Anthony Albanese and Dan Andrews (Image: AAP/Private Media)

Premier Daniel Andrews appears almost certain to bag another election victory on November 26, securing Victorian Labor 12 years in power. As Margaret Simons wrote in Guardian Australia: “This is the kind of longevity that changes societies, dominates notions of the politically possible, and defines communities.”

Prime Minister Anthony Albanese no doubt aspires to similar longevity in power at the federal level, and to likewise forge a historic legacy. But Albanese is yet to emulate what we might call Andrews-ism. Critics suggest the polarising premier lacks a “guiding philosophy”, but I’d argue Andrews-ism constitutes a coherent theory of centre-left leadership.

Despite its flaws, it’s an approach Albanese could learn a lot from, for it offers guidance on some of his government’s thornier political challenges.

The Dan theory: ‘get things done and crow about it’

I once described Andrews as a “noble show pony”. He has rebuilt faith in state action after decades of small-government inertia by pioneering programs that both respond to community frustrations and are highly visible. The flagship example is his slate of large-scale infrastructure projects. Where other governments may have worried about frustrating commuters with delays, the cranes and trucks blocking roads and train lines have shown Victorians their government is, as Andrews frequently repeats, “getting things done”.

The Victorian government’s pandemic restrictions also followed this logic, visibly responding to community fears with tangible actions. There were excessive theatrics — locking down public housing towers, instituting a curfew — but Victorians remained supportive because, as the Victorian Liberals still fail to understand, most want an activist government. Melbourne is not Florida.

Andrews-ism has its pitfalls: an aversion to oversight, underemphasising unsexy capacities (like pandemic preparedness pre-2020), and relying too heavily on the harder edges of state power. But it has kicked considerable policy goals and remains enduringly popular — a lot more than can be said for most centre-left governments in the contemporary era.

The Albo theory: ‘don’t move fast and break things’

Conversely, Albanese’s horse is so afraid of the whip it can hardly gallop. His recent budget delayed action on many of the community’s pressing concerns to marginally improve the budget’s bottom line. He does face revenue constraints, but the go-slow approach risks voters feeling fewer tangible benefits in their everyday lives, compounding their understandable disenchantment with the political class.

For instance, Albanese’s paid parental leave scheme will be introduced so gradually that parents won’t see the first tranche of two extra weeks until July 2024, and won’t get the full benefits until 2026, after the next election. Nine branded this unexpected “fine print” a “massive slap in the face” to new mums. For once, a politician unwisely forwent a baby-kissing photo-op.

Treasurer Jim Chalmers has tried to make a virtue of his first budget’s “restraint”, but frugality is hardly inspiring for voters. By failing to get the project pipeline moving, Labor risks having too few “cranes in the sky” come next election.

On tax, ask forgiveness not permission

Chalmers might counter that his October budget was merely the first instalment of a long-term plan. He is “starting a conversation” about reforming the tax system, which could enable more tangible social initiatives down the road. But on tax, too, there is much to learn from Victorian Labor.

Rather than starting an all-consuming debate about taxation levels, Victorian Treasurer Tim Pallas just quietly bolts on various taxes as he goes — 43 in total, as the opposition is fond of reminding us. This approach may be reaching its limits, and more foundational tax reform is overdue. But when your problem is revenue, any tax will do, regardless of the squeamishness of professional economists who hallow the “efficient” yet politically unpalatable.

To stave off criticism, Pallas often points directly to what his taxes will fund — take, for example, his mental health and wellbeing levy, essentially a payroll tax to fund the royal commission’s recommendations. With NDIS costs blowing out, Chalmers could similarly introduce an NDIS levy and dare his opponents to invite the bad optics of denying funding to the disabled.

Also consider Pallas’ forthcoming sick pay guarantee business levy, which will fund the extension of his government’s paid sick leave trial for casual workers. This again contrasts with Albanese, who was forced to backflip on a penny-pinching plan to cut isolation payments with no backup scheme in place. 

It may be harder for federal politicians to sprinkle in new taxes given heightened media scrutiny in Canberra, and the federal revenue hole is so structural that a real debate is likely inevitable. But Chalmers’ framing of said debate has thus far been about improving the budget’s bottom line, not delivering tangible programs à la Andrews. This risks rerunning the tax debate that felled Shorten in opposition — publicising their courage on tax, but leaving most voters unable to recall what the extra revenue is being spent on and how it will benefit them.

Andrews has succeeded by making big, bold moves on pressing issues, then tidying up later. As Albanese’s troops slowly pivot from their concerted inoffensiveness in opposition, the boldness of his Victorian counterparts might serve as a light on the hill.