Deep Dive or Shallow Waters: Peter Dutton's Podcast Performance

Introduction

”Our policies will be squarely aimed at the forgotten Australians, in the suburbs, across regional Australia.” Peter Dutton sure has a way with words, doesn’t he? Sounds like a really nice guy who has a huge heart and is acting in the interest of all Australians? This was certainly the persona he was attempting to contrive in his appearance on Sam Fricker’s recent podcast “Diving Deep” . The irony of a multi-millionaire property mogul positioning himself as the champion of suburban battlers isn’t lost on anyone paying attention – particularly the younger generation (ironically Sam’s target audience) struggling to enter the same property market that built Dutton’s fortune.

Like social-media aware chameleons, political figures are increasingly sidestepping the often antagonistic scrutiny of traditional media, and instead cozying up on podcasts, with (seemingly) open chats. The problem is, this is rarely a true conversation. More like a deliberately constructed narrative, the podcast becomes, not an authentic engagement, but a carefully calculated marketing stunt – a ‘friendly’ wade in the shallow end where hard questions are avoided, and complex realities are glossed over for a more relatable persona.

Dutton, notorious for his hard-right positions and combative political style - including frequent clashes with what he calls “ideologically driven” journalists - appears paradoxically at ease chatting with Olympic diver turned social media star Sam Fricker. It’s quite the contrast: a politician known for his stone-cold stare and aggressive parliamentary performances, sitting down with a 21-year-old Commonwealth Games medalist who’s better known to his 1.2 million TikTok followers for his diving exploits and eco-friendly straw business than his political acumen. Fricker, who openly acknowledges his lack of expertise on every policy he questions Dutton about, represents exactly the kind of non-threatening platform politicians are increasingly seeking out.

While Lech Blaine more accurately describes Dutton as a “bad cop” figure - a man “with a resting death stare” , who sees the world in clear terms of good and evil – here he is, trying desperately to present himself as just another bloke, having a laugh.

Now, examining his appearance on Diving Deep presents an opportunity to expose not just the manipulation, but the cynical intent to sidestep real accountability and present a version of Peter Dutton that bears little resemblance to reality. Dutton (and I expect we’ll see more of this to come from all sides of politics) uses a podcast platform as an easy, unchallenging platform for political gain—a page clearly lifted from the playbook of the recent US election, where both Trump and Harris strategically leveraged accessible platforms for targeted appeal , not genuine engagement.

A Shallow Dive: Where Accountability Goes to Drown

In this podcast episode, Dutton and Fricker settle in for a friendly get-to-know-you in this roughly 60-minute episode of Diving Deep. The questions, or rather, the lack of them, are like dipping your toes in the shallow end. You might get a little wet, but there’s absolutely no risk of drowning in any actual policy specifics or inconvenient truths.

The format, predictable as it is, was clearly designed for a specific purpose. Rather than engaging with actual issues facing everyday Australians, Fricker plays the affable host and lightly draws out Dutton. The questions - and we use the term loosely here - were like inflatable arm bands in the kiddie pool, keeping Dutton safely afloat and far from any challenging depths. Notably absent was any mention of his increasingly hard-right policy positions on immigration, national security, or his controversial stances on climate change. We’re talking surface level probes about his personal life, a touch of reminiscing on his career as a cop (which, let’s be honest, is a carefully cultivated part of his brand), with absolutely no attempts to press him on any real policy commitments.

Unfortunately for Dutton, this raises the issue misinformation by omission. While there was, perhaps, a light probe into why Australia hadn’t adopted nuclear energy (a very safe question), there was silence on the fact that a Howard-era moratorium makes that impossible. There was certainly no risk of discussing the workforce, industry, technology or ongoing emissions complexity that would be required to make nuclear happen. Dutton was allowed to simply gloss over the complexities – and that’s the entire point. It’s a classic example of flooding the zone with superficial content while deliberately avoiding substance, a tactic that’s become increasingly common in modern political discourse.

The chat contrasts starkly with previous descriptions of Dutton as power-hungry with a lack of compassion, whose venomous tongue is often used purely for political achievements. Here is a man who routinely pushes divisive rhetoric about immigration, climate policy, and social issues, yet presents himself as the average Aussie bloke over an hour on a dive-fluencer’s podcast. This isn’t a man who stumbles haphazardly into his political positions; these are carefully calculated moves. As Blaine eloquently puts it, Dutton is not some political maverick with “foot in mouth disease” but a strategist, and this podcast experience is further evidence of this. The calculated nature of choosing Fricker’s platform, the pre-approved topics of casual conversation, the lack of any challenging questions: it’s not coincidental. It’s all deliberately crafted to serve a very specific political purpose.

Manufactured “Authenticity”: The Podcast as a Stage

Now to be clear, this piece does not take issue with politicians appearing on podcasts. In fact, it’s a really good thing. The more accessible our leaders are (vs. the appearance of being) means we can cultivate a level of trust. But this is not an actual conversation, it’s a grotesque Kabuki theatre and Dutton has on his smiley-face-friend-of-the-battler mask.

From the opening seconds when we hear the gushing introduction of “former police officer of 9 years, successful business owner, father of three and now the leader of the opposition,” it was clear this wasn’t going to be Walkley award winning material. Conspicuously absent was any mention of Dutton’s extensive property portfolio or his estimated $300 million net worth - details that might complicate his carefully crafted everyday-Australian narrative.

This specific persona is deliberately designed to appeal to a broader group, make him seem more palatable, more relatable, and, most importantly, trustworthy, regardless of the reality. The Liberal party focus groups have clearly identified that the 16-25s are lacking in their knowledge of Dutton, and it is with this in mind that he exploits his appearance on Diving Deep to appeal to this part of the electorate - the very same demographic increasingly locked out of the property market that built his fortune.

In Diving Deep, Dutton methodically constructs a parasocial relationship with his audience, banking on casual conversation to mask his politics and privilege. The seemingly relaxed context of a podcast, unlike traditional media’s scrutiny, creates an illusion of intimacy. In this format, Dutton isn’t a multi-millionaire property mogul or hardline conservative; he’s just “Pete” sharing stories of nappies, bricklaying fathers, small business entrepreneurialism (apparently have a paper run counts as innovation now) and (conveniently) his time in the police force.

He makes sure to underscore - often - he’s one of “us”: a “pretty basic, normal family operation,” as he describes it. In another section he even goes on to cite “when I finished in the dark ages in 1987” which sounds a lot like a man talking to his mates over beers. These anecdotal moments are deliberately designed to present him as a far more accessible politician than his frequently adversarial performances in the house suggest, while carefully sidestepping the reality of his substantial wealth and business interests.

The deceptive format of the podcast amplifies this effect, with the chat serving no purpose beyond showing off his newly created everyman (or woman, you can guarantee there’s no true-representation of those that identify as non-binary). When you step back and listen, it is clear to see this was an intentional, fully formed, highly strategic move from beginning to end. This carefully curated platform allows him to avoid the harder questions, skip the complexities of properly engaging with policy detail, and most importantly, dodge any discussion of how his own success story has become increasingly impossible for younger Australians. This gambit is another arrow in the full quiver of tactics that Dutton and his Merry Men (and women) have employed throughout the year to avoid being held to account on anything.

Who’s Responsibility Is It Anyway?

Let’s be crystal clear here - while Dutton and his synchronised sycophants will like increasingly turning to these softer, more “accessible” platforms (I mean, there are only so many appearances you can do on Sky News), the real issue isn’t just about the politicians doing the performing. It’s about us - the voters - and our willingness to accept these carefully manufactured performances at face value. The casual, mate-to-mate vibe of podcasts like “Diving Deep” isn’t just convenient; it’s dangerous precisely because it feels so deceptively authentic. And that’s exactly what they’re banking on.

Media literacy isn’t just some buzzword we can throw around anymore - it’s becoming a crucial survival skill in our current political landscape. When a politician deliberately chooses a platform where the host openly admits to knowing sweet bugger all about policy, that’s not a coincidence - it’s a strategy. Australian’s have their heads down trying to survive. They don’t have the time to wade into the legislative complexities of energy frameworks, social media safety or economic policy. And that’s ok.

The point is that Dutton doesn’t get to say “she’ll be right” and get to move on without explaining to SOMEONE the detail and being held to account for mistakes, omissions, inaccuracies and falsehoods. The friendly banter, the relatable anecdotes about nappies and bricklaying dads? They’re smoke and mirrors, designed specifically to distract from the glaring absence of any substantial policy discussion or genuine accountability.

Here’s the kicker - we, as citizens, can’t just sit back and passively consume these political performances like we’re watching some reality TV show. Democracy requires more from us than that. While there might be something appealing about seeing politicians in these more “casual” settings, we can’t let this manufactured intimacy override our need for actual answers to actual questions. When we accept these carefully curated appearances as substitutes for real political discourse, we’re not just audience members - we’re complicit in the dumbing down of our political conversation.

Conclusion

So let’s pull the wedgy out of this ten metre bomb dive of a podcast episode. This is not some organic evolution in how politicians communicate. It’s a deliberate strategy, ripped straight from the international political playbook, designed to sidestep actual scrutiny while building a carefully curated persona for a specific audience. The problem is not the podcasts - it’s that they’re using them to reduce political discourse to the depth of a kiddie pool, banking on the fact that we’ll be too distracted by their “relatable” stories to notice the meaningful (but often boring) analysis drowning in the shallow end.

Here’s your wake-up call: The next time you see a politician pop up on your favourite podcast, remember - they’re not there for a friendly chat. They’re there to sell you a version of themselves that’s about as authentic as that million-dollar Dutton smile. Why? Because they want your vote. It’s up to us to demand they give us decent reasons to have it.

---

Banner image by Black Forest Labs

Model: Flux Ultra v1.1

Prompt: Contemporary abstract oil painting piece of a potato wearing headphones with the cable plugged into a pile of garbage. Discarded pieces of Australian map in garbage pile. 2 dimensional.

Aspect Ratio: 16:9

Seed: 4579623

Safety Tolerance: 2