You could not make this up about Anthony Albanese – and it says all the things about his management

Anthony Albanese’s latest defence for his absence from the public moments after the Bondi massacre is, in essence, that nobody has asked him to.

Seriously. He won’t attend funerals unless explicitly invited, even though the protocol for political leaders is to quietly make the request before attending to pay their respects.

That’s what other politicians are doing, including the opposition leader and Albo’s own frontbencher Tanya Plibersek.

Albo’s excuse for his absence might sound respectful; however, it’s anything but. The PM is outsourcing basic leadership to grieving families and exhausted organisers, before hiding behind the lack of a formal invite.

It’s also a neat way of ensuring the cameras never capture the one thing he appears most determined to avoid right now: resentment.

At the first of the victims’ funerals, the NSW Premier turned up. The federal Opposition Leader turned up.

A former prime minister turned up. An Albo minister was there too. But the PM wasn’t, because grieving families didn’t go out of their way to reach out to him in their time of need. You couldn’t make this up.

Here is the unvarnished reality of public life: political leaders do not wait passively for an invitation when the nation is in shock.

Anthony Albanese’s latest defence for his absence from the public moments after the Bondi massacre is, in essence, that nobody has asked him to

They reach out, privately and respectfully, and offer to attend. They make the request so the family does not have to. They accept “no” without complaint if that’s the response.

If the answer is “yes,” they turn up, quietly, without turning grief into a stage-managed photo opportunity.

That is what paying respects actually means, and it’s what real leaders do. It is not a marketing tactic; it’s a duty.

Albo knows this. In opposition, during the 2019/20 Black Summer bushfires, he made a point of being present – visiting affected states, getting briefed, and talking about what he was hearing on the ground.

He also pressed Scott Morrison publicly on national coordination and pushed for formal parliamentary recognition of victims and firefighters.

Back then, Albo understood what he seems to have forgotten now: leaders don’t get to opt out of the hard days.

So why the sudden allergy to showing up?

Because this time he isn’t the outsider throwing stones. He is the one in charge, under pressure, and the now PM has plainly decided that the safest course is to minimise the risk of a scene.

The vigil at Bondi Pavilion has grown into a sea of flowers as people come to pay their respects

He watched what happened to Morrison during the fires: heckled, with a handshake refusal becoming an enduring symbol of a prime minister on the nose.

Albo appears determined not to generate the Bondi equivalent to his own political detriment, so he’s prioritising that over being present.

Today he spoke from the comfort of Parliament House in Canberra, far removed from the horrors of Sydney – which is where he should be this week. 

Afraid of a grieving crowd turning its back on him, a shouted rebuke, a protest banner in the background – moments that risk puncturing his carefully cultivated image.

Morrison was often criticised for his marketing approach, but it now seems he had nothing on Albo.

The irony is brutal. Morrison, for all his faults, still turned up. He copped it. He didn’t get to airbrush the anger out of the story by pretending the invitation got lost in the mail. Albo is doing the opposite.

Yes, he says he’s meeting people privately. Fine. Private meetings matter. But private condolences are not a substitute for public duty during a national trauma.

Let’s not pretend there is no calculation being made here by Albo and his coterie of taxpayer-funded spin doctors.

Avoid the funeral, avoid the vigil, avoid the shrine, avoid the rawness—because attending would be unpredictable. It might include grief. It might include rage. It might include protest.

It might include the kind of unfiltered reaction that doesn’t fit neatly into a government’s daily messages.

That is not leadership; it’s image management—exactly what the public hates most about what some politicians focus on. So he instead looks precious waiting for an invite from grieving families, hoping that in doing so he won’t be called out.

How is that better?