When the Centre Drifts: Post-Election Reflection

The centre is not holding. That much is clear. But for those who belong to Jesus Christ, the centre was never supposed to be Canberra. And when the culture spins and the political map gets redrawn, Christians don’t panic—we remember. We remember who holds all things together, and we look to the unshakable throne.

The political dust is still settling, but the shape of the landscape is already clear. The 2025 federal election was not merely another electoral cycle—it marked a profound shift. Labor’s landslide victory, securing nearly 90 seats, and the unprecedented ousting of Opposition Leader Peter Dutton from his own seat of Dickson, signal more than just a political realignment. This outcome reflects a deeper cultural shift, revealing the nation’s evolving values and the challenges facing conservative Christians in engaging with contemporary Australia. For the church, this moment demands more than political analysis; it calls for broad theological and cultural reflection of the current landscape. How should believers navigate a society that increasingly marginalises traditional Christian ethics? What does faithfulness look like in a context where the moral compass seems to be reoriented?

The Liberal Party’s defeat, marked by the loss of key urban seats and a diminished presence in the House of Representatives, seems to underscore a rejection by the average metropolitan Australian of what they perceive as outdated, or even extreme, conservative stances. Throughout his campaign, Dutton was marred by the perception of Trump-style politics—a perception that is evidently politically radioactive in Australia. Among many conservative Reformed Christians, the take on Trump is often a preference for many of Trump’s policies, with a qualified wariness about personal conduct. But to the average Australian, especially in the cities, Trumpism is shorthand for chaos (the recent tariffs didn’t help), division, and a moral vision they find deeply offensive. That perception has unfairly stained the Liberals, who now find themselves caricatured as ideologues of the far Right, even, ironically, as their platform drifts further and further towards so-called progressive respectability.

Indeed, this has become increasingly evident over the last decade. That, apart from a smattering of MPs and Senators, the Liberal Party is not truly conservative. As a whole, they have increasingly adopted centre or centre-left positions on social and moral issues. Yet, many Australians, influenced by media and cultural elites, now conflate even moderate conservatism with extremism, made worse by the media’s eagerness to caricature even the mildest centre-right position as reactionary or bigoted. Yet, this rejection of the (in this case, perceived) fringe is not for the Liberals alone. The Greens also suffered relatively significant losses, a glimpse into the fact that it would seem that average Australians are rejecting both poles of perceived extremity.

This reveals not simply a political trend, but a cultural condition. The very definitions of “centre” and “fringe” have shifted. Labour, which upholds sociological views on gender, sexuality, and abortion that are radically out of step with historic Christian ethics, is widely viewed as centrist. This confirms what many of us had already gathered, the centre has not held—it has drifted. And when the cultural centre drifts, what was once common sense can now be condemned as dangerous. It is also illuminating that while the Liberals bled votes from the ‘centre’, they did not bleed from there alone. Due to their departure from conservatism, more than 1.3 million Australians turned to smaller right-leaning parties—those often dismissed as fringe but clearly resonating with a segment of voters who feel betrayed by the moral and social compromises of the mainstream. There is a deep ideological chasm that is increasingly widening. Of course, this landscape is complex. People vote for many reasons—economic self-interest, cultural identity, leadership style, or local issues. Still, the patterns do reveal something.

However, the response of conservative Christians should not be to find a political messiah, but neither should it be to retreat into pious irrelevance. We are called to be salt and light, and that includes the public square.

Why? Because while it is often said that politics is downstream of culture. This is true only partially. Politics also shapes culture. Laws are pedagogical; they teach us what is normal and acceptable. When a government legislates for euthanasia, or removes protections for religious schools, it is not merely reflecting societal trends—it is reinforcing them. This is why Christian engagement with politics must not be indifferent. In this regard, as I have exhorted before, we must recover a doctrine of creation and common grace that does not retreat from public witness. The church is not called to build a theocracy, but it is called to speak truth to power, to love our neighbours by advocating for justice and righteousness, and to resist the false gods of our age—including the idol of the state. And we must do so graciously, but graciously truthful. As Al Mohler put it, “Christians do not hurl the truth like a spear at a sinful world. We are called to live the truth, to teach the truth, to be the truth, and to love our neighbors on the basis of that truth.”^[1]R. Albert Mohler Jr, We Cannot Be Silent: Speaking Truth To A Culture Redefining Sex, Marriage, And The Very Meaning Of Right And Wrong (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2015), . Indeed, to remain culturally silent is not neutrality—it is abdication. This is not optional; it is obedience (Ephesians 4:15).

That said, we must keep our theology clear. The church’s primary mission is not cultural transformation but gospel proclamation. Political engagement must always remain subordinate to our calling to make disciples. But this does not mean we remain silent in the face of cultural decline. It means we speak—not as partisans, but as those whose hope is in a better kingdom. We must also avoid reacting with outrage or despair. As Paul exhorted Timothy, “God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control” (2 Timothy 1:7). The moral confusion of our age is not new to God, nor is it beyond His power to redeem. Cultural opposition may well purify the church and clarify our message.

What the 2025 election reveals, ultimately, is not just a political mood swing, but a spiritual reality. Australians are not merely shifting ideologies—they are redefining the moral centre. And when the centre is not Christ, then the centre cannot hold. Our task is not to chase the centre, but to bear witness to the one true anchor: Jesus Christ, risen and reigning. This requires courage, conviction, and compassion. We must teach our children the truth about gender and humanity, not because it is politically expedient, but because it is the truth. We must support faithful churches and Christian schools, not because they preserve tradition, but because they proclaim Christ.

The 2025 election is not the death of conservatism, nor the triumph of secularism. It is a signpost. It points to a nation in search of meaning, often grasping at shadows. As Christians, we are not called to mimic the culture’s confusion or to sanctify its idols. We are called to be a peculiar people—grounded, hopeful, and faithful. Our hope is not in the restoration of a political party, nor in preserving an era. “Put not your trust in princes, in a son of man, in whom there is no salvation” (Psalm 146:3). Our hope is in the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever — and He remains Lord over every election, every parliament, and every heart. In Him, the centre does hold.