‘How lucky can you get. They were down for the count. They had no idea what they were going to do. Then “pewft” – September 11. And they've got it on a platter.’ The 30-something Labor hack stretched back on the couch and laughed in macho nonchalant fashion. Like so many of the Labor boys when reality bites too hard, he retreated behind the cynical veneer. At the popular Canberra pub, the motley crew of political insiders – bureaucrats, journos and political staffers – stared into their beers and contemplated the chips selection.

After a few moments another staffer broke the silence. ‘I can't think about it that way. I can't believe it was an accident of circumstance and line up to do it all again.’ She pursed her lips. ‘The bottom-line is our vote was soft. We had a big lead in the two-party preferred in February. But the polls swung wildly because people weren't committed to us. We were vulnerable because we hadn't tapped into what people wanted.’

In a sea of outrage, bafflement and disappointment, political watchers of all colours and creeds are scrambling to make sense of the 2001 federal election. Steeped in fear and xenophobia, the campaign has been dubbed one of the lowest ebbs in Australian political history. But a common theme is emerging in the post-mortems. It is not the insecure and anxious electorate. Or even the conservatism of both leaders. The common theme is the policy vacuum.