How long do parliamentary terms really last?

There has been a lot of conversation recently about implementing fixed four-year terms for the federal Parliament, with Anthony Albanese indicating support and some reporting that Don Farrell, the special minister of state, is considering whether to move on the issue.

For this blog post I want to look at one particular fact that has been presented in this debate: the average length of parliamentary terms. While the quoted figure of two years and eight months is technically accurate over the entirety of Federation, recent political history (say, over my lifetime) paints a very different picture.

In reality, most parliamentary terms now last for roughly three years, with only a handful of exceptions in the last three decades.

For this report I will only be looking at the time between House of Representatives elections. When Senate elections were held separately from House elections in the 1950s and 1960s the regularity of federal election events were far more regular, but that’s not the point of this exercise. It is also consistent with how others have measured term length.

I have seen this statistic quoted in a few places, but most regularly by Marty at 4 Year Terms Australia. It is referenced on page 8 of this report.

The issue with this graph is that it is cumulative, so the early data only covers a short time period while the later data covers the entire period. So the most recent data is weighed down by one and a quarter centuries of federal politics. Despite this, you can see that the line has been climbing ever since the 33rd parliament (1983-1984) – that means most parliaments have had terms above the long-term average.

I’ve calculated the length of parliamentary terms myself, and this next graph shows each individual case. I’ve also marked the 2 year 8 month mark and the 3 year mark.

There are lengthy periods throughout federal history when parliamentary terms are consistently close to three years. Indeed, prior to 1949, only three parliaments ended up being notably short: 1913-14, 1928-29 and 1929-31.

There was a number of short terms in the 1950s and 1960s, and then in the 1970s and early 1980s full-length terms became the exception.

Yet in my lifetime, every parliament has lasted at least two-and-a-half years, and most quite a bit longer. The 1984-87 and 1987-90 parliaments were ended a few months short of three years, but since then only the elections of 1998 and 2010 were significantly short. Even still, they would have been considered close to full term by the standards of the 1970s.

Putting aside the 1998 and 2010 elections, which brought forward the election schedule in a way that future elections couldn’t catch up, other elections since 1993 have averaged out to pretty much exactly three years. Some are slightly early, but some are slightly late.

The length of terms are also much longer if you look at the median rather than the average. The chart above makes it obvious why: while there are some outlier terms which are much shorter, it is impossible to have outlier terms on the longer end. Over the entirety of Federation, the average term is 2.64 years, but the median term is 2.91 years.

Since 1990, the average term length is 2.91 years, but the median is 2.95. Most elections are held roughly on time.

This shift in election timing is even more obvious if you divide the 125 years of Federation into five 25-year periods.

The second half of the twentieth century was a particular period of parliamentary instability and short terms. Perhaps this explains the increased interest in fixed terms which led to so many states introducing fixed terms around the turn of the century.

So next time you hear someone say that parliaments only last two years and eight months, stop and think. This is based on parliamentary instability that had ceased about forty years ago. Anyone who is actively involved in federal elections has a lived experience that elections generally take place about three years after the last one.

Now I am not an active opponent of reform in this area.

I am agnostic on the question of four-year terms for the House, and my position would probably be decided by what the reform would mean for Senate terms.

On the question of fixed terms, I think the main issue is the annoying period of speculation as we wait for the Prime Minister to announce the date. They generally go for a predictable date close to three years after the last election, but hold their cards close to the chest. It produces a tedious media speculation window, but it also creates significant uncertainty for political campaigners and policy-makers. I hear from public servants that new activity usually dries up as the theoretical election window opens up.

I am not necessarily opposed to fixing terms, but I think there’s more we can do short of constitutional reform. In particular I see no reason why prime ministers can’t just announce the date as a political promise that they can be held to.

New Zealand has had a tradition since 2011 of the prime minister announcing the election date near the start of the year, with the election usually held in September-November. This started in 2011 as John Key wanted to make clear that the election would not clash with a home Rugby World Cup, but people liked it enough that it stuck around.

Every subsequent election has been announced no later than March. Typically the PM announces the date when they return from their summer break. This is not taken to be the start of the election campaign, but rather a choice by the prime minister to let go of their prerogative to decide the election date as late as possible.

Julia Gillard did try something similar in 2013, announcing on January 30 that the election would be held on September 14. This triggered a wave of commentary that treated this announcement as kicking off the “longest campaign ever” when it was nothing of the sort. When Gillard was replaced as prime minister, Kevin Rudd called an election one week earlier, if only to make the point that Gillard’s announcement did not bind him.

While Gillard’s defeat seems to have led to this idea gathering dust, I think it’s worth dusting off and trying again.

Next time the Prime Minister says he’s a fan of fixed terms, journalists should ask him “why not just tell us the date now?” It is entirely in his power, and he can do it when he wants. Or he can set a schedule to announce an election date in the second half of 2027.

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