In the 18 months since October 7, we in so-called Australia have watched helplessly from the sidelines as Israel has become increasingly blatant in its efforts to exterminate Palestinians. All the while, the Labor government remained steadfast in its support for Israel’s “right to defend itself”, only reluctantly calling for a ceasefire after months of public pressure. There have been no condemnations of Israel or sanctions for its war crimes, and no word of what they will do if Benjamin Netanyahu comes to Australia (the ICC has issued an arrest warrant for him and Yoav Gallant for crimes against humanity and war crimes). In fact, former Labor and now independent senator Fatima Payman garnered harsher criticism from Prime Minister Anthony Albanese over her support of Palestinian statehood, than Israel did for killing more than 100,000 Palestinians – many of whom were women and children.
It’s become abundantly clear that Palestinian lives do not matter to Anthony Albanese or the Labor government. But what do we actually do with this information in a federal election when Israel has bipartisan support from both major parties?
Is there a lesser evil?
There has been much talk of voting Albanese and Labor out over the failure to take a stance against genocide. It would send a strong message: that we will not tolerate morally bankrupt leaders, that there will be consequences for your apathy. But if we go down this route, who do we vote for instead? The Coalition and opposition leader Peter Dutton, who is even more hateful towards Muslims and ethnic minorities? Won’t that just make things worse for all of us?
In many ways this election mirrors the 2024 US election and the moral conundrums that come with lesser evilism. Voting for Donald Trump seemed like an obvious no-no for any progressive. But Kamala Harris was a cop (like Peter Dutton, I might add) with her own sordid history of oppressive and harmful policies, including support of the prison-industrial complex, harsh and cruel border control, and, of course, the state of Israel.
At the time, I recorded a podcast episode detailing Harris’ history from a policy perspective to remind people she was not the progressive idol her fans made her out to be. I did not want us excuse her part in Israel’s genocide for the sake of representation politics or girlbossery; I wanted to reiterate that presidential candidates should earn our votes rather than demand them with the threat of something worse. “Vote for one candidate or suffer immense tragedy” is more coercive than democratic.
I wanted to legitimise the very valid alienation that Arabs and Muslims were feeling, at a time where they were being blamed and demonised for not wanting to vote for a party that had already orchestrated and executed the mass killing of their loved ones.
Now I find myself having the same conversations about Anthony Albanese, with people who refuse to entertain any criticism of him because it could mean Dutton wins the election. It’s as if a Coalition win would be the fault of principled leftists who draw a line at genocide, and not, say, a rise in far-right voters and the fascists who actively bay for it.
But the conversation has become more complicated now that we’ve seen the result of Kamala Harris’ loss.
While issues like the rolling back of women’s rights, the destabilisation of Arab nations, and illegal detention and deportation of migrants were always happening under US Democrats, there are unique cruelties that can be attributed to Trump’s presidency: the defunding and removal of DEI initiatives, the emboldening of white supremacists, and the tariffs which will see cost of living inflate for working class Americans.
The current state of the US feels like a cautionary tale. A glimpse of what will come if we don’t keep Labor in power, and an “I told you so” moment for progressives who gleefully punished leftists for not voting for Harris, if they voted at all. (Anyone still confused about why leftists might not want to vote for Harris or Albanese should read Kwame Ture’s The Pitfalls of Liberalism.)
Reactionary vs intentional voting
It brings me back to the original question of what we actually want to achieve when we vote. Why do we do it? What is the purpose? The obvious answer for most people will be to participate in democracy, to elect a leader that represents us. But it’s a ruse, because we do not actually vote for who represents us — we vote for who we think is the least shit.
Think of the Voice to Parliament referendum. There were three main positions on this issue: the regressive ‘no’ vote did not want First Nations people to be represented in Parliament; the ‘yes’ voters did want First Nations people to be represented in Parliament; and then the ‘progressive no’ vote who wanted something material, like a treaty, rather than a symbolic Voice designed to defer change to an ever distant future.
Initially, I was in the ‘progressive no’ camp. It’s what the radical First Nations activists and artists I trust were supporting, and I believe that First Nations people deserve a real impact on their future, not a symbol that’s easily ignored by our leaders. But as the hateful acts against First Nations people throughout the campaign increased, I followed many of these activists in changing to the ‘yes’ vote, in the hopes of mitigating some of the racist harm being caused by the referendum.
Our votes became reactionary, rather than a genuine expression of our political beliefs. That seems to have become the norm these days. Voting has become something we do to avoid futures, not create them.
We voted Albanese in to avoid Scott Morrison, not because we thought Albanese would be a good leader. The same could be said of support for the Democrats in the 2024 election — many left-leaning folks voted blue not because they endorsed the Democrat platform or policies, but because they were afraid of Trump; another reactionary vote designed to defer further doom rather than bring in change.
So, if voting doesn’t fulfil the purpose it’s supposed to, why do we genuinely believe this is how we will enact change? Why do we keep insisting on systems that we know will fail us?
Lauren Berlant, a philosopher of affect theory and the politics of emotion, coined the term “cruel optimism” to explain how sometimes our attachment to a process is, ironically, what prevents us from reaching our goals. It’s precisely our optimism that can make our politics so impotent. The belief that if we just vote the bad guy out another one won’t take his place is rooted in delusion. This optimism is “cruel” because it keeps us stuck in the same cycle.
On May 3: React or refuse
How to vote in the federal election on the issue of Palestine? I’m still working through that myself.
On one hand, I want Albanese and Labor to know that we are serious about liberating Palestine, and we are willing to punish leaders who aren’t. On the other hand, I will never vote for Peter Dutton, who I believe will worsen the lives of Muslims and ethnic minorities.
The most obvious choice is to try to vote in a minority Labor government by prioritising a third party candidate from the Greens, Victorian Socialists or other progressive candidates. That way we keep Dutton out, but also tell Labor we don’t really care for them. It’s not much — a slap on the wrist — but it’s something. Right?
But what if I don’t want to vote for Labor? What if I don’t want to take part in their rotten schemes?
I’ve been reading about the politics of refusal, about what a radical notion “no” is in a world where we are constantly conned into giving up our beliefs for nothing. In A Guerilla Guide to Refusal, Andrew Culp notes how some of the most important political movements pose no demands or solutions — a radical idea, and one that feels timely in an era where support for Israel is bipartisan. But it’s also a concept I find difficult to translate into the Australian political system, where I know that if I refuse to vote there will be one less vote against Dutton.
Again, this makes voting reactionary and I don’t know how to avoid it.
So far, I’m still negotiating my relationship with so-called Australia and its so-called democracy. I am not quite hopeless enough to not vote at all, but I see the merits of opting out and don’t blame others for doing so. Although I’m not quite hopeful enough to back a specific candidate, I know I will always choose Greens or Victorian Socialists before I vote Labor or Liberal.
I’m far from believing that voting is some special way to have a “voice” when that “voice” only gives you two options: coloniser A or coloniser B. But I’m also not going to let Peter Dutton win this easily.
Oh cruel optimism — how you’ve trapped me.
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