By chance, the business and shareholder communities are racked with dissension over the role of female directors at the same time the parliamentary arm of those communities, the Liberal Party, is engaged in one of its regular bouts on introspection about why it has so few female MPs.

AMP has been ground zero of the female director imbroglio, with various reactionaries using the resignation of Catherine Brenner and the departure (completed or pending) of three female directors as evidence that the emphasis on diversity on corporate boards was undermining governance and performance, was political correctness gone mad etc. Obviously, no one was drawing the same conclusion when white middle-aged men were presiding over the long string of corporate debacles in major companies in recent decades. Where were the women when HIH was collapsing, when James Hardie was ducking its responsibilities, when Babcock and Brown got found out by the financial crisis, when Commonwealth Financial Planning was ripping off customers, when our biggest miners were trashing billions in shareholder value? Or we could go back further to the 1980s, if you like. Strong correlation between incompetence and criminality and having a penis, no?

As writer Jane Caro has noted so well, women should have the right to be every bit as mediocre as men, because god knows there are plenty of mediocre male directors, and CEOs and other executives raking in the big bucks while doing little for, or undermining, the companies that employ them or appoint them to boards. As the AMP example demonstrates, however, perhaps female directors are more prepared to accept responsibility for poor performance than their male counterparts — a habit that women will have to learn to shake if they’re to match male directors.

When it comes to diversity versus ability, critics say, ability should win out — except that on the general performance of Australian business in recent years, neither diversity nor ability have been on vivid display, unless you count scandal after scandal that has trashed the reputation of the entire business community as the kind of thing that should adorn a CV. 

Likewise in politics, no one can say that either the Abbott or Turnbull governments have shown extraordinary competence despite the dearth of women in either their parliamentary ranks or the cabinet. Nor has either shown more skill than the Gillard government. “Chuckles” Cash has done her bit to fly the flag for female mediocrity, with occasional assistance from Kelly O’Dwyer, but they can’t hold a candle to Barnaby Joyce, George Brandis or, frequently, Turnbull himself.

But in politics, gender deadenders cling to the same argument as their business counterparts — it should be about merit, not diversity. “I have never supported quotas, I have supported the best person for the job,” Eric Abetz proudly boasted about an all-male Senate ticket and four out of five male Reps candidates in Tasmania in 2016, a glittering line-up that saw a -5% Senate swing and the loss of three male-held seats.

Merit is a crucial myth in both business and politics. Business portrays itself as the bastion of marketplace rigour where only results count, where the bottom line is the bottom line, and who you know or what you look like doesn’t count. Instead, it’s about networks and circles of influence, often formed at elite private schools and sandstone university colleges. And exercising influence over government policy, regardless of the merits of policy, is a key aim of Australian business — the banks were able to secure protection from the Liberal Party amid swirling scandals for so long because of close personal links between the Liberals and the banking industry. 

Likewise, in politics, networks, factional alignments and personal connections count for far more than any displayed merit, no matter what major party you’re talking about — if anything, the ALP was more hostile to women than the Liberal Party in the 1980s and 1990s. And what is political “merit” anyway? The ability to not flub talking points in public? A willingness to work hard to address constituent concerns? Policy wonkishness? Looking good on breakfast TV? At least there’s a faux-metric of profit and loss in business.

Behind the “merit v diversity” lie is something that opponents of full female participation would really prefer not to have discussed — that it’s rarely about merit, either. And the results prove it.