Turnbull was charming and affable but he didn't have a political bone in his body, Dutton said. That was "not a criticism but, without political judgment, you can't survive in politics and he didn't". Turnbull had a plan to become prime minister but no plan to be prime minister, Dutton said. He was strong on economic management, borders and national security, but would trash his own legacy if he believed his standing would be strengthened by helping topple Scott Morrison's government. Dutton – who, in the immediate aftermath of Turnbull's fall declared himself to be the morally better person – seemed to make it clear this week that Turnbull went to the butcher's block not for his moral imperfections, whatever these were, but because he couldn't run a raffle in a pub. Turnbull, Dutton said, lacked John Howard's touch, judgment or ability to deliver a message. Home Affairs Minister Peter Dutton and Prime Minister Scott Morrison during question time in October. Credit:Alex Ellinghausen Leave aside, for the moment, whether Dutton was doing the Morrison government's future much good by reviving memories of the bastardry, disloyalty and rancour inside the Liberal Party, and, if for somewhat different reasons, within the Nationals. And leave aside whether Dutton himself had the ingredients of Howard's success, or some other sort of winning affinity with the electorate.

A good deal of what Dutton said was fair comment. The unsentimental judgments of one's bitter enemies are often as full of insight as those of one's closest friends. In much the same way, Turnbull's criticisms of Abbott at the time of the coup resonated with the crowd, even if it was subsequently proved that Turnbull was also a dud. One of the things that resonated was the charge that Abbott was ultimately incapable "of providing the economic leadership our nation needs", as Turnbull had said. "Now we are living, as Australians, in the most exciting time. The big economic changes that we're living through here and around the world offer enormous challenges and enormous opportunities, and we need a different style of leadership. "We need a style of leadership that explains those challenges and opportunities; explains the challenges and how to seize the opportunities. A style of leadership that respects the people's intelligence, that explains these complex issues, and then sets out the course of action we believe we should take, and makes a case for it. We need advocacy, not slogans. We need to respect the intelligence of the Australian people." Turnbull said the Liberal Party had the right values. "What we have not succeeded in doing is translating those values into the policies and the ideas that will excite the Australian people and encourage them to believe and understand that we have a vision for their future. We need to restore traditional cabinet government. There must be an end to policy on the run and captain's calls. We need to be truly consultative with colleagues, members of Parliament, senators and the wider public." A good deal of what Dutton said this week was fair comment.

Turnbull may have succeeded with some of these aspirations, but never proved capable of galvanising his party, or the electorate, around the right policies for these exciting times. With or without cabinet process, there was much ad hoc policy, many bold announcements disowned by the end of the day or week, and too many announcements focused on PR rather than changing outcomes. But Turnbull's primary failure – as Dutton suggests – was in crafting a message and selling it. Looking back, it is not even clear there was a message to impart. There may have been no dams blocking the torrents of words. But those words were not advocacy, arguments or selling points. They were explanations, abuse of the opposition and rhetorical flourishes. One never got the impression that Turnbull, or his economic ministers, were infused with and excited by ideas, or keen on the processes by which debate sharpened and improved a policy or a program. Indeed, particularly on economic matters (such as company tax cuts, or kowtowing to the banks), dogma, not debate, seemed the guiding principle. By the last days of Turnbull's leadership, we had seen the best of him. The polls, byelections and open disunity within the party showed it was headed for defeat. It was entirely characteristic of Turnbull's fall that it was preceded by sundry humiliations as he was forced to ditch more elements of his energy policy because he was unable to sell it to his own side. Energy had been his thing. It was also entirely characteristic that, even as his fate seemed clear, he lacked the courage or the will to go down fighting on a matter that he (and his energy minister, Josh Frydenberg) had thought, or pretended to think, was crucial.

That they had a point might seem to be demonstrated by the way Labor now pretends that it has adopted the Turnbull-Frydenberg approach, and, with a few tweaks, the policy itself. Turnbull may have lacked political nous. And courage. If he had a guiding or abiding principle, or some river he was not prepared to cross, no one could discern it. He often made very bad judgments – say, over giving money to a mining industry charity to save the Great Barrier Reef, to hand control of water policy to Barnaby Joyce, punishing the ABC, downgrading the NBN, and trying to play the uber-media baron he had never succeeded in being during his commercial career. Loading But he had a certain credibility – not least on economic matters – that Morrison never achieved as treasurer, and which Frydenberg will always struggle to get, perhaps because, as a cosseted and privileged child, like Joe Hockey, he has never manifested any feel for the life of the ordinary citizen. One needs such cred to be perceived as a leader, rather than the mere head of a hungry (and now terrified) mob. Some people grow into the job, with many of their qualities unrecognised when they take over. But Morrison's problem is he has never looked much more than foreman material. His folksy manner, glass of frothy beer and American caps may seem to make him a man of the people, but they have not given him the authority, legitimacy or charisma needed to lead his party or country.

No one could accuse Morrison of failing to give the job of wooing back voters his very best effort. There have been fresh announcements, and announcibles, almost every day. Ministers have made hard, nasty and shameful politics of almost everything, including national security, hope of some sort of just settlement in the Middle East, race, crime, human dignity and the welfare of small children. They have hammered away, if with little effect, on the idea of the government's great success with economic policy and jobs, and the clear and present danger that a Shorten government represents to everything Australians hold dear, including negative gearing of real-estate investments and the right, in effect, to cash out imputed dividends. Loading Morrison has harnessed all manner of cliches and slogans to the task, doing his very best to stay on message regardless of what question he is asked. But he has not eschewed longer sentences, longer explanations and even the incomprehensible gibberish of Turnbull – in full, high-tech, agile, flexible and innovative managerialist mode – if he has thought it could win back a vote. That is not advocacy. It involves few of the arts of persuasion or seduction. It is not without significance that Morrison, as treasurer, had no reputation (as Mathias Cormann has had) for negotiating economic policy through the Senate. In another life, before politics, Morrison worked in advertising and marketing. He's full of its jargon, as well of its tendency to think that whatever is currently being sold is absolutely fantastic.

There's no evidence that his salesmanship works, whether in making policies or the government popular. Not even good news seems to have affected popular thinking. The message is either not getting through or, having been received, has been rejected or unnoticed. That's not all Morrison's fault. There's a good argument that the electorate turned off the Liberals under Turnbull and is simply not listening, even when (or if) Morrison makes good points. Moreover, the turn-off factor might not be a consequence of bad or unpopular policies. After all, by international comparisons, Australia's economic performance has been very good. Neither the opposition nor a good part of the electorate are critical of the drift to a surveillance state. Immigration and refugee policies, if bitterly criticised in some quarters, seem to enjoy popular support. If the electorate has had enough of the Coalition, it seems to be more for its infighting, musical chairs, and that combination of rorting, sexual scandal and arrogance that always signals the need to change government. When Turnbull ambushed Abbott, there was a change of the public mood. But Turnbull seemed to be a person of entirely different personality and approach, and Abbott's departure meant change. Morrison may once have had credentials as a member of his party's conservative faction, but his pragmatic alliance with Turnbull, as well as his political needs so close to an election, has forced him to stress continuity rather than change.