We might well be on the brink of an election breaking out. A once in a decade crisis that has seen the pollies wielding national security like a horse whip on Derby day. Day after day the Duttons and Morrisons have been immersing themselves in the backgrounds of military infrastructure. Flying in and flying out, the machinery of wrath has become a backdrop for politically divisive interviews. It's an opportunistic strike of political optics. An aesthetic backed wedge designed to paint an image of a weak opposition and a strong leader, with strong armed tactics.
Nuclear powered submarines, uranium armoured tanks, supersonic cruise missiles and high-calibre anti- personnel rounds have all become part of the iconography of armed warfare. Objects desired as much for their utility as for their optics. A tool to kill enemies of the state and enemies in the cross bench. Like the fine-china sets we keep on high, they are artefacts kept locked on display . Porcelain cups we don't dare drink from, swords we don’t dare unsheath and trinkets kept only for special occasions and Special Operations. The weapons we keep on the mantelpiece have become the props of our present day political pantomime. Props that we dare not use but props we must keep on display. It’s an ornamental deterrence fueled by boots on the ground and bombs in the air. An ideologically based mud-slinging race to the bottom of the election cycle barrel.
The machines of war have become shallow political tools for shadowy figures. Something to keep locked away in a hardwood cabinet only to be trotted out when the media comes for lunch. Something to exude hard power and further political means. Something that might well win them the next federal election.
