thompson (ed.), New York: NYU Press: 187-209. JMP (2013) 'Statistical Software: Version 12.'; SAS Institute, Cary, NC. Johnson, C. and J. Wanna (2015) 'Reflections on Abbott's Gambit - Mantras, manipulation and mandates' In Abbott's Gambit: The 2013 Australian Federal Election, in Johnson, C., J. Wanna and H.-A. Lee (ed.), Canberra: ANU Press: 425 - 436. Jones, A. (2001) Dissenters do Howard no favours, The Australian Financial Review. 6 November, 2001. Jones, J. (2005a) 'Audience Engagement with Politically Incorrect' In The Political Communication Reader, in Negrine, R. and J. Stanyer (ed.), New York: Routledge. Jones, J. M. (2008) 'Swing Voters in the Gallup Poll, 1944 - 2004' In The Swing Voter in American Politics, in Mayer, W. G. (ed.), Washington D.C.: Brookings: 32-57. Jones, J. P. (2005b) Entertaining politics : new political television and civic culture. Lanham, Md.: Rowman & Littlefield. Jones, P. and M. Pusey (2008) 'Mediated Political Communication in Australia: leading issues, new evidence', Australian Journal of Social Issues, 43 (4): 583-599,525. Jones, P. K. and M. Pusey (2010) 'Political communication and ‘media system’: the Australian canary', Media, Culture & Society, 32 (3): 451-471. Jory, R. (2013) The undecided voters, the wobblers, are at once reviled, despised and worshipped by political parties, The Advertiser. 22 July 2013. Joseph, G. (2015) 'Feds regularly monitored Black Lives Matter since Ferguson.' In The Intercept. NYC: First Look Media. Katz, E. (1957) 'The Two-Step Flow of Communication: An Up-To-Date Report on an Hypothesis', The Public Opinion Quarterly, 21 (1): 61-78. Katz, E. and P. F. Lazarsfeld (1955) Personal influence; the part played by people in the flow of mass communications. Glencoe, Ill.,: Free Press; Columbia University. Bureau of Applied Social Research.
307 Keane, J. (2009) The life and death of democracy. New York: W.W. Norton & Co. Keith, B. E. (1992) The myth of the independent voter. Berkeley: University of California Press. Kelley, S. (1983) Interpreting Elections. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Kelly, P. (2014) Triumph and demise : the broken promise of a Labor generation. Kemp, D. (1973) 'Swingers and stayers: the Australian swinging voter' In Labor to Power: Australia's 1972 Election, in Mayer, H. (ed.), Sydney: Allen and Unwin. Kemp, D. (1978) Society and electoral behaviour in Australia : a study of three decades. St. Lucia, Qld.: University of Queensland Press. Kennamer, D. (1987) 'How Media Use During Campaign Affects the Intent to Vote', Journalism Quarterly, 64 (2): 291-300. Kennamer, J. D. (1992) Public opinion, the press, and public policy. Westport, Conn.: Praeger. Kerr, C. (2007) Undecideds hold the key, The Courier Mail. 18 November, 2007. Key, V. O. (1958) Politics, parties, and pressure groups. New York,: Crowell. Key, V. O. (1966) The Responsible Electorate: Rationality in Presidential Voting 1936-1960. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. Kim, J., R. O. Wyatt and E. Katz (1999) 'News, Talk, Opinion, Participation: The Part Played by Conversation in Deliberative Democracy', Political Communication, 16 (4): 361-385. Kinder, D. R. (2003) 'Communication and Politics in the Age of Information' In Oxford Handbook of Political Science, in Sears, D. O., L. Huddy and R. Jervis (ed.), Oxford: Oxford University Press: 357-393. Kirby, E. J. (2016) 'The city getting rich from fake news.' In BBC Magazine. London: BBC. Klapper, J. T. (1960) 'The effects of mass communication' Thesis, Columbia University. Kurtz, H. (2012) 'How the media trivialize the election.' In CNN. Atlanta, GA: Turner Broadcasting System. Lallo, M. (2014) Julia Gillard more popular than John Howard and Home and Away, The Newcastle Herald. 24 September 2014. Landemore, H. l. n. (2013) Democratic reason : politics, collective intelligence, and the rule of the many. Princeton ; Oxford: Princeton University Press. Lariscy, R. W., E. J. Avery, K. D. Sweetser and P. Howes (2009) 'An examination of the role of online social media in journalists’ source mix', Public Relations Review, 35 (3): 314-316. Lavine, H., C. D. Johnston and M. R. Steenbergen (2012) The ambivalent partisan : how critical loyalty promotes democracy. New York, NY: Oxford University Press. Lazarsfeld, P. F., B. Berelson and H. Gaudet (1944) The People's Choice: How the Voter Makes up His Mind in a Presidential Campaign. NYC: Columbia University Press. Lazarsfeld, P. F., B. Berelson and H. Gaudet (1948) The people's choice; how the voter makes up his mind in a presidential campaign. New York,: Columbia Univ. Press. Leigh, A. (2010) Disconnected. Sydney: University of New South Wales Press. Levin, S. (2016) ACLU finds social media sites gave data to company tracking black protesters, The Guardian. 12 October 2016.
308 Levine, D. P. (2011) The capacity for civic engagement : public and private worlds of the self. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Lewis, J. (2001) Constructing public opinion : how political elites do what they like and why we seem to go along with it. New York: Columbia University Press. Lilleker, D. G. (2003) 'Interviewing the Political Elite: Navigating a Potential Minefield', Politics, 23 (3): 207-214. Lippmann, W. (1922) Public opinion. New York,: Harcourt. Lipset, S. M. (1960) Political man; the social bases of politics. Garden City, N.Y.,: Doubleday. Littleton, C. (2017) '"Saturday Night LIve" flexes post-election ratings muscle.' In Variety. Los Angeles: Penske Media Corporation. Livingstone, S. (2008) 'The Changing Nature of Audiences' In A Companion to Media Studies, in Valdivia, A. N. (ed.), Malden, MA: Blackwell. Livingstone, S. M. (2005) 'Critical Debates in Internet Studies: Reflections on an Emerging Field' In Mass media and society, in Gurevitch, M. and J. Curran (ed.), London: Hodder Arnold. Livingstone, S. M. and P. K. Lunt (1994) Talk on television : audience participation and public debate. London ; New York: Routledge. Loader, B. D., A. Vromen and M. A. Xenos (2015) 'Performing for the young networked citizen? Celebrity politics, social networking and the political engagement of young people', Media, Culture & Society, 38 (3): 400-419. Lowell, A. L. (1898) 'Oscillations in Politics', Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 1269-97. Lupia, A. (1994) 'Shortcuts Versus Encyclopedias: Information and Voting Behavior in California Insurance Reform Elections', The American Political Science Review, 88 (1): 63-76. MacCallum, M. (2013) The mad marathon : the story of the 2013 election. Macedo, S. and Y. M. Alex-Assensoh (2005) Democracy at risk : how political choices undermine citizen participation and what we can do about it. Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press. Mackerras, M. and I. McAllister (1999) 'Compulsory voting, party stability and electoral advantage in Australia', Electoral Studies, 18 (2): 217-233. Manheim, J. B., R. C. Rich, L. Willnat and C. L. Brians (2008) Empirical Political Analysis: Quantitative and Qualitative Methods. New York: Pearson. Manning, H. (2006) 'Voters and Voting' In Government, Politics, Power and Policy in Australia, in Parkin, A., J. Summers and D. Woodward (ed.), Frenchs Forest: Pearson Education Australia: 280-308. ——— (2009) 'Swinging Voters in the Electoral Landscape - from the Late 1960s to the Present', AQ - Australian Quarterly, 81 (5): 25 -30. ——— (2014) 'Voters and voting' In Government adn Poltiics in Australia, in Fenna, A., J. Robins and J. Summers (ed.), Frenches Forest: Pearson Australia: 222-239. Marcus, G. E. (2002) The sentimental citizen : emotion in democratic politics. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press. Marr, D. (2017) 'The White Queen', Quarterly Essay (66). Mayer, W. G. (2007) 'The Swing Voter in American Presidential Elections', American Politics Research, 35358-388.
309 ——— (2008a) The swing voter in American politics. Washington, D.C.: Brookings. ——— (2008b) 'What Exactly Is a Swing Voter? Definition and Measurement' In The Swing Voter in American Politics, in Mayer, W. G. (ed.), Washington D.C.: Brookings: 1-31. Mazzoleni, G. and W. Schulz (1999) '"Mediatization" of Politics: A Challenge for Democracy?', Political Communication, 16 (3): 247-261. McAllister, I. (1998) 'Civic Education and Political Knowledge in Australia', Australian Journal of Political Science, 33 (1): 7-23. ——— (2002) 'Calculating or capricious? The new politics of late deciding voters' In Do Political Campaigns Matter? Campaign Effects in Elections and Referendums, in Farrell, D. M. and R. Schmitt-Beck (ed.), London and New York: Routledge: 22-40. ——— (2011) The Australian Voter. Sydney: UNSW Press. McAllister, I. and S. Cameron (2014) 'Trends in Australian Political Opinion: Results from teh Australian Election Study, 1987-2013'. Canberra. McAllister, I. and J. Ravenhill (2014) 'Dissatisfied Democrats', The Civic Culture Transformed: From Allegiant to Assertive Citizens116. McCarty, N. M., K. T. Poole and H. Rosenthal (2006) Polarized America : the dance of ideology and unequal riches. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. McChesney, R. W. (1999) Rich media, poor democracy : communication politics in dubious times. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. McCombs, M. E., L. Holbert, S. Kiousis and W. Wanta (2011) The news and public opinion : media effects on civic life. Cambridge: Polity Press. McCoy, T. (2016) For the "new yellow journalists", opportunity comes in clicks and bucks, The Washington Post. 20 November, 2016. McGee, M. C. (1978) '"Not men, but measures": the origins and import of an ideological principle', Quarterly Journal of Speech, 64 (2): 141. McGuinness, P. P. (1996) It's time for Labor to get behind the GST, The Sydney Morning Herald. 13 July 1996. McKee, A. (2005) The public sphere : an introduction. Cambridge ; New York, NY: Cambridge University Press. McKelvey, R. D. and P. C. Ordeshook (1986) 'Information, Elections, and the Democratic Ideal', Journal of Politics, 48909-937. McKuen, M. (1990) 'Speaking of politics: Individual conversational choice, public opinion, and the prospects of deliberative democracy' In Information and Democratic Processes, in Ferejohn, J. A. and J. H. Kuklinkski (ed.), Urbana: University of Illinois Press: 59-99. McLuhan, M. (1964) Understanding media; the extensions of man. New York,: McGraw-Hill. McNair, B. (2000) Journalism and democracy : an evaluation of the political public sphere. London ; New York: Routledge. ——— (2003) An introduction to political communication. London ; New York: Routledge. ——— (2006) Cultural chaos : journalism, news, and power in a globalised world. New York: Routledge. McQuail, D. (2010) McQuail's mass communication theory. Los Angeles ; London: SAGE. Meekosha, H. and L. Dowse (1997) 'Enabling Citizenship: Gender, disability and citizenship in Australia', Feminist Review, 57 (1): 49-72.
310 Megalogenis, G. (2010) 'Trivial pursuit: Leadership and the end of the reform era', The Quarterly Essay (40). Meyer, T. and L. P. Hinchman (2002) Media democracy : how the media colonize politics. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press ; Malden Blackwell. Micheletti, M. (2003) Political virtue and shopping : individuals, consumerism, and collective action. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Miller, A. H., M. P. Wattenberg and O. Malanchuk (1986) 'Schematic Assessments of Presidential Candidates', The American Political Science Review, 80 (2): 521-540. Mills, S. (1986) The new machine men : polls and persuasion in Australian politics. Ringwood, Vic., Australia ; New York, N.Y., U.S.A.: Penguin Books. ——— (2012) 'Campaigns and Campaign Funding' In Contemporary Politics in Australia: Theories, Practices and Issues, in Vromen, A., I. Cook and R. Smith (ed.), Port Melbourne: Cambridge University Press: 142-152. ——— (2014a) The Professionals : strategy, money & the rise of the political campaigner in Australia. ——— (2014b) 'Rules for Radicals comes to Carrum ' In Inside Story. Millspaugh, A. C. (1918) 'Irregular Voting in the United States', Political Science Quarterly, 33 (2): 230-254. Milne, R. S. and H. C. Mackenzie (1955) 'The Floating Vote', Political Studies, 3 (1): 65-77. Milne, R. S. and H. C. Mackenzie (1958) Marginal seat, 1955; a study of voting behaviour in the constituency of Bristol North East at the general election of 1955, by R. S. Milne and H. C. Mackenzie. London,: Hansard Society for Parliamentary Governmet. Miragliotta, N. (2014) 'Minor Parties and Independents' In Government and Politics in Australia, in Fenna, A., J. Robins and J. Summers (ed.), Frenchs Forest: Pearson Australia: 206-221. Mitchelmore, T. (2015) Swinging voters hate leaders who take them for a ride, The Sydney Morning Herald. 2 February 2015. Morreale, J. (2009) 'Jon Stewart and The Daily Show: I thought you were going to be funny!' In Satire TV: Politics and Comedy in the Post-Network Era, in Gray, J., J. P. Jones and E. Thompson (ed.), New York: NYU Press: 104- 123. Moy, P., M. A. Xenos and V. K. Hess (2005) 'Communication and Citizenship: Mapping the Political Effects of Infotainment', Mass Communication & Society, 8 (2): 111-131. Murphy, K. (2001) It's a very different debate in the bush, The Australian Financial Review. 20 August 2001. Mutz, D. C. (1989) 'The influence of perceptions of media influence: third person effects and the public expression of opinions', International Journal of Public Opinion Research, 1 (1): 3-23. 'My Opinions.' https://www.myopinions.com.au/. Negrine, R. (2007) The professionalisation of political communication. Bristol, UK ; Chicago: Intellect. Negrine, R. M. and J. Stanyer (2007) The political communication reader. London: Routledge.
311 Nelson, C. J. (2013) 'Polling in the Twenty-First Century: Part Past, Part Future' In Campaigns on the Cutting Edge, in Semiatin, R. J. (ed.), Los Angeles: Sage: 65-80. Neuman, W. R. (1986) The paradox of mass politics : knowledge and opinion in the American electorate. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Ngak, C. (2012) 'Obama "four more years" tweet becomes No. 1 retweet.' In CBS News Online. New York City: CBS. Nicholson, J. (1968) 'The Swinging Vote' In Politics in a suburban community; the N.S.W. State election in Manly, 1965, in Power, J. M. (ed.), Sydney: Sydney University Press. Niemi, R. G. and H. F. Weisberg (1976) 'Are Parties Becoming Irrelevant?' In Controversies in American Voting Behavior, in Niemi, R. G. and H. F. Weisberg (ed.), San Francisco: W.H. Freeman and Company. Norris, P. (1996) 'Does Television Erode Social Capital? A Reply to Putnam', PS: Political Science and Politics, 29 (3): 474-480. ——— (1999) Critical citizens : global support for democratic government. Oxford England ; New York: Oxford University Press. ——— (2000) A virtuous circle : political communications in postindustrial societies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ——— (2001) Digital divide : civic engagement, information poverty, and the Internet worldwide: Cambridge University Press. ——— (2002) 'Do campaign communications matter for civic engagement? American elections from Eisenhower to George W. Bush' In Do Political Campaigns Matter? Campaign effects in elections and referendums, in Farrell, D. M. and R. Schmitt-Beck (ed.), London and New York: Routledge: 127-144. ——— (2011) Democratic deficit : critical citizens revisited. New York: Cambridge University Press. Nye, J. S. (1997) 'The Decline in Cofidence in Government' In Why People Don't Trust Government, in Nye, J. S., P. Zelikow and D. C. King (ed.), Harvard: Harvard University Press: 1-18. O'Toole, T., M. Lister, D. Marsh, S. Jones and A. McDonagh (2003) 'Tuning out or left out? Participation and non-participation among young people', Contemporary Politics, 9 (1): 45-61. O'Toole, T., D. Marsh and S. Jones (2003) 'Political Literacy Cuts Both Ways: The Politics of Non-participation among Young People', The Political Quarterly, 74 (3): 349-360. Ogburn, W. F. and A. J. Jaffe (1936) 'Independent Voting in Presidential Elections', American Journal of Sociology, 42 (2): 186-201. Ohlheiser, A. (2017) Last weekend's news, in two filter bubbles, The Washinton Post. 30 January 2017. Onselen, P. and W. Errington (2004) 'Electoral databases: big brother or democracy unbound?', Australian Journal of Political Science, 39 (2): 349-366. Overington, C. (2007) Renovations, and faith in PM, put on hold, The Australian. 9 August 2007. Owens, J. (2013) Knee-jerk reactions to burning issues sting: Election 2013, The Australian. 5 June 2013. Page, B. I. and R. Y. Shapiro (1992) The rational public : fifty years of trends in Americans' policy preferences. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
312 Paine, C. (2015) Mike Baird live tweeting the Bachelor is better than watching the Bachelor, The Huffington Post Australia. 15 July 2015. Parry-Giles, T. (2010) 'Resisting a "Treacherous piety": Issues, images and public policy deliberation in presidential campaigns.' In, Rhetoric and Public Affairs, 37-63. Michigan State University Press. Patrick, A. (2013) Downfall : how the Labor Party ripped itself apart: Australian Broadcasting Corporation. Patterson, T. E. (1993) Out of order. New York: A. Knopf. ——— (2000) 'Doing Well and Doing Good: How Soft News and Critical Journalism Are Shrinking the News Audience and Weakening Democracy - And What News Outlets Can Do About It.', edited by Joan Shorenstein Center on the Press, P. a. P. P., John F. Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University. Cambridge, MA: Joan Shorenstein Center on the Press, Politics and Public Policy, John F. Kennedy School of Government, Harvard University. Paul, K. (1997) Whitewashing Britain : race and citizenship in the postwar era. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press. Payne, A. (2016) 'This chart shows how critical undecided voters are for Britain to remain in the EU.' In Business Insider. New York City: Axel Springer. Peterson, T. (1956) 'The Social Responsibility Theory of the Press' In Four Theories of the Press, in Siebert, F. S., T. Peterson and W. Schramm (ed.), Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press: 73-103. Petrocik, J. R. (2009) 'Measuring party support: Leaners are not independents', Electoral Studies, 28 (4): 562-572. Popkin, S. L. (1991) The reasoning voter : communication and persuasion in presidential campaigns. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Postman, N. (1986) Amusing ourselves to death : public discourse in the age of show business. London: Heinemann. Prandy, K. (2002) 'Ideal types, stereotypes and classes', The British Journal of Sociology, 53 (4): 583-601. Prior, M. (2003) 'Any Good News in Soft News? The Impact of Soft News Preference on Political Knowledge', Political Communication, 20 (2): 149- 171. ——— (2007) Post-broadcast democracy : how media choice increases inequality in political involvement and polarizes elections. New York ; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Prokhovnik, R. (1998) 'Public and Private Citizenship: From Gender Invisibility to Feminist Inclusiveness', Feminist Review (60): 84-104. Pulzer, P. G. J. (1967) Political representation and elections in Britain. London,: Allen & Unwin. Putnam, R. D. (1995) 'Tuning In, Tuning Out: The Strange Disappearance of Social Capital in America', PS: Political Science and Politics, 28 (4): 664- 683. ——— (2000) Bowling alone : the collapse and revival of American community. New York ; London: Simon & Schuster. Rawson, D. W. (1961) Australia votes : the 1958 Federal election. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press on behalf of the Australian National University. Rayner, J. and J. Wanna (2015) 'An Overview of the 2013 Federal Election Campaign: Ruinous politics, cynical adversarialism and contending
313 agendas' In Abbott's Gambit: The 2013 Australian Federal Election, in Johnson, C., J. Wanna and H.-A. Lee (ed.), Canberra: ANU Press. Remeikis, A. (2017) Unexpected guests at One Nation party, The Sydney Morning Herald. 1 March 2017. Richards, D. (1996) 'Elite Interviewing: Approaches and Pitfalls', Politics, 16 (3): 199-204. Ritchie, J. and J. Lewis (2003) Qualitative research practice : a guide for social science students and researchers. London: SAGE. Rolfe, M. (2016) 'The Populist Elements of Australian Political Satire and the Debt to the Americans of the Augustans' In The Politics of Satire: Heritage and Practice, in Davis, J. M. (ed.), London: Palgrave Comedy Research Book Series, Palgrave. Rosenblum, N. L. (2008) On the side of the angels : an appreciation of parties and partisanship. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Rubin, J. (2014) Media trivialize deadly serious issues, The Washington Post. 15 September 2014. Rydon, J. (1963) 'The Electorate' In Forces in Australian Politics, in Wilkes, J. (ed.), Sydney: Angus and Robinson: 167-204. Sabato, L. (2000) Feeding frenzy : attack journalism and American politics. Baltimore, Md.: Lanahan Publishers. Salter, D. (2007) The media we deserve : underachievement in the Fourth Estate. Carlton, Vic.: Melbourne University Press. Sawer, M. and B. Hindess (2004) Us and them : anti-elitism in Australia. Perth, W.A.: API Network, Australia Research Institute, Curtin University of Technology. Scheuer, J. (1999) The sound bite society : television and the American mind. New York: Four Walls Eight Windows. Scheufele, D. A. (2002) 'Examining Differential Gains from Mass Media and their Implications for Participatory Behavior', Communication Research, 29 (1): 46-65. Schudson, M. (1999) 'The Social Construction of the "Informed Citizen"', The Good Society, 9 (1): 30-35. ——— (2002) The good citizen : a history of American civic life. Cambridge, Mass. ; London: Harvard University Press. ——— (2007) 'Citizens, Consumers, and the Good Society', The Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, 611236-249. Scott, S. (2009) Obama man's keys to success, The Australian Financial Review. 30 July 2009. Semiatin, R. J. (2013) 'Voter Mobilization - Into the Future' In Campaigns on the Cutting Edge, in Semiatin, R. J. (ed.), Los Angeles: Sage: 81-99. Senior, P. and P. van Onselen (2008) 'Re-examining leader effects: Have leader effects grown in australian federal elections 1990-2004?', Australian Journal of Political Science, 43 (2): 225. Shadegg, S. C. (1964) How to win an election; the art of political victory. New York,: Taplinger. Shaw, D. R. (2008) 'Swing Voting and U.S. Presidential Elections' In The Swing Voter in American Politics, in Mayer, W. G. (ed.), Washington D.C.: Brookings: 75-101. Shenkman, R. (2016) 'Just how stupid can America be? Facing the truth about Donald Trump's big voting bloc.' In Alternet.
314 Sheppard, J. (2015) 'Compulsory voting and political knowledge: Testing a ‘compelled engagement’ hypothesis', Electoral Studies, 40300-307. Shirky, C. (2011) 'The Political Power of Social Media: Technology, the Public Sphere, and Political Change', Foreign Affairs, 90 (1): 28-41. Silverman, C. and L. Alexander (2016) 'How Teens in the Balkans are Duping Trump Supporters with Fake News.' In BuzzFeed News. Simons, M. (2007) The content makers : understanding the media in Australia. Camberwell, Vic.: Penguin Group (Australia). Skinner, Q. (2002) Visions of politics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Skocpol, T. (2003) Diminished democracy : from membership to management in American civic life. Norman, [Okla.]: University of Oklahoma Press. Skocpol, T. and M. P. Fiorina (1999) Civic engagement in American democracy. Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press. Smith, H. (1988) Power Games: How Washington Works. New York: Random House. Soroka, S., B. Andrew, T. Aalberg, S. Iyengar, J. Curran, S. Coen, K. Hayashi, et al. (2013) 'Auntie Knows Best? Public Broadcasters and Current Affairs Knowledge', British Journal of Political Science, 43 (04): 719-739. Spence, E. H. (2011) Media, markets, and morals. Malden, MA: Wiley- Blackwell. Spies-Butcher, B. (2012) 'Voter Behaviour' In Contemporary Politics in Australia: Theories, Practices and Issues, in Vromen, A., I. Cook and R. Smith (ed.), Port Melbourne: Cambridge University Press. Stanyer, J. (2007) Modern political communication : mediated politics in uncertain times. Cambridge: Polity Press. ——— (2013) Intimate politics : publicity, privacy and the personal lives of politicians in media-saturated democracies. Cambridge, UK ; Malden, MA: Polity. StataCorp (2013) 'Stata Statistical Software.' In Release 13. College Station, TX: StataCorp LP. Steeper, F. (2008) 'The Use of Voter Research in Campaigns' In The Sage Handbook of Public Opinion Research, in Donsbach, W. and M. W. Traugott (ed.), London: Sage Publications: 594-602. Stimson, J. A. (1975) 'Belief Systems: Constraint, Complexity, and the 1972 Election', American Journal of Political Science, 19 (3): 393-417. Stoker, G. (2006) Why politics matters : making democracy work. Houndmills [England] ; New York: Palgrave Macmillan. ——— (2009) 'What's wrong with our political culture and what, if anything, can we do to improve it? Reflections on Colin Hay's 'Why We Hate Politics'', British Politics, 4 (1): 83-91. Strangio, P. and J. Walter (2015) 'The Leadership Contest: An end to the ‘messiah complex’?' In Abbott's Gambit: The 2013 Australian Federal Election, in Johnson, C., J. Wanna and H.-A. Lee (ed.), Canberra: ANU Press. Stromberg, R. N. (1996) Democracy : a short, analytical history. Armonk, N.Y: M.E. Sharpe. Sunstein, C. R. (2001) Echo Chambers: Bush v Gore, Impeachment and Beyond. Princeton, NJ: Princeton Digital Books Plus, Princeton University Press. ——— (2007) Republic.com 2.0. Princeton: Princeton University Press,. Tanner, L. (2011) Sideshow : dumbing down democracy. Carlton North, Vic.: Scribe.
315 Throsby, E. (2013) '"Engaging the disengaged: Swinging voters, political participation and media in Australia ', PLATFORM: Journal of Media and Communication, 5 (1): 97-106. Tiffen, R. (1989) News and power. Sydney: Allen & Unwin. Tingle, L. (2012) 'Great Expectations: Government, Entitlement and an Angry Nation', Quarterly Essay, 46. Tocqueville, A. d. (1956) Democracy in America. New York: New American Library. Trenaman, J. and D. McQuail (1961) Television and the political image; a study of the impact of television on the 1959 general election. London,: Methuen. Trent, J. S. and R. V. Friedenberg (2008) Political campaign communication : principles and practices. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Turk, M. (2013) 'Social and new media - an evolving future' In Campaigns on the Cutting Edge, in Semiatin, R. J. (ed.), Los Angeles: Sage: 48-64. Twitter (2017) 'Donald J. Trump Twitter stats.' Twitter. http://twittercounter.com/realDonaldTrump. 'The Unreliable Voter' (1955), The Economist, London, The Economist Group. van Onselen, P. and P. Senior (2008) Howard's End: The Unravelling of a Government. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press. Vandenberg, A. (2000) Citizenship and democracy in a global era. New York: St. Martin's Press. ______(2000) 'Contesting Citizenship and Democracy in a Global Era' In Citizenship and Democracy in a Global Era, in Vandenberg, A. (ed.), London: Macmillan: 3-17. Vinken, H. (2005) 'Young People's Civic Engagement. The Need for New Perspectives' In Contemporary Youth Research: Local Expressions and Global Connections, in Helve, H. H., Gunila (ed.), Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing Ltd: 147-158. Vromen, A. (1995) 'Paul Keating is the prime minister, but who delivers the mail? A study of political knowledge amongst young people', Australian Journal of Political Science, 30 (1): 74-90. ——— (2003) ''People Try to Put Us Down …': Participatory Citizenship of 'Generation X'', Australian Journal of Political Science, 38 (1): 79-99. ——— (2011) 'Constructing Australian Youth Online', Information, Communication & Society, 14 (7): 959-980. ——— (2012) 'New forms of participation and social movements' In Contemporary Politics in Australia: Theories, Practices and Issues, in Vromen, A., I. Cook and R. Smith (ed.), Port Melbourne: Cambridge University Press. Vromen, A. and W. Coleman (2011) 'Online movement mobilisation and electoral politics: The case of getup!', Communication, Politics & Culture, 44 (2): 76-94. Vromen, A., K. Gelber and A. Gauja (2009) Powerscape : contemporary Australian politics. Crows Nest, N.S.W.: Allen & Unwin. Vromen, A., B. D. Loader, M. A. Xenos and F. Bailo (2016) 'Everyday Making through Facebook Engagement: Young Citizens’ Political Interactions in Australia, the United Kingdom and the United States', Political Studies, 64 (3): 513-533.
316 Wahlquist, A. (2003) Rain worth more than a bucketful of promises, The Australian. 14 May 2003. Walker, T. (2013) PM needs push to avoid being a footnote, The Australian Financial Review. 28 August 2013. Walters, J., E. Helmore and S. K. Dehghan (2017) US airports on frontline as Donald Trump's travel ban causes chaos and protests, The Guardian. 29 Janualry 2017. Wattenberg, M. P. (1991) The Rise of candidate-centered politics : presidential elections of the 1980s. Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press. Webster, J. G. (1998) 'The audience', Journal of Broadcasting & Electronic Media, 42 (2): 190. Weller, P. (1983) 'Labor in 1980' In Australia at the Polls: The National elections of 1980 and 1983, in Penniman, H. R. (ed.), Sydney: Allen and Unwin: 55-77. Westen, D. (2007) The political brain : the role of emotion in deciding the fate of the nation. New York: PublicAffairs. Williams, B. A. and M. X. Delli Carpini (2000) 'Unchained reaction: The collapse of media gatekeeping and the Clinton–Lewinsky scandal', Journalism, 1 (1): 61-85. Williams, P. (1997) The victory : the inside story of the takeover of Australia. St Leonards, N.S.W.: Allen & Unwin. Williams, R. (1974) Television; technology and cultural form. London: Fontana. Winch, S. P. (1998) Mapping the cultural space of journalism : how journalists distinguish news from entertainment. Westport, Conn.: Praeger. Wittman, D. (1989) 'Why Democracies Produce Efficient Results', Journal of Political Economy, 97 (6): 1395-1424. Wren, A. (2016) 'The Undecided.' In Politico. Arlington, Virginia: Capitol News Company. Wyatt, R. O., E. Katz and J. Kim (2000) 'Bridging the spheres: political and personal conversation in public and private spaces', Journal of Communication, 50 (1): 71-92. Young, S. A. (2004) The persuaders : inside the hidden machine of political advertising. North Melbourne, Victoria: Pluto Press. ——— (2011) How Australia decides : election reporting and the media. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Zaller, J. (1992) The nature and origins of mass opinion. Cambridge [England] ; New York, NY, USA: Cambridge University Press. ——— (1998) 'Monica Lewinsky's contribution to political science', PS, Political Science & Politics, 31 (2): 182-189. ——— (2003) 'A New Standard of News Quality: Burglar Alarms for the Monitorial Citizen', Political Communication, 20 (2): 109-130. ——— (2004) 'Floating voters in US presidential elections, 1948-2000' In Studies in Public Opinion: Attitudes, Nonattitudes, Measurement, Error and Change, in Saris, W. E. S., Paul M. (ed.), Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press. Zelizer, B. (2004) Taking journalism seriously : news and the academy. Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage. Zoonen, L. v. (2005) Entertaining the citizen : when politics and popular culture converge. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.
317 Zukin, C. (2006) A new engagement? : political participation, civic life, and the changing American citizen. Oxford ; New York: Oxford University Press.
318