Running for government necessarily involves a degree of shameless boot licking. But Julia Gillard's sudden bid to win the Christian vote would have even the youngest of school children shouting 'brown nose' out across the playground.
When Gillard went public with her lack of faith, many people dared to dream of a future where right-wing Christian lobby groups might wield less influence over our national leader and on debate around issues such as gay marriage, euthanasia and overseas aid. If nothing else, it would free up that spot on the news every Sunday night previously taken up by Kevin Rudd's (and before him, John Howard's) impromptu media conferences held on the way home from church.
But the Christian vote proved just too alluring in the end for the prime minister. It seems that in the same way that I tried to impress the most popular girl at school with a spectacular attempt at a double backflip off the monkey bars in grade six, Gillard will try anything in an attempt to win over new friends in the religious right.
Two weeks ago, the prime minister canned her original plan to send a video message to the Mary MacKillop fundraising dinner, not only turning up in person but also pledging $1.5 million of public money towards the canonisation shin-dig in October. In her response to questions from the Australian Christian Lobby (ACL), Gillard confirmed that the Labor Party is committed to maintaining the definition of marriage as being exclusively between a man and a woman. More recently, she has pledged $222 million to expand the number of chaplains in schools by one-third.
According to government guidelines, the National School Chaplaincy Programme's aim is to assist schools to provide pastoral care, and general religious and personal guidance. Currently, about 2700 schools receive approximately $20,000 a year to employ a person with a religious background to provide this “advice and comfort”. Julia Gillard has assured the ACL that there will be no moves to secularise the program in the future.
The website of my old alma mater – a public school – shows that they have taken up the cash on offer and employed their very own chaplain. While I admittedly had a pretty tame childhood (notwithstanding the monkey bars incident), one thing is for sure – had I ever had real cause to seek counselling during my school years, a school chaplain is the last person I would have approached for advice.
When I think back to the problems that kids faced when I was young, they include issues around teen sex, drugs, alcohol and grief. What kind of advice would a chaplain provide to a young girl dealing with an unwanted pregnancy? What about a teenage boy who was coming to terms with being gay? Or just a vulnerable student who was grappling with questions about the meaning of life? It would be simply naïve to think that a chaplain could possibly put aside their religious beliefs and provide unbiased advice to students in such circumstances.
In her previous role as education minister, Julia Gillard had undertaken to replace chaplains in schools with qualified psychologists and counsellors. Now, however, she is vowing to continue a program that uses public money to directly support a program that aims to advance religion among the young and – let's face it – sometimes impressionable. Such a promise would seem to stand in complete contradiction to the principle of the separation of church and state.
One of the Labor Party's other promises in this campaign has centred around mental health issues. Over $65 million has been pledged to provide services to promote mental health in children and to address youth suicide. Just imagine what difference another $222 million could make if the money spent on employing chaplains in schools was diverted to more tangible and proven strategies for improving the welfare and well-being of our young people.
I know that in the playground of politics you might sometimes be forced to act in ways that compromise your personal beliefs in the name of winning votes and crucial marginal seats. But no one respects you when you sell out and try to be friends with absolutely everybody. I never did master that double backflip off the monkey bars. Instead, I ended up face-planting into the tan bark, humiliating myself and making even my existing friends a bit embarrassed to sit next to me in class later that afternoon. There's a lesson in there somewhere for the prime minister.
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