Luke Foley’s feelings on having male genitalia sprayed on his face are thus: “I always hope for the best, and expect the worst.”
Foley is standing by the New England Highway in Singleton on a Tuesday morning announcing a $23m “rescue package” for roads in the Hunter. His opponent, Mike Baird, has had his bus spraypainted overnight with the words “you’re not welcome” and a picture of a penis.
A journalist stumbles on her wording and asks Foley if he’s worried about “male genitalia being sprayed on your face”. Journalists, including the question asker, start giggling as Foley tries hard not to grin.
“Well, you know me,” he says, the corners of his mouth pulling down in the way Saturday Night Live actors do when they’re trying not to break. “I always hope for the best, and expect the worst.”
It seems to be his approach in general to being the newly minted New South Wales Labor leader.
It is more than two weeks out from an election and voters still do not seem to recognise him from a bar of soap. If Mike Baird’s image is a sitcom style “premier dad” (he’s just a nice family man, he loves Jesus and he also loves the free market), Foley’s image is that of Labor’s unintentionally faceless man.
When talking to my mates about who I was following for the campaign the general response was: “Who?” And when asking fellow journalists what they thought I should ask him, every respondent came back with a joking “WHO ARE YOU?”
Foley has not been working completely in the background for the past few years, but thanks to a combination of being in the upper house and, to put it plainly, looking very much like every other balding, white, 40-something politician in a navy suit, it seems voter familiarity hasn’t come easy.
So, apologising for being so blatantly Leigh Sales-esque, I ask him: “Who are you?”
He responds: “I’m a husband and a father, married with three young kids, lived in Sydney all my life, live in Concord West, I’ve got two girls eight and six, and a five-year-old boy – they’re all at school now.”
You’re also the opposition leader, I helpfully prompt. “Oh yes, and that: I lead the Labor party in my spare time.”
Foley is sitting on his campaign bus, which has a huge photo of his face plastered across it and the slogan “A new approach for NSW”, as it hurtles down the Pacific Highway . In the days spent on the bus, the most startling observation is Foley’s lack of bombastic personality for a leader, particularly in his position. For better or worse, leaders are usually more extroverted, eagerly grabbing the hands or babies of unwitting voters within arm’s reach. Foley is a more reserved character – he can end conversations slightly awkwardly, jangling the change in his pocket as he laughs at a joke, he sometimes seems at a loss to what to say to voters when inevitably pressing the flesh (“me too” he responds to a teenage apprentice who comments that he does not how to behave in front of the cameras during a campaign stop). The opposite to some politicians who seem to lose all of their personality in front of camera but are incredibly engaging in real life, Foley shines at press conference time.
“People are starting to know me, I went back to Flemington markets last Saturday and the man who sells me my spuds said “Luke, Luke, I know who you are!”, my recognition rate is shooting up,” he says laughing when asked if his still largely unknown profile is a problem during one press conference.
“I don’t know why you are so scathing of the democratic process!” he exclaims to another journalist who pushes him on if his electricity policy is populist.
Off camera, however, Foley goes back to someone who does not seem to know what to do with his hands. Perhaps because of his recognition problem there are no street or shopping centre walk throughs, where politicians bump into random people and shake their hands.
If Foley were to do a street walk through there is every chance not a single person would recognise him. Instead he goes to Labor functions, be the location metropolitan or rural (“We heard Sydney people were coming so we bought tofu for the sausage sizzle,” a country Labor member remarks in Singleton) and photo ops such as the Thermal Mechanical Services factory in western Sydney.
“I thought he’d be younger,” a 16-year-old apprentice observed at the factory. Foley is 44. Baird is 46.
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Foley, the son of a single mum, grew up in Sydney with a sister, Bridget. He prefers not to talk about his absent father, who died some time after leaving the family when Foley was eight years old, or go into great detail about his Catholic faith.
“We’re all elected to govern for everyone, so my faith is private but it’s not something I hide, it’s part of who I am. It explains a little about me but certainly is not the whole story,” he told the ABC earlier this month.
A friend of more than 20 years, federal Labor heavyweight, Anthony Albanese, who once shared a house with Foley, says part of the foundation of their friendship was built on their mutual heartache at having to grow up without a father.
“He identifies with doing it tough, him and Bridget did it tough as kids, not having a father around in your life does make a difference to how you’re raised, you miss out on some things, there’s no father to kick the footy with you or take you to the cricket. You notice,” Albanese says.
Foley met his wife, Edel McKenna, in the 1990s and they were married in her village of Augher in Northern Ireland in 2005. Since then Foley has tried to return to McKenna’s native country each year, bringing along the children Aoife, aged eight, Niamh, six, and Patrick, five.
Albanese thinks this has rounded Foley out: “I think that’s given him a broader perspective on the world, Edel’s father is a Catholic farmer in the north of Ireland, going over there has really broadened him out.” Foley is hesitant to agree, his private instinct kicking in.
“I guess it opens up your world view, another culture, where Edel’s family is from in the north, is about three miles from the border, so there’s obviously a lot of history there. I’ve watched the peace process develop as I’ve gone back each time. Her dad’s a farmer so that’s opened me up to hearing about the challenges people on the land face,” he says.
“I guess all of that, where Edel comes from, what her family do, has brought around my world view.”
Where Foley is his most emphatic – aside from his opposition to electricity sales – and passionate is when talking about the Labor party. He got his start in politics in Young Labor and eventually worked his way up through the left faction to become the assistant general secretary of NSW Labor.
It is a notoriously bruising faction to come up through, with the dominant right goading and at times being downright cruel to their left-wing counterparts.
Back in the 1990s you would first believe the next house you buy would be built on the moon before you would entertain the thought that a figure from the left faction would lead the NSW Labor party. However, the people who come through that baptism of fire are known to emerge as much tougher fighters in the political process, often going on to become pivotal in the party - Albanese, John Faulkner, Martin Ferguson, are just three examples. But no matter how clever or socially democratic such faction forged figures are – and Foley certainly possesses those qualities – it still remains jarring to observe the ascension of someone from the left.
A cynic would look for the levers being pulled, question the involvement of Sussex Street, wonder what the grand plan is here but every person Guardian Australia spoke to would only say Foley snared the top job because he is that good.
“He didn’t have an expectation he would lead the Labor party, the opposite given he went into the upper house rather than the lower house. His talent has essentially shone through, and he was no doubt the standout candidate when it became clear [previous Labor leader John Robertson] Robbo would step aside,” Albanese says.
“It wasn’t expected, he’s performed extremely well and I think his training as the NSW left assistant secretary helped, it’s a pretty tough environment, you’re working with people in not a necessarily friendly environment.”
Foley himself follows the same lines.
“It’s simply because I was a hardworking and effective shadow minister, so I came into parliament five minutes before the last election, I was the most junior backbencher, I spoke at length on the ABC about what had gone wrong, which I think is the first time anyone noticed me,” Foley offers.
“When I went into parliament I knew the government was heading for heavy defeat and I wanted to be part of a rescue and recovery operation. The defeat was massive, and I guess I came out of the blocks straight away in opposition, wanting to have a go, and I was noticed for that.”
Multiple people across the party who were only speaking on background told Guardian Australia it is because the party trusted Foley. Even the odd Liberal MP has conceded Foley is just impressive.
Maybe the party which suffered such a comprehensive flogging at the 2011 election, where it lost 32 seats, before the corruption that happened within its government was uncovered in Independent Commission Against Corruption (Icac) hearings is actually, shudder, learning something. It is conceivable, albeit remotely. It should also be noted that Foley was elected the leader unopposed and the seat of Auburn was vacated by sitting MP Barbara Perry after Foley announced he was having a run at it. Perry’s original opponent for Labor preselection, Hicham Zraika, also stepped aside.
Foley stood in the rank and file ballot for the preselection unopposed. He may have been chosen because he is the best man for the job but the fingerprints of Sussex Street are still on the process.
Foley points out he went to a rank and file preselection when head office had the power to just declare him the candidate for Auburn, which Labor holds with a 7.2% margin. What will happen to the Labor party in the admittedly unlikely event Foley loses the seat?
“I don’t know, that’s why I better win it,” he says.
Asked what the hardest part of the job is and what his weaknesses are Foley responds thoughtfully. He is a morning person and has found the night functions difficult as by 9pm he feels like a “zombie”, preferring instead to be up at 5am.
Stopping micromanaging has also been difficult for him. He has gone from one staff member to an entire office of people to write his speeches, take his calls and answer his emails.
He’s comfortable in a press conference, less so in the crowds and one on one: so, is he an introvert?
“I’ve always enjoyed reading and thinking time so in that sense I’m comfortable with my own company but I’ve always had lots of friends and got on well with colleagues and got on well with people, it takes some getting used to going out as leader and there’s a battery of cameras and photographers. It takes some getting used to. I don’t think taking a while to get used to that means you’re an introvert I think any normal person would find that confronting at first,” he says after pausing for a moment.
“There’s times when I’m on stage at a press conference or wherever where I can ham it up a bit, flick the switch to vaudeville, there’s parts of the performance of politics, if I can put it that way, that I quite enjoy, not all of the parts, but some of it.”
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Back on the campaign, the Daily Telegraph have printed a front page showing Foley, as a tiny person, in the pocket of overalls clutching wads of cash. The point is to say he is in the pocket of unions. The paper lists Labor’s promises to increase the number of teachers and nurses in the state as proof.
Asked about it in a press conference Foley says: “I saw some creative artwork yesterday on my opponent’s bus, and there’s some even more creative and out there artwork on the front of the newspaper this morning, it doesn’t worry me”.
On the bus he looks at the paper again and starts laughing. “That terrible Labor, promising more nurses, more teachers and more paramedics!” he says shaking his head, “we couldn’t pay for advertising this good”.
But there’s another underlying message to the increasingly familiar face clad in the clear rimmed spectacles and bald pate comically staring over the top of the denim in the tabloid’s typical photoshop job.
It’s the fact that Luke Foley’s face is there, defiant in expression but still heading up an alternative to what still seems like a sure Coalition victory. Even his detractors have ensured that Labor’s unintentionally faceless man is facing up to it.
