He is happily married to wife Ruth, with whom he has three young children. He is photogenic (Liberal staffers initially nicknamed him “Tasty”), studied politics and history at university, and can speak at length on philosophy and theology.
Early in his parliamentary career, Hastie developed a taste for making provocative statements that would get him a quick headline – but he soon buttoned down and realised that if he wanted to rise through the ranks, a bit of discipline was required. So he knuckled down and was eventually appointed to the outer ministry in government and the shadow cabinet in opposition.
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But there are negatives, too: some in the Liberal Party believe his social views are out of touch with modern Australia. Too Trumpist, too nativist.
His anti-immigration stance, for example, risks putting some multicultural communities offside and his opposition to net zero is out of step with most Australians’ views on climate change, according to published polling. He doesn’t support women serving in military combat.
Being based in Perth makes things harder too, given the distance from the east coast and the considerable travel burden it imposes (Labor leader Bob Hawke moved from Perth to Melbourne to realise his ambitions, while Kim Beazley eventually set up a second home base in Sydney).
Hastie has never quite explained whether he is a creationist like his father, Peter, who is a Presbyterian minister and theologian. During the byelection, the younger Hastie was repeatedly asked whether he was a creationist who believed the world was only several thousand years old.
Candidate Hastie would not answer, declaring instead, “I’m proud of my father’s service to the community. I stand behind him. I’m not going to be drawn, like I said, on issues of theology. I’m interested in public policy. There’s no religious test in this country for public office.”
Hastie’s deep faith is not a disqualifier for high office, as the election of Scott Morrison, our first evangelical prime minister, showed. But his failure to front up and answer this question potentially is.
He wants to fundamentally shift what the Coalition stands for, and he has tapped emotive issues that form a deep well of discontent in some parts of the population. The loss of a car-making industry, for example, is a deeply emotive one that goes directly to a sense of national pride and accomplishment. (Ironically, one of Hastie’s mentors, Tony Abbott, hastened its demise.)
His suggestion that Australians felt like “strangers in our own home” also tapped a well of resentment felt by some Australians over high levels of immigration since the end of border closures. The idea of being “othered” in one’s own country is a powerful one.
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That line was borrowed from former British Conservative politician Enoch Powell, who used it in his hugely controversial 1968 “Rivers of Blood” speech.
Powell was sacked from the frontbench by opposition leader Edward Heath and accused of racism (this column does not suggest the same of Hastie). But subsequent polling found three-quarters of Britons agreed with Powell.
Different time, different country. But Hastie’s gamble is that the majority of Australians would agree with him too, even if they aren’t willing to say so in public.
Critics within the Coalition question what Hastie has actually achieved in a legislative sense during his decade in parliament.
His defenders argue that he has been typecast and, particularly under Peter Dutton, was cut out of the decision-making process while serving as shadow defence spokesman, as Niki Savva revealed this week.
After a decade in parliament Hastie no longer wants to be typecast and by speaking out he hopes to pry open the Overton window and broaden public debate.
It may lead to high office one day, but it could also be the beginning of the end of his political career – a fact he has himself acknowledged.
James Massola is chief political commentator for The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age.
