So today's the day! Tonight's budget is exciting not simply because it will affect our hip pockets. It also sets the parameters for the political stage, because it's Malcolm Turnbull's last chance to give meaning to his prime ministership.
Just a couple of weeks ago, the chance of him doing anything of the sort appeared so remote as to be completely implausible. But then came the "change". For the first time, he's embraced controversy and risked actually doing something to address the fundamental issue facing the country.
Our basic problem is that, since 2006, no politician has been willing to do anything about finding money to fund spending.
First, John Howard needed to fund a flailing re-election campaign and pretend that no fiscal hole was emerging. Then Kevin Rudd had the global financial crisis – a perfect excuse to spend. Julia Gillard needed to keep her backers happy. Then came Tony Abbott, who neutered any chance he may have had to restore the budget to surplus the moment he appointed "Sloppy Joe" Hockey as his treasurer.
The new Malcolm? The Prime Minister announces his school funding plan last week.Credit: Daniel Munoz
The spendthrift habit dies hard. "Slapdash Scott" Morrison proved himself adept at churning out sound bites but (as the last budget proved) he was utterly the wrong person to turn around a budget. And so, until a fortnight ago, tonight's document similarly looked as if it would be a damp squib.
But Turnbull's education initiatives suggest that, just perhaps, and finally, the Prime Minister has really decided he wants to achieve something while he's in the job. To assess this, we need to comprehend the driven personality that is Malcolm, and not just the network of deals and neurones that is Turnbull.
Shakespeare divided life into the seven ages of man. Thus far, we've seen four Malcolms.
The first Malcolm – Shakespeare's infant – was happy and excited. He was thrilled to be Prime Minister, excited to live in such exciting times. By the time he'd finally stopped traversing the country telling everyone it was an exciting time to be an Australian (by which he actually meant he was having a good time), Turnbull seemed to think we'd be content simply because he was stimulated. In other words, he became a blowhard offering nothing. Unfortunately, that particular Malcolm lasted until the election campaign. Voters saw through him and wanted more. But then we got Malcolm No. 2. He was even worse.
The change happened on election night, the moment it became obvious that Turnbull hadn't won the election outright. The new Malcolm was unwilling and petulant; Shakespeare's "whining schoolboy". He spent too much time afterwards blaming others and sulking, but change eventually came. Next, Malcolm became the nation-building lover, "sighing like a furnace", promising airports for Sydney and hydro schemes (well, "feasibility studies", anyway) for the Snowies. Nevertheless, or so far at any rate, all he's done is dust off some old ideas or conjure up empty bubbles; there's been no substance. But these have just been "woeful ballads" that haven't inspired us, because he's been seemingly too frightened to actually do anything.
With the exception of Christopher Pyne's seemingly daily appearance to announce yet more spending on defence, an aura of lassitude, even ennui, appears to have swallowed the government whole. Only one factor has managed to keep the government's hopes alive – the opposition was even worse. Between December 4 and December 6 last year, Bill Shorten recorded an equal, second-lowest-ever rating as "better prime minister", although the same pollster nevertheless confirmed that Labor remained in an election-winning position. Imagine how well the party could do if it actually had policies and looked as if it was preparing for government, instead of just waiting for the Coalition to lose.
However, now, finally, a new Malcolm has made an appearance. This fourth one appears, like Shakespeare's soldier, ready to fight. He's finally introduced some necessary and crucial reforms, even though these have alienated both university students and the entire Catholic school system. What's significant about this is that, for the first time in years, a politician has dared to tell us we can't afford something. What is, however, genuinely inspirational about the changes Turnbull is introducing is that they appear to be driven by the right instincts.
The alterations to the Catholic education system mean, for example, that Kincoppal-Rose Bay, an extremely wealthy private school on the shores of Sydney Harbour and which hosts the "Turnbull Centre" (donated by the Prime Minister) will lose money. The changes implement the Gonski reforms that were emasculated beyond recognition by Gillard's insistence that no one would ever be worse off. This is the very point of governing: the need to choose.
Only one factor has managed to keep the government's hopes alive – the opposition was even worse.
Today's budget will show us if we're seeing a new Turnbull, ready to judge wisely and severely for the right reasons. This is his last chance. When he challenged Abbott for the top job, Turnbull promised us he had a vision for the future. Since he's occupied The Lodge, we've seen no evidence of this even though he's had plenty of time to show how he'd like to change the country. Tonight, we'll see if Turnbull is prepared to continue tackling vested interests, or if that was just a flash in the pan.
Nicholas Stuart is a Canberra writer.