When federal parliament finally rose last week, the government departed looking quite remarkably governmental.

Not only were Kevin Rudd and his Labor colleagues very comfortably ahead in the opinion polls, they had won every important fight they had got into on the floor of the house.

To most people, this would be irrelevant: the proceedings of parliament are seen, when they are noticed at all, as a series of playground squabbles with no application to the rest of Australia. But in the arcane world of politics, parliament is the stage on which politicians are made and broken.

A single bad week in the chamber can have a devastating effect on the morale of the losing party and can seriously destabilise its leadership. Malcolm Turnbull must be very grateful that he does not have to front up again until February. Last week was a complete shemozzle with the opposition performing two major back downs and unable to decide just what form the coalition of the Liberal and National parties was supposed to take; on Thursday night it appeared that the choice was between a can of worms and a dog’s breakfast.

There had already been splits and defections over the treatment of timber plantations as carbon sinks, resulting in one National, Fiona Nash, losing her front bench position. Then the coalition abandoned what had previously been described as its immovable, principled opposition to the private school funding bill and admitted that perhaps it was not too much to accept that private schools should reveal their private income and agree to a national curriculum in return for very large sums of taxpayer funding.

And then on Thursday, total disintegration over the government’s infrastructure fund. The coalition’s official position, determined some time ago and confirmed on the day of the crucial vote, was to move amendments to the legislation, but if these were rejected by the government, to let it pass: blocking a huge stimulatory spending program with the economy grinding to a halt was rightly seen as untenable politics. Coalition senators were therefore supposed to vote “aye” when the bills returned to the senate on Thursday night.

In the event, just five did so: all of them front bench Liberals and all (it was noted sourly by others) unwavering supporters of Malcolm Turnbull. Two Liberals and all the Nationals voted no, a clear act of defiance. And all the other Liberals abstained, giving the “Don’t know or don’t care” movement a majority so overwhelming it looked perilously like consensus. Was this the Liberal version of a political Third Way?

Interestingly among the dominant faction was none other than the Liberal leader in the senate, Nick Minchin, who on this occasion chose to lead his troops from the toilet and coffee shop, where he spent his time while the vote was taken. This was okay, he explained to bemused journalists later, because after all it was only a Mickey Mouse vote — everyone knew the numbers were there to pass the bill. In the circumstances, abstaining was perfectly reasonable.

Well, maybe, but the numbers for just about every vote in the senate are predetermined; very few counts come as a surprise, and last year, when the government held an absolute majority, none at all did. However, Minchin usually managed to postpone his piddle and cappuccino for long enough to put in an appearance.

Had his sudden incontinence and java addiction anything to do with the fact that he has always been, and proudly remains, a leader of the anti-Turnbull push within the party? Should the anarchy of Thursday night be interpreted as a studied challenge to Turnbull’s authority.

Well, no, it shouldn’t. Firstly Turnbull hasn’t got any authority: if he had, the events just described would never have taken place. But secondly, there is only one other contender for the party leadership, and that is Tony Abbott; and while the Liberals may by confused, directionless and verging on the desperate, they are not yet suicidally deranged. Turnbull is safe for the foreseeable future.

But he is, somehow, going to have to assert himself. Even if the chaos of last week is attributed to stuff-up rather than conspiracy, it hardly indicates a united and confident opposition. So two questions have to be resolved immediately.

First, is it a coalition or not? Are the Nationals inside the tent, or like their own senate leader Barnaby Joyce, outside it? They can’t go on having it both ways, and most of the Liberals are sick of them trying to. If the policies of the two parties are as incompatible as they seem, divorce is the only answer. But if the Nats want the benefits of front bench opposition jobs, they will have to conform. They complain that Turnbull doesn’t listen to their concerns; true, but he doesn’t listen to anyone else’s either. Welcome to the club.

Which leads to the second question: are the Libs ready to let go of the John Howard legacy or not? Some still seem unwilling to break the habit of a lifetime and reject his failed policies on industrial relations, federalism and even climate change. This is dumb politics, but it has the support of the Howard huggers in the Murdoch press, which the recalcitrants seem to believe gives it some validity. They should have watched The Howard Years on ABCTV to realise how out of touch their attitudes have become.

Turnbull was elected as leader to drag the party into the present. So far he has been only partially successful and the wins he has had have come at the cost of resentment, disaffection and, as we have seen, open disunity. Obviously he needs to change his style of leadership, which may prove to be very difficult.

Still, it’s worth adding to his already extensive list of new year resolutions. If he fails to do it, he may continue as Liberal leader, but he will never become Prime Minister. Actually he probably won’t anyway, but at least a change of style would give him a chance.