Why 'social cohesion' is a dangerous phrase in Australian politics – Jeff Sparrow

The establishment loves this phrase. But as Ed Husic found out, imposing consensus from the top isn't democracy – it's erasure.

By Jeff Sparrow – writer, editor and broadcaster

Screengrab – MP for Chifley, Ed Husic

“I have been surprised at the extraordinary amount of energy that has been applied to stop this. I’ve always taken the view there’ll be different views […] That’s democracy.”

So said Labor’s Ed Husic, musing on the fate of motions he’d intended to put to the ALP national conference.

As the Australian’s Simon Benson quipped, the event proved more “coronation than congress”, with no votes contested and every issue resolved on the voices.

The PM could not contain his satisfaction, praising the “most purposeful and united national conference I have attended since I joined the Labor Party back in 1979”.

Anthony Albanese has, after all, made ‘social cohesion’ central to his administration, going so far to anoint Peter Khalil as ‘Special Envoy for Social Cohesion’. But, as Husic’s lament suggests, ‘cohesion’ – a term that implies universal agreement – possesses, at best, an uneasy relationship with ‘democracy’, a concept that requires contestation.

‘Social cohesion’ has been bandied about for a long time: the Sydney Morning Herald declared it under threat as far back as 1851. Andrew Jakubowicz notes that Gough Whitlam referred to the term in his 1972 ‘It’s time’ campaign speech. Infamously, John Howard identified Asian immigration as a threat to ‘social cohesion’; the anti-racist academics associated with the Scanlon Foundation have made it central to their research paradigm.

But if you look at Proquest or other databases of Australian media, you find that, from about 2024, the term’s usage spiked massively.

That’s significant because, in many respects, the substantive divisions in mainstream politics are much more muted than in the past.

Think about Gough Whitlam and the deep unease the Australian and US security services felt about a Labor government they regarded as dangerously radical. Or go back further, to when, in the aftermath of the Second World War, the ALP’s flirtation with bank nationalisation induced near hysteria among big business and its supporters.

For most of the 20th century, the major parties presented distinctive visions of society, with quite different ideas about national security, social policy and (in particular) the economy.

Today, however, a furious agreement prevails – at least in respect of fundamentals. When it comes to, say, core issues such as the US alliance or economic models, the distinctions between Labor and Liberal are relatively trivial.

It’s not just a question of policy, either.

Most Australians think of the First World War as an era of ANZAC-inspired unity. In reality, the two referendums staged over conscription led to a polarisation almost unimaginable today. On a single day in 1916, campaigners for both the Yes and No sides staged multiple competing street meetings in almost every suburb and town in the country.

Back then, progressives and conservatives could mobilise mass organisations. Political parties of all stripes held regular and well-attended meetings. Trade unions, church groups, community organisations: collectively, they provide a scaffolding for public engagement in politics.

Today that’s gone, as Labor’s choreographed national conference exemplifies. In the 21st century, top-down media management governs the old participatory, member-based organisations.

Ironically, the decline of mass politics explains why, despite the policy consensus among mainstream parties, so many people see the public sphere as hopelessly divided. In his much-discussed new book, Anton Jäger argues that the collapse of the old institutional forms contributes to what he calls “hyperpolitics”: the shrill clamour epitomised by (though not constrained to) social media.

“In earlier times,” he writes, “individuals were embedded in dense social networks and participated in a wide array of intermediate associations. Today’s societies are composed of increasingly atomized and isolated individuals. As long as history moves along smoothly and predictably, this need not necessarily be a problem. But when societies enter choppier waters, atomization amplifies their volatility – and the collective incapacity to respond to today’s political and ecological crises.”

The polarisation around culture war flashpoints is real. But compared to the historical divisions that once separated, say, a trade unionist committed to socialism and a conservative fearful of the Red Menace, it’s shallow and unstable. Crucially, the noise generated by online outrage rarely translates into real-world outcomes.

Jäger describes hyperpolitics as “the product of a hard but hollow environment, an attempt to break the iron grip of neoliberalism without the requisite tools to do so”.

That’s what makes the demand for ‘social cohesion’ so ironic.

The genocide in Gaza led to huge protests all over the world, a campaign that brought vast numbers of ordinary people onto the streets in opposition to the pro-Israel consensus of the establishment. For a time, the sentiment seemed likely to develop into a struggle of the old type: a participatory movement with real political heft.

The spike in media references to ‘social cohesion’ came in response, part of a concerted attempt by politicians and pundits to quell popular anger over Gaza. In that context, the anti-democratic connotations of the phrase could not be clearer. Genocide is the crime of all crimes. It’s not a matter about which, in the name of consensus, we should agree to disagree. Rather, we need the killing to stop and the perpetrators brought to account.

As Ed Husic discovered, a consensus imposed from above is not democratic. Nor is it sustainable. The major political parties might agree that a genocide can be passed over as a minor unpleasantness best forgotten. But that’s a fantasy. Genuine disagreements cannot be papered over like that.

A real response to Gaza might contribute to a democratic revival. Social cohesion as a substitute for justice will not.