Some of the most memorable political speeches made in Australia have been made by politicians who are leaving office.

Kim Beazley gave a cracker when leaving parliament, and fairly good ones conceding defeat were givne by John Howard in 1988 and 2001. It was said that if he had been able to move and inspire people and rally troops during his political lifetime, he would not have been spending so much time acknowledging his, and his party’s, failures.

Victory speeches are usually a bit more humdrum, even if before an excited and jubilant crowd. For starters, those who craft them (the speechwriters usually prepare two, one for victory, one for defeat) feel obliged to include clichéd phrases such as “great honour”, “humbled and with a deep feeling of responsibility”, … “We will govern for all Australians”, and “tomorrow we will hit the ground running”. The credit and acknowledgements, win or lose, to campaign staff, party organisers, fallen comrades, and family, these days run longer than the credits on an Oscar-winning movie. Albanese’s speech contained all of this, from a template borrowed, I think, from William Morrisa Hughes 110 years ago.

Optimism, hope and substance are often the first things edited out. Even more from a leader of a government that has seemed timid about its social commitments and its moral duties. But a triumphant, if modest, Albanese unleashed the puppy. There was something in the middle that was worth noticing.

It reached no heights of oratory. Albanese doesn’t do fluency or silken words – or read them well, if someone else penned them. He has no great, or fast wit, though he can see further through a brick wall than most and knows immediately if someone has stumbled. But his meanings are genuine enough. He usually believes in what he is saying. That is, if he is not merely going through the motions, as he is perhaps when reading some of the 10 speeches or statements he gives a day.

His was not a speech brimming with statistics. He was not explaining why his aspirations for human betterment were low. He was not being defensive or resorting to redefinitions. Nor did he use the language of economics or rationing. He did not act as if the laws of economics decreed that an input of X here produced a Y somewhere else, self-evidently a good thing. Compared with some percentage of the gross domestic product there, which would have this effect on interest rates.

Nor did he pander to ideas about lifting and leaning and the idea that half the population are not real citizens because they do not contribute. His words did not have to be parsed to be sure that it had excised words of legal entitlement or subsumed previously made threats of disentitlement – the stuff of Robodebt under a previous regime.

Albo addressed citizens, not the forces of production, and in inclusive language

The speech was general and inclusive in its scope. It actually spoke to people. To individuals. To families and communities. Even to the whole nation. It did not seek to divide the population into them and us. It used the words “you” and “us”. There was nothing particularly remarkable about what was said, other than that it gave some hint of what government was all about.

“When it comes to Australia’s future, all of us have so much reason to be optimistic,” Albanese said “Because when we look at everything going on around the world today, when we consider the changes that will be the future of the world economy, when we think about our people and their smarts and truly there is nowhere else you would rather be than right here …

“This is a time of profound opportunity for our nation. We have everything we need to seize this moment and make it our own. And we must do it together, all of us. Because for Australia to realise our full potential, for our nation to be the very best, every Australian must have the opportunity to be their best. To serve Australian values, we must value every Australian. Every Australian who wants a fair go at work, fair wages for their work, and the right to disconnect when they are done with work. Every Australian who deserves the security of a roof over their head or who dreams of owning their own home. Every woman who wants her contribution to our economy and society to be valued equally.

“Every parent who wants their child to get the best start in life, with cheaper childcare and with fair funding for every student in every school. Everyone who counts on the national disability insurance scheme.

“We will be a government for every Australian who wants to train or re-train for new skills and a good job at public TAFE. Every Australian who works hard for the life-changing opportunity of higher education …”

These are not, of themselves, new campaign commitments. But one would be entitled to assume that it implied that social expenditure, on health, education and social services, was at the top of the government’s list of things to do. And not merely because a pollster or an economist had said that this was the main priority but because these were among the key reasons why we have government at all. Defence, law and order, industry policy and infrastructure provision are important, including in meeting social commitments. Nor are they words that Albanese has not said before. But he has nicely put them forward in a bold manner, rather than, as he has sometimes seemed to do, apologised for the way these priority commitments fall into our cost of living. At least, one might say, he has repudiated the idea that the bag of money for health, welfare and education can be raided to meet our absurd defence commitments, salmon farms in Tasmania or new coal plants.

Dutton was devastated, and in no mood to philosophise

Peter Dutton must have known he had lost long before his concession speech. But he was in a world of pain from the rejection he had received, firstly by his own electorate and from the whole nation. He showed some guts and some decency in accepting responsibility for the verdict on his campaign, and in praising the Labor candidate, Ali France, who defeated him. But he eschewed any opportunity for any reflection on what the election result meant, or a defence of his philosophy or his party’s philosophy. He gave no short account of what had brought him into politics, and why he thought he had been rejected by the silent Australians. He expressed no regrets for taking actions in his ministry which had seemed gratuitously cruel to people who had come to Australia for safety from persecution and war. Nor did he express any regret for some of his polarising statements which attacked disadvantaged Australians, including Indigenous Australians, refugees, immigrants and juvenile offenders. It may be that he has no regrets, though some of his supporters have always insisted that there is, behind that hard-man face, a man of decency, empathy and feeling for others.

Perhaps he judged that this was not the occasion, He was certainly aware that his pollsters had told him that his very personality and character were campaign issues, and that many of those he had alienated feared or despised him.

Of course, it is true that few men or women leave politics of their own choosing. Ask some of the Greens, about whose fate Albanese jeered even as he was calling for respect for the demolished Dutton. Albanese, obviously, has a thing against the Greens, even as he hopes and expects that they will support Labor legislation in the Senate, and even as he has relied on Green preferences to create his majority government. He must differentiate the Labor product from the Green, but the lack of proportion in the way that he does so ought to serve as a reminder that he has yet to stamp his place in history, even as the Greens have ensured their own.

For the moment, however, observers should notice, and applaud, some hint of passion, boldness, defiance and unwillingness to give an inch on core values. Previously he had a tiny majority. Now he has a big one that ought to foreshadow a new resolution. Perhaps a transformation of the sort delivered by the Great Oz to the lion, the scarecrow and the woodman.

We need more of the passion which admirers said were worn on his sleeves. Perhaps that is evident to his colleagues and friends, but it has not been obvious to ordinary Australians. We need more courage, more common sense and more heart. But we also need a new communication between the prime minister and the electorate. We need him thinking aloud. We need him being open to discussion about the merits and demerits of policies, rather than holding everything close to his chest. We need him talking aloud, explaining what he is doing and why. And why he is not doing other things on the agenda. The government ought to be in a continuous dialogue with the governed. If the prime minister is shy, secretive and distrustful of the electorate, more junior and open ministers cannot substitute. Or dare to.

Politicians without obvious humanity are in danger of being replaced by AI

Most politicians go into politics because they want to make a difference to people’s lives. Whatever side one is on, it is not usually about power or the mechanical ways of making others conform to your will or seeing your logic. Nor is it to provide the opportunity for graft and corruption. The attraction is that many of the things in politics matter.

Individuals, parties and the political process can make a difference, can change lives and outcomes. It is because politics involves choice and the division of the pie, and because there is never enough pie for everyone. It’s why able and ambitious politicians put up with the bastardries, the public disdain of their profession and their kind, and the suspicion of their motives and their honesty. Why they elbow their colleagues aside in quests for power and engage in character assassination. Why they engage in fake debates, pretending sometimes that relatively innocuous statements outrage public decency.

It’s the heart in politics which speaks to character. Some politicians are very wary of displaying any heart or any emotion. That may lead to empathy and draw people to you. But it may drive others away or be seen to represent weakness and vulnerability. The risk-averse will cower.

Fundamental character, heart and passion and motivating force can be just the ingredient worth looking for. In the modern day, there is often a vacuum at the surface. Many decisions do not come from deep conviction or ideology, but experience, relatively sensible management of people and things. It may soon be done by AI.

The vision stuff, the philosophy stuff and the priority stuff are not mere baggage. They are usually the only things that make politicians human. For the humans on whose goodwill politicians depend, affection will depend on humanity they display, not their technical skill, their managerialist mantras or the demands that we should trust them.