People who lead us in public life can often sound like one of those dead-eyed "large language models" many are so worried about.
Politically-optimised LLMs jerry-rigged to flesh-and-bone "neural networks". Sprouting reasonable-sounding nonsense.
All that's missing is a silly name like Llama or Rufus.
This column has no real understanding of how AI works. But the way LLMs are fed on data in Silicon Valley's dark satanic mills reminds one of how the French force-feed ducks and geese to expand their livers for foie gras. It's illegal to produce this artery-clogging delicacy in Australia because the ducks really don't like it.
But as with AI we're allowed to import foie gras in whatever quantities we fancy.
One Nation's failed super sell
Politicians feed their personal internal LLMs with polls and focus groups and by watching how voters react to the things they and their colleagues do and say. Then then hold up the mirror to the audience, hoping they like what they see.
As with any circular self-fertilising system it pays to keep your guard up for when these political AI machines make stuff up. Or worse still, hallucinate.
Barnaby Joyce springs to mind after this week declaring on 7.30 that he "was not Jesus Christ". And that he should therefore not be asked too many questions about One Nation's latest superannuation policy.
The uncharitable interpretation of this — certainly one that Treasurer Jim Chalmers suggested — is that Joyce was bluffing his way around the fact that he didn't know the details. An interpretation, by the way, that some Liberals privately agree with.
There's a strong view that One Nation's policy was leaked by someone inside the Coalition which was preparing to announce a very similar idea.
But we've digressed somewhat. Back to politicians who sound like automated simulacra of intelligence and meaning.
Hastie launches blistering assault
Sometimes you get a flash of lightning. An insight into someone being more genuine and honest.
This week raised the possibility that Andrew Hastie might be an example after he launched a blistering public assault on Pauline Hanson for calling him a "traitor" in a social media cartoon.
The former SAS veteran who served three tours in the Middle East slammed Hanson as a "lying coward" for failing to take responsibility and deleting the film, which called him a traitor eight times. He said her accusation was an attack on all veterans.
"The question I have for Senator Hanson is: are you calling them traitors as well? Because if you are, just own it. You don't get to redefine ANZAC. You don't get to redefine the profession of arms."
The row between Hastie and One Nation continues to rumble, but it's generated plenty of online heat.
Tassie senator Jacqui Lambie, another veteran, was equally scathing of Hanson, who by Friday was telling everyone to take a "chill pill".
As of late yesterday the offending video was still pinned to the top of her social media feeds.
Hastie's fightback — which has been buttressed by a string of Coalition voices — is both targeted and deliberate. The MP for Canning knows he has a difficult fight on his hands keeping his southern Perth-based seat in the face of a resurgent One Nation. And he's long ago decided that rather than work with Hanson — as some Liberals have advocated — he wants to take her on directly.
It's all complicated by the fact that Hastie is up against it given WA's insular media ecosystem is largely arrayed against him over the Ben Roberts Smith case. So it's a bold experiment and we'll have to wait to see if it works.
But the unique thing about what Hastie is doing is that he's fighting fire with fire against Australia's most prominent populist. It's part of an ongoing transformation over recent months.
LoadingRemember when we made big cars
A year ago Hastie was making headlines with a fairly hokey social media campaign that was harking back to a distant past, a sepia-coloured Hills Hoist idyll. Remember when we made big cars. Economists — inside and outside the Coalition — shook their heads in disbelief.
Then Hastie learnt the hard way what it means to be burnt by the flaming pit of hell that is online engagement.
Originally pitching himself as a libertarian against political censorship, Hastie was against the tide of Labor's post-Bondi anti-vilification legislation. After switching to a more centrist view that there should be limits on saying terrible things about minorities, Hastie was excommunicated by many of his previous boosters, outraged at this transgression.
In response, Hastie has been busy trying to build support from different constituencies.
The question for Hastie, and those who want him to lead the Liberal Party, is whether he can make his momentum last.
There's no way to know at this point and there are many examples abroad of how such an approach has failed. Particularly in the United States where Donald Trump tore down column after column of Republican opponents.
Hanson is no Trump, but it's a dangerous fight. In the US, Republicans who couldn't beat Trump either joined him or quietly faded away, though there are some exceptions.
At the very least, Hastie has established that he's an institutionalist, with a clear set of values and that he's prepared to defend them, even if its uncomfortable and may upset his own base. But hat's what genuine conviction politicians do.
Loading...Meanwhile, the Greens' splinter
Which brings us to the Greens, who were quietly having their own internal meltdown this week.
The surprise is that it happened on an issue of core business; the question of whether to support a new method for generating carbon credits from turning land that was earmarked for logging into national park. For many in the environmental movement opposition to this idea was hard to understand. Why die on this remnant old growth forest covered hill?
But for others, including Bob Brown and Christine Milne, it was selling out the environmental movement to neoliberalism.
In the end the Greens partyroom voted six votes to five to support the government's policy. Three Greens then dissented on the Senate floor, the first time anyone can remember such a thing happening at such scale.
In most other political parties the sight of 27 per cent of the party room crossing the floor would trigger a leadership spill. It's not clear that's what will happen this time. But one does have to wonder.
Either way, it's a tough business being a political leader. Not something you'd want done by Claude or Gemini or Grok.
Jacob Greber is political editor of ABC's 7.30 program.
