As Clive Palmer’s new Trumpet of Patriots party bombards the media and our phones with a barrage of advertising and text messages, Australians everywhere wonder why this would-be Wizard of Oz would repeatedly invest millions of dollars into political campaigns he has almost no hope of winning. Is he mad? Is he dumb? Does the man have more dollars than sense?
People everywhere are asking, “What sane person would throw away all that cash knowing they are destined to lose?”
Other questions centre on Palmer’s dubious cast of candidates. Three in particular appear particularly shonky, yet they have cleared whatever low bar passes for vetting by the Trumpet of Patriots gatekeepers. Why wasn’t more care taken?
And then, there is the sense of absolute chaos which characterises the party. Not unlike Palmer’s muse, Donald Trump, drama surrounds Trumpet of Patriots like the swirl of dirt and flies that hover around the “Charlie Brown” cartoon character, Pigpen. Indeed, Charles M Schulz’s description of Pigpen could well apply to the politics and promises of both Palmer and Trump:
“Pigpen is a human soil bank who raises a cloud of dust on a perfectly clean street and passes out gum drops that are invariably black.”
What’s In It for Clive?
Having previously shone a spotlight on Trumpet of Patriots’ party leader Suellen Wrightson, and Wide Bay candidate, Gabrial Pennicott, I thought it was important to answer the question, “What’s in it for Clive?” before we head to the polls on Saturday.
The first thing it’s important to understand is, it’s not about winning seats in parliament or the Senate. Clive doesn’t expect to win seats, and he doesn’t care about losing. Strange as it may seem, although he’s spent hundreds of millions of dollars on electoral campaigns over the last 12 years, winning seats is simply not the point of the exercise.
The point of Palmer’s political activities is principally to protect and advance his own business interests.
Owning a political party provides Palmer with high visibility, influence over public opinion, and the power to shift election results – if only very marginally.
In tight seats, these margins might be crucial. By becoming a high-profile influencer, Palmer effectively builds porcupine quills around his business interests; a warning to politicians that their fortunes in this and future elections may depend on them ensuring a favourable regulatory and commercial environment which allows Palmer to maximise profits and minimize costs. Increase corporate taxes, impose costly environmental protection policies, coerce him into broader concessions for traditional owners, or refuse Palmer a profitable mining lease, and you may find him using his considerable resources against you.
Politicians are all too aware that a tiny percentage of the national vote may not be enough to win Trumpet of Patriots seats, but their preferences might cause enough of a swing to make you lose yours. In a country divided roughly 50/50 between progressives and conservatives, the loss of a single marginal seat could mean losing government. Palmer aspires to be a “king maker.”
This harnesses what scholars call potential power or “the shadow of power” – when you don’t actually have to wield power, because simply knowing what you might do, people will modify their actions in order to appease you.
Investing hundreds of millions of dollars into media advertising also gives Palmer potential power. Ideally, we hope that our media and journalists are independent. But when an advertiser like Palmer is throwing tens of millions of dollars in your direction, media barons and editors may well be reluctant to voice unrestrained criticism of either Palmer’s party or his mining and tourism interests. It’s a bit like having a wealthy great-aunt you dare not cross, lest you be written out of the will.
In short, Palmer’s investment in politics is motivated almost entirely by a desire to reshape Australia’s political and media landscapes in ways that favour his business portfolio.
Tax Write-Off?
Some have speculated that the millions Palmer pours into playing politics is a clever tax write-off. As far as I can tell, most of the money he spends is not tax deductible. Of course, Palmer has access to the very best accountants, and there may well be loopholes that can be exploited. But, generally, I think we should assume this is not his motivation.
While hundreds of millions seem an enormous amount to most of us, it’s a drop in the ocean for Palmer. Palmer’s current net worth is estimated at around $23 billion. As a percentage of his overall wealth, $200 million (an estimate of his overall spend since starting the Palmer United Party in 2013) is roughly equivalent to the average Aussie splashing out a few thousand dollars on a clapped-out, second-hand car, or spending $300 a year on streaming services. Confirming this, when a Queensland court ordered a temporary freeze on $200 million of Palmer’s personal assets in 2018, Palmer brushed it off as a negligible sum.
Amortized over 12 years, Clive’s investment in politics is a pittance. In fact, he said during a recent speech to the National Press Club, “This is my golf.”
Protecting Asset Values
For the ultra-wealthy, power lies in the perceived market value of your assets.
Palmer’s wealth is not just held in cash, but in physical properties such as mining leases and real estate. Some of his wealth is in intangible assets such as his brand value, his ability to negotiate favourable contracts or agreements, and his ability to influence the government of the day.
All of these factors are enhanced by Palmer’s involvement in politics – but are not in the least bit contingent on him winning any seats.
Trumpet of Patriots brings Palmer unprecedented media exposure, and earns him an international reputation as a high-profile mover and shaker with the determination and power to take on the Australian government. It buys him a good measure of influence with government and the media, and, internationally, he presents as someone who can influence legislation which might compromise his business interests. All these things increase the asset value of Palmer’s portfolio.
Why is this important? For a tycoon like Palmer, the value of your assets determines the availability and amount of loans you can negotiate. It also provides power when negotiating contracts – e.g. with Chinese investors. A businessman with a robust asset portfolio can command better terms, more favourable joint-venture agreements, and less regulatory oversight. Investors have more confidence in a person who has shown he is politically influential and willing to challenge adverse regulatory changes.
Having a high asset value can also give you some immunity to fines. If a $200 million fine doesn’t matter to you, you are not going to run your business in fear of it. It will not be a deterrent, nor will it affect your wealth or power.
In 2014 Palmer had a highly publicized run-in with his Chinese investors and the Chinese government – potentially making his assets a less attractive acquisition for foreign investors. While much of Palmer’s current anti-immigration rhetoric may seem counter-productive by adding salt to the wound, many believe his asset values are now at a level where investors are willing to see the political rhetoric he spouts as something distinct from his business dealings.
Money talks. But, for people like Trump and Palmer, money is not an end in itself. Money – or, rather, assets – buy power, influence and the freedom to do as you damn well please. Your asset value places a kind of protective bubble around your wealth – the higher your asset value, the more invincible you become. Even insulting your investors can be forgiven if you’re making them enough money.
So, while Palmer may not earn a single seat in parliament, nor even recoup his investment in monetary terms, his political antics provide him with improved deal terms, immunity from negative publicity, and protected or improved asset values.
In short, Trumpet of Patriots has very little to do with improving the lives of working class and middle-class Australians, and almost everything to do with protecting Palmer’s assets.
Framing the Narrative
Palmer is almost constantly in battle with the government or with ASIC – both in and out of the courts. His political campaign aims to denigrate the legitimacy of both, and casts Palmer as a victim of the system. This has a five-fold effect:
- His potential to affect outcomes in marginal seats makes it more difficult for politicians to attack him or threaten his interests
- The public spotlight he invites, potentially makes courts more cautious about ruling against him
- His bellicosity signals to his investors that he will fight tooth and nail against anything that might diminish the value of his assets and they may well decide its not worth the cost or the drama
- His political circus distracts from his own corporate shenanigans
- And, in casting himself as a victim, fighting a corrupt and biased system on behalf of all Australians, Palmer maintains a degree of support as a popular hero
Why All the Chaos?
The chaos and buffoonery surrounding Palmer and Trumpet of Patriots is a feature, not a bug.
Those who have observed Palmer behind the scenes don’t see the caricature he presents in public, but a shrewd, intelligent, calculating businessman – a master-strategist whose image gains him followers, money, influence and power.
The public Clive Palmer is essentially Australia’s Wizard of Oz. Holed up in his corporate headquarters, one can imagine him using smoke and mirrors to impress the good folk of Emerald City with a fearsome show of strength and bravado.
But, behind the curtain, stands an ordinary man, furiously pulling levers and pushing buttons to make the system work to his advantage, maintain his power, and hide the reality of what is really going on.
Palmer gains political power and enhances his brand by being highly visible. It profits him and his brand to be seen as a player. That’s why we see the big yellow billboards, television ads galore, full page newspaper advertisements and a whole slew of provocative statements. As long as people are talking about Palmer and his party – even if the reaction is negative – his investment is working its magic.
Questionable Candidates – A Feature, Not a Bug
Just so, the highly questionable candidates Palmer’s party has put forward during this campaign are unlikely to be the result of oversights in vetting. Rather, these have shaped up as ideal candidates to gain maximum publicity. Trumpet of Patriots styles itself as a party of grass-roots, non-politicians – rebels and mavericks fighting the system. A few ex-cons and villains only enhance that image; they’re an asset, not a liability.
Palmer wants to be seen as a ‘disruptor’. Choosing disruptive candidates is entirely on brand and becomes part of the spectacle. These are Palmer’s “circus freaks” – pushed to the front of the grand parade to shock, amaze and create interest and drama – and to distract from the machinations taking place behind the curtain.
Choosing candidates with shady pasts – people who other parties are likely to reject, and who may have difficulty finding respectable employment – is also a great strategy for creating loyal and grateful foot soldiers.
While Palmer’s candidates may genuinely believe they are fighting some sovereign citizen cause and that they have a great chance of being elected, the fact is they’re being played by Palmer as pawns. When the election is over, they will have put in a great deal of effort and, probably, money, for the primary purpose of making a billionaire richer.
The purpose of Trumpet of Patriots is not to make Australians more wealthy or more free; but to build enough behind the scenes influence and power to allow Palmer to reconstruct the political terrain in a way that will most advantage his business and personal wealth.
Throwing People Under the Bus
In order to achieve his aims, Palmer, like many other right-wing politicians, has chosen a populist, nationalist political strategy reminiscent of that used by Hitler in the 1930s. His party’s name is evidence that he does not resile from the observation he is emulating Trump.
One of the key features of this kind of strategy is to throw your fellow citizens under the bus for fun and profit.
Look, nobody is going to vote for or even listen to a billionaire who says his vanity party is set up for the sole purpose of making himself richer – and them poorer. But, by throwing in some policies that sound appealing to the masses (even if they’re impractical, and potentially detrimental) and by playing on voters’ existing fears and prejudices, he can gain enough of a following to make him dangerous.
It’s easy for Palmer to text us making grand promises – he knows full well he is never going to get a chance to implement those policies. And who will be blamed when Trumpet of Patriots isn’t voted in? The ‘corrupt’ mainstream parties and the ‘biased’ media. Certainly not Palmer. It’s win-win all the way. (I’m thinking of Mel Brooks’ movie, The Producers, in which his protagonists plan the biggest Broadway flop of all time in order to claim it as a tax write-off.) Failure, in the right context, can be something to aspire to.
Throwing minorities under the bus is a strategy as old as time. Currently being employed by right-wing Christians to great effect in the USA, it was used in Ancient Rome where, ironically, Christians were targeted as the root of all society’s ills. Today, it is Christians – not unlike Catholic Clive Palmer – targeting migrants, First Nations and transgender people.
“These are your enemies! And only I can save you from them!”
This is what the trumpet of patriots is trumpeting.
For Clive, it might all be fun and games – an intriguing diversion like a lazy game of golf on a Sunday afternoon. But the constant repetition of messages that “there are only two genders”, feeding the propaganda that transgender women pose a threat to women in public bathrooms and in sport, suggesting that too many migrants are causing our housing crisis, and that Indigenous Australians are impertinently demanding too much by politely asking us to spend five minutes at the start of public gatherings to acknowledge their unceded ownership of the land, has real life, negative consequences on those people’s lives.
This kind of propaganda pushes open the Overton Window – making statements that once would have spelled political suicide for a candidate now sound reasonable, natural and even politically advantageous. The endorsement of a man of Palmer’s stature, wealth and power gives these attacks on minorities the imprimatur of being based on “common sense” arguments against “proven threats to the ‘Australian way of life.’” It’s the political equivalent of letting loose the flying monkeys.
Of course, neither Palmer nor his 2IC, Suellen Wrightson, would be so coarse as to hurl abuse at, physically attack, or even actively discriminate against the minorities they so casually cast as society’s villains. But their rhetoric incites and emboldens those who have no such compunction.
Indigenous Australians
Just last week, following Palmer’s and Wrightson’s lead, neo-Nazis, disrupted the Welcome to Country at a Melbourne Anzac Day service, causing great distress to many present but, most of all, to Indigenous participants.
Words have real life effects. Trumpet of Patriots’ rhetoric creates a toxic culture for First Nations people with repeated ‘dog-whistles’ that abuse, discrimination and public humiliation is justified in the cause of ‘defending our nation’; no matter that any threats are confected.
While Indigenous Australians are tough and resilient, constant pressure is strategically designed to wear them down. The abuse and discrimination that flows from Trumpet of Patriots’ kind of rhetoric has the potential to frighten and silence Indigenous Australians, making them reluctant to put themselves forward and fight for their rights.
Opposition to The Voice referendum (to which Palmer contributed $2 million) had the same effect; it was specifically intended to demoralize and disempower Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people.
Clive Palmer and Gina Rinehart were the main protagonists behind the “No” campaign. Why? Because their freedom to operate and their profits are negatively impacted by the requirement to negotiate with traditional owners. Nothing would enrich and empower Clive and Gina so much as a disempowered, disunited, uneducated, downtrodden, frightened, demoralized Indigenous population. The Voice, which promised exactly the opposite to First Nations people was anathema to these fossil fuel billionaires.
Migrants
Similarly, the attack on migrants promises more benefits than simply gaining popular political support from prejudiced, Anglo-Celtic Australians. A significant proportion of the mining industry workforce consists of migrant workers and workers from ethnic backgrounds. If these people are made to feel insecure, unwelcome, frightened and downtrodden by racist attacks they may tend to be more compliant, less likely to make wage demands, and more reluctant to instigate legal or union action. Every racist attack has a silver lining if you’re a coal baron.
Transgender People
Finally, by attacking transgender people – particularly transgender women – Palmer rides the wave of anti-trans sentiment currently being whipped up authoritarian leaders across the globe.
Transgender people are an easy target and a small and powerless enough minority not to cause much political backlash. These attacks have populist appeal and also serve to distract attention from Palmer’s own many failings, and complex court cases.
It’s important to note that, historically, when transgender people are targeted by governments, an attack on women’s reproductive rights will not be far behind. Both represent unwarranted government intrusion into “bodily autonomy, medical decision-making, liberty, privacy, and equality.” It’s a matter of speaking out when your fellow citizens’ rights are threatened, because you may well be next.
Anti-trans rhetoric has its own consequences. While attacking transgender people may simply be performative for Palmer – a means of grabbing media headlines, and populist support – it negatively impacts the lived experience of transgender people.
Transgender women, in particular, become victims of social exclusion, distrust, stigmatization, discrimination and abuse. Their lives become hell. Instead of targeting the non-trans men who killed an average of two women per week last year, Palmer and his party target transgender women who, as far as I can find, were responsible for no murders nor any rapes in Australia either last year or in 2025. In fact, transgender women are far more likely to be victims than perpetrators of sexual assault or physical violence.
A recent study published on The Conversation shows that the disparity between the mental health of transgender and non-transgender people is growing wider year by year, and that this is correlated with the effects of a toxic and discriminatory culture. Transgender people have high rates of suicide, depression, and self-harm – not because of who they are, but because of how they are treated. Palmer and his cohorts not only add to this toxicity but take a large whisk to the cauldron to stir it up.
Deadly Consequences
In short, while Clive Palmer, emulating the Wizard of Oz, pulls the levers and pushes the buttons of his political smoke and mirrors charade, people suffer, people become ill, and people die.
The billionaire becomes richer, but at what expense?
What is his legacy?
Where is his conscience? It is no absolution to argue that Palmer is also a philanthropist. Words are weapons. No amount of philanthropy will atone for the harm Palmer’s party is vicariously inflicting on innocent and vulnerable Australians.
And, one is tempted to ask, how does his Catholic God sit with Clive’s preference for whacking metaphorical golf balls at real, innocent, vulnerable human beings over harmlessly driving real ones on a Gold Coast golf course?
Palmer may see himself as Australia’s Wizard of Oz, pulling the wool over our eyes with a spectacular display of larger than life bells and whistles – bread and circuses. But it’s time the curtain was pulled back on the Wizard to reveal that the whole show is a pitiful sham.
Gladly, the Cross-Eyed Bear 