Australian campaign is just a total waste of time What really triggered the Prime Minister to call the early federal election, asks Hugh Mackay.
J ust a few days out from the election, the biggest question in the minds of the nation's weary, disillusioned and dispirited voters is this: what was that all about?
The trigger for this unseemly rush to a double-dissolution poll, you may dimly recall, was the Senate's rejection of a bill to re- establish the Australian Building and Construction Commission. 
And yet, far from being the centrepiece of the Coalition's campaign, it has barely rated a mention. The Prime Minister has repeatedly referred to the need to get rid of an obstructive Senate, but since it was obvious from the outset that this election would deliver an even more fragmented - and potentially more hostile - upper house, that can hardly have been the real reason.Was it simply that, in the face of an extraordinary slide from the heights of popularity he enjoyed in the weeks after he toppled Tony Abbott, Malcolm Turnbull panicked?
Was it that, having let slip the opportunity to go quickly to the polls to capitalise on the electorate's emotional over-investment in him, he realised the longer he waited, the more dismal the trend- lines would become? Whatever the motivation - a blend, no doubt, of personal ambition and political opportunism - the electoral atmosphere created by such cynical manipulation of constitutional and political factors was bound to be fractious.
And so, from the start, this was set to be one more sloganistic slugfest between two tiresomely conventional politicians - one who has disappointed us by his performance in the top job, and the other who has surprised us by doing better than we thought he could. For eight long weeks we have watched a lot of carefully controlled wheel-spinning. Campaign strategists have trivialised the entire process by treating it as if it were a mere brand-marketing exercise, rather than an opportunity for some serious reflection on the kind of society we are becoming.
We have waited in vain for that magic moment when we would be engaged - perhaps even inspired.
We have searched fruitlessly for a coherent, visionary narrative from either side at a time when our society is being challenged not simply by the demands of an economy in transition, but by the stresses (especially in our big cities) of population growth, social fragmentation, poverty and homelessness.
Most disturbingly, neither side has had the courage to face the moral issue that threatens to redefine the kind of people we are - our unconscionable treatment, amounting to prolonged mental torture, of innocent asylum seekers in our detention centres.
This campaign has been so bad it has added weight to the call to rethink the nature of our political system, and perhaps to re-examine the institution of parliament itself.
But before we lump all our despair on to politicians, we need to wrap a bit of context around this. Many other institutions have been suffering a similar slump in public esteem and a similar call for renewal.
Institutions exist to formalise and regulate many of the functions of society, so we naturally think of them as "ours". That's why institutional shortcomings always feel to us like a betrayal of our trust: we place our faith in institutions because they contribute to our sense of confidence in our society and, in the case of some institutions, to the meaning and purpose of our lives.
When we lose faith in those institutions, consequences run deep. The institutional church is in trouble, with a mere 8 per cent of Australians now attending church weekly (though 61 per cent still identified as Christian in the last census), and an unhappy perception that the church is as likely as any other institution to be corrupted by its own power.
And there's the rub. Institutions, like individuals, tend to be corrupted by power, and then begin serving their own needs rather than responding to ours.
Trade unions are on the nose for their abuse of power. Dwindling union membership tells its own story - as do dwindling political party memberships.
Higher education is being subjected to fresh scrutiny, amid growing suspicion that there are too many universities, too many students (some of whom may be better served by TAFE colleges), too many dodgy private operators getting in on the act and too many academic policies - including student-assessment policies - driven by a hunger for revenue.
Traditional mass media are losing support, with even such stalwarts as ABC TV's evening news being criticised for superficiality.
The big banks are in trouble, not just for insensitivity to customers' needs but because of disturbing accusations about the abuse of their power to manipulate bank bill swap rates. And the defence forces are facing another surge of public disgust over revelations of sexual and other forms of power-abuse.
And so the list goes on. In more passionate and blood-thirsty cultures, this might be the time for a revolution. In laconic Australia, we'll mutter and grumble, but at least an election gives us a chance to express how we feel. A hostile Senate? Definitely. More independents?
Bring 'em on. With any luck, we might even produce another hung parliament that would force more consultation, more negotiation and more transparency.
Creating a messy parliament is less dramatic than Brexit, but it may be our way of saying it's time for institutional renewal.
Social researcher Hugh Mackay's new book, Beyond Belief, is published by Macmillan.