The grey clouds hung low, and it drizzled. A small band of protesters shouted for refugees. Bill Shorten swept down the aisle of the Albert Hall like he was in a wedding procession – with a couple of federal police groomsmen eyeing off the guests.



Canberra is a progressive town. The moist attendees for the Labor leader’s first Canberra “town hall” meeting cheered their welcome.

Shorten rocked on his heels at the podium at the front of the room. “What I want to do is hear from you,” the Labor leader told his audience. Just in case they missed it. “We want to hear from you.”

Up front, Shorten addressed the current disillusionment with politics-as-usual.

The cause of productive engagement, politician to person, was more urgent than ever, Shorten reasoned, because people were sick of the “schoolyard bickering.” The people behind me murmured their approval.

The Labor leader opened with a statement of values. He would try and roll back the Fair Work Commission decision on penalty rates. (Polite applause). Labor would take real action on climate change. (Roof lifting roar of approval).

The microphones went out to the floor and Shorten’s suit jacket came off.

I mentioned Canberra was a progressive town. One of the first questions from the floor was about the incarceration of asylum seekers on Nauru and Manus Island. A woman wanted a commitment from Labor to bring together a cross-party coalition to change the “toxic” nature of the debate, and a lot more besides.

Her take down of Labor’s bipartisanship on offshore detention was comprehensive.

Another man was worried about lifelong learning. A lady was worried about “Barnaby” taking good workers out of the ACT. A young man from the inner north was worried about rising inequality. He wanted a rock solid commitment that Labor would support a progressive tax system. He’d heard Wayne Swan on the radio talking about the “Buffett rule.”

The audience ask questions at Bill Shorten’s town hall meeting in Canberra on Thursday. Photograph: Mike Bowers/The Guardian

“Thanks very much everybody,” Shorten said, possibly even meaning it, microphone in hand, liberating himself from out from behind the podium.

The shirt sleeves were rolled up.

Helen had made some good points on the refugee debate, Shorten said. But he challenged her to point to any negative language he’d ever uttered on refugees. He acknowledged it was a toxic debate. Pauline Hanson had played her part in that, Shorten noted. He said Labor would always put One Nation last. He was pro-immigration.

The substance of Helen’s request was left to the local member Andrew Leigh. “We need to close down Manus and Nauru,” Leigh said, to a holler and a whoop. It was “false equivalence” to say Labor and the Coalition were the same on refugees, Leigh said. The holler and a whoop wound down to a smattering of desultory applause.

The microphone was passed to the other local member, Gai Brodtmann. Labor’s platform was guided by compassion and a great sense of humanitarianism, she said. Brodtmann said a new consultation would begin on the refugee chapter of the Labor party platform – sixty people were involved in a consultation process.

The microphone went back to Shorten. “We will disagree with the government, but not just for the sake of it,” he said, on refugees.

A swerve back to Barnaby, who was forcing public servants to work out of McDonalds in Armidale. This was absurd, Shorten said. It was all because the Nationals were terrified of One Nation. The Labor leader’s volume went up several notches. The Nationals were failing the bush. Yes, they were.

Then to the thorny issue of the Buffett tax, which is a proposition supported by the Labor left, but not by the shadow treasurer, Chris Bowen. Inequality is a problem, Shorten said. If you don’t have a plan for inequality you shouldn’t be in government.

“Labor does support a progressive tax system,” he said.

But a Buffett tax was a bridge too far. Probably. “We think that for sheer efficiency ... at this point reforming negative gearing is one of the best redistributive mechanisms we can do.”

“We want to hear ideas. We are up for making genuine changes. We respect success but we shouldn’t have a system that prioritises trickle down economics. We are on the right track, and we are going to push the fairness agenda every day until the next federal election because the country is ready for it.”

The next batch of questions.

In the age of Q&A, people no longer hesitate at the microphone. People take their moment. What are you doing to protect minorities such as Muslims? People are fearful, said one questioner.

What would are you doing to eradicate gum trees? They are a bloody menace. (Yes, really). It was a lengthy presentation.

Brodtmann counselled for concision. Nobody cared about concision. Another lengthy monologue followed on kinship care.

“Thank you, I’ll keep it brief,” said the next lady. You are talking about what’s happening at the next election, she said. What can we do now to keep people engaged? Now. Not in three years.

The protection of minorities question was an opportunity to talk about the government and the 18C debate. And by the way, Labor would legislate for marriage equality within one hundred days. The segue between 18C and marriage equality wasn’t entirely clear. (In any case, another roof lifting holler).

Gum trees, sadly, would have to be left to the local assembly. Kinship care would have to be taken on notice.

Now we’d arrived at how you make change between elections. Shorten gestured in the direction of press gallery journalists. They might have some ideas. The room looked deeply unconvinced. Hostile eyes were directed to the front row at the Albert Hall.

“I’m deeply conscious Labor didn’t win the last election, but the opposition is standing up. You can fight and make a difference,” Shorten said. Then back to the media. If the media want an adult conversation, then there needed to be adult reporting. Yes, yes, yes, said the room. Bloody oath.

Bill Shorten speaks to the crowd at the Albert Hall in Canberra. Photograph: Mike Bowers/The Guardian

Shorten said if you want to make change, join a political party. “Join Labor.” That advice seemed popular.



Another batch of questions. The scourge of addictive drugs. The Adani coal mine, could Shorten guarantee there would be no public money for that project? Would he promise not to open new mines – would he stop the Queensland government from rolling out a disaster in Queensland?

Then a child migrant, a victim of sexual abuse. The room hushed in respect. Heads turned back to look at the questioner. Shorten maintained steady eye contact. The man had concerns about the royal commission. He spoke for a long time. “Sir,” Brodtmann inquired, gently, prompting a question.

“It’s fine,” Shorten said. “It’s fine.”

A child of diplomats was worried about the impact of foreign aid cuts. And Donald Trump.

“That’s four quite big issues,” Shorten said.

Ice was a huge problem, raised in every single town hall, and this was town hall forty one. He wanted better treatment “for after the emergency.”

There would not be “a single dollar of Commonwealth money spent on Adani. It either stands up or it doesn’t.” Labor was “absolutely committed to promoting renewables. The government needs to end the culture wars, saying coal is better than sun.”

To the gentleman who had suffered abuse. “You could hear a pin drop as you started speaking.” Sometimes, in these meetings, something happens that eclipses the transactional nature of the town hall, Shorten noted.

The royal commission was a good initiative, an initiative of Julia Gillard’s, but he would take his concerns on notice. “The system and society owe you and your fellow survivors.”

“I believe you,” Shorten said to the survivor. “You’ve reminded us about a whole lot of stuff that’s important. Your family are so lucky to have a man of such strength in their lives.”

As for Trump. “I knew someone would get me in trouble on Trump.” Australia needed to think for itself on foreign policy, Shorten said. That was the Trump lesson. That said, he hoped the new president would succeed.

As the sun set, framed in the windows of the hall, the hands kept shooting up. Half an hour after the scheduled leaving time, people began to trickle out of the Albert Hall.

But the stayers were well dug in. Childcare. Homelessness. Climate change. The republic. Could Aboriginal elders be given responsibility for electing the head of state?

The homelessness agreement had to be sorted. “We’ll fire up this issue tomorrow,” Shorten said. On climate change. “We are not for turning on this issue.”

On elders appointing the head of state: “It’s innovative thinking, I’m not sure we’d get it up at a referendum.”

“We are ready to have our own head of state.” Turnbull was a republican who couldn’t deliver.

And what use was that?

Shorten twinkled at Canberra, winding up with the stump speech.

“It’s always good to end a party while you are having fun.”