When the Facts Change: In Praise of Politicians Who Pivot
“When the facts change, I change my mind. What do you do?” That famous line, attributed to John Maynard Keynes, ought to be stitched into the lapels of every politician wandering through Parliament House with a talking point in one hand and a Twitter poll in the other. Out here in the Wheatbelt, we know better than most that stubbornness is a vice when the wind shifts and the sheep are heading for the neighbour’s crop.
Which brings us to the newly minted leader of the opposition, Sussan Ley. Yes, the same Sussan Ley who once tabled a private member’s bill to end the live sheep trade. That’s right. A shearer’s cook turned pilot, air traffic controller, sheep farmer, tax accountant, and now politician turned opposition leader. An impressive CV compared to much of the current government’s political class, many of whom have only ever worked for unions or other politicians.
She might not be the flashiest political performer—in fact, some might say she’s simply the last man standing (and yes, women can still be men, at least in political metaphors)—but to her credit, she’s shown signs of being a politician who—shock horror—can change her mind. A rare breed indeed, and worth watching closely, because it means she’s still evolving—a characteristic rarely seen in Canberra.
Farmers across WA may still wince at the memory of Ley’s attempt to do what Labor is now doing: legislate to end the live trade. Her private member’s bill was clearly cooked up in the world of Malcolm Fraser’s Victorian landed aristocracy, where water is on tap and markets are next door. But the Sussan of 2025 now sings a different tune: the trade is safe, viable, and here to stay. Whether she changed her mind because the facts caught up with her, or because political reality did, I don’t particularly care. The fact is—she changed her mind. And that is a good thing.
I’ve always had a soft spot for political repentance. It beats the alternative—leaders who cling to failed ideas with the desperation of a dog chasing the wrong ute. Take Anthony Albanese, who’s spent the last three years yapping up the wrong tree with his 82% renewables by 2030 policy. It might have made sense when the ink was drying on the Paris Agreement and Chris Bowen was still being mistaken for an energy economist. But today? The engineers are nervous, the grid is cracking, the turbines are rusting before they’re spinning, and industry is eyeing the exit.
Yet the Prime Minister doubles down, even as common sense and megawatt shortfalls say otherwise. If Albanese were a sheepdog, he’d be chasing butterflies while the mob disappears over the hill. And unlike Ley, he doesn’t seem to own a rear-view mirror.
History’s littered with examples of both kinds: the reformers who pivot when required, and the ideologues who march themselves—and their countries—into the abyss. John Howard went from anti-GST crusader to its chief evangelist once he realised that real reform requires courage, not dithering like Dutton, standing for nothing.
Tony Abbott—the mad monk, a man of conviction if ever there was—walked away from the Catholic Church. So he began with a record of changing his mind. As a politician, he knew when to park his opposition and change direction. To his political credit, he dropped his resistance to paid parental leave long enough to make a pitch to women voters—and it helped win him the top job.
Barack Obama went from publicly opposing same-sex marriage to embracing it, once the tide of public opinion (and a nudge from Joe Biden) made it politically untenable not to.
And then we have Donald Trump—the ultimate “never change my mind” operator—who flips from “tariffs at all costs to make America great again” to tweeting victory and backing down within the same news cycle. Consistency? Optional.
These are not stories of leadership; they’re cautionary tales. Politicians who can’t change course are dangerous. Just look at Putin’s Russia—or Albanese’s energy policy. They plough on regardless of cost.
So where does Ley sit in this pantheon of pivots and blowouts? Somewhere in the middle, I’d say. She started like a young sheepdog chasing cars, but somewhere along the way, she learned what a mob looks like—and how to read it. That’s more than can be said for our current Prime Minister, who seems to think shouting “net zero!” louder will magically conjure up dispatchable baseload power and keep BHP from relocating to Texas.
Let’s be honest—the Liberals have a shocking habit of chewing through leaders faster than a kelpie chews through a dinner bowl. How long Ley lasts will depend on whether she can convince her party that she knows how to read the mob—and that she stands for more than just not being Albanese. But if she can channel a bit of Keynes and show she’s willing to correct course when the numbers turn red, there’s hope yet.
Because what this country needs—what the bush needs, what the grid needs, what small business and what farmers need—is less ideological entrenchment and more humble recalibration. We need leaders who can say, without a trace of spin, “I was wrong. The facts have changed. So have I.”
And if that sounds like weakness to the Twitter class or the inner-city soy latte commentariat at the ABC, then so be it. Let them live in their trees. The mob doesn’t care what the elite think. They care about what works. They want to know their leaders aren’t marching them off another cliff.
So here’s to the politicians who pivot, who back down, who U-turn, who learn. Here’s to those who trade moral grandstanding for practical outcomes. And here’s to Sussan Ley—for changing her mind. Let’s just hope she’s learned her lesson.
