Back in February 2009, one of the world’s most cherished athletes, champion cyclist Lance Armstrong, sent a 109-character missive into the Twittersphere: “Got a note from South Australia’s Premier Mike Rann. He’s now on twitter too. @premiermikerann. Ranny, we miss South Australia.”

The handle @premiermikerann no longer exists, and Armstrong is no longer one of the world’s most cherished athletes.

But back then, this was a big deal. The SA Premier had “discovered” Twitter.

The media obsessive had found a way to circumvent what he sneeringly derided as the “old media” of newspapers and television.

He championed the nascent social media as the ultimate democratic tool, a means to engage directly with elected representatives.

He was, of course, quite right.

The thing is, though, as many who used the fledgling platform to engage him directly discovered, he rarely if ever wrote back.

He didn’t engage.

Which is entirely his prerogative, but it did tend to undermine the notion that the social network was a two-way street, if not a multi-lane superhighway.

Jay Weatherill makes less noise about social media, but more noise on it.

Mostly, though not always, he responds to critics. He engages.

So do some (not all) of his ministers.

I always find it amusing that Twitterati critics of his Treasurer, Tom Koutsantonis, lament that he should have better things to do than hit back (usually rather stridently) at detractors, while vociferously complaining when Government ministers shy from scrutiny.

That’s just one of the many ironies of public life, along with when employees of the most influential and cloistered media corporation in the world complain about freedom of information, or when people engage in fevered debate because the SA Premier suggests he’d like to see more fevered debate informing public policy.

If Oscar Wilde was onto something when he coined the notion that the only thing worse than being talked about was not being talked about, he at least nailed the gulf between the Weatherill Government and the Marshall Opposition.

Weatherill has at times exhibited traits similar to those of his predecessor; he has a canny grasp of the political agenda and an innate belief in his own ability. Where he differs, though, is that he has a genuine belief in consultation. Not in a wide-eyed, kumbaya-singing kind of way, though. Weatherill’s premiership has been built on a very different foundation to that of Rann’s; high unemployment, widespread cynicism, langour with his party’s brand and skepticism in his capacity to deliver genuine change. Moreover, he holds power despite a clear majority of South Australians (at the time of voting) favouring the Liberal alternative, at the whim of a few hundred votes in any given suburban marginal.

Weatherill knows many will scoff at his notion of “Reforming Democracy”, but he also knows it will engage thousands more in the policy process. An engaged electorate is a rare beast in the weary, wary domain of modern politics.

If Oscar Wilde was onto something when he coined the notion that the only thing worse than being talked about was not being talked about, he at least nailed the gulf between the Weatherill Government and the Marshall Opposition.

The state Liberals meet tomorrow morning for their local AGM, with Marshall’s keynote speech set to stick to a well-worn script: SA’s dangerous jobs crisis, calls for immediate tax reform, ESL relief … you know the drill.

If voters have heard all that before, you can bet the party faithful have too. They, like the electorate, are crying out for a semblance of hope, a sign that (as Tony Blair’s famous 1997 election anthem enthused) Things Can Only Get Better.

The Opposition’s Achilles heel is that it is seen as almost an equal partner in SA’s demise. Whenever I hear someone complain about the years of lost opportunity under Labor, a common addendum is to express despair that the Liberals have been unelectable over the same period.

If you keep doing the same thing, you keep getting the same result.

The Opposition and a cynical electorate can jeer at Weatherill’s notions of broadening community engagement and, sure, the rhetoric is pompous and highfalutin, and there’s genuine doubt about the extent to which it will influence public policy outcomes.

But it’s something. It’s different. It’s a new approach.

Does it directly address jobs? No. Does every public policy position have to directly address jobs? No. Are we broadly smart enough to maintain two conversations at the one time. God, I hope so.

Jay Weatherill appears to have a genuine, if politically astute, belief in community consultation. AAP image

There is, of course, another irony in the state’s public life. This Government, which so champions democratic engagement, continues to defend its ICAC model, despite the clandestine nature of its operations now clearly undermining public confidence in its machinations.

Those who fought for an ICAC did so in the interests of making public institutions more transparent and accountable. No-one is suggesting that the commission isn’t doing just that; it’s just that we don’t know what it’s doing.

Commissioner Bruce Lander has made it clear that, at least in some cases, he does not believe there is a public interest defence for leaking information. So does this mean the ICAC is actively pursuing media sources under the guise of corruption? We don’t know.

Two years ago, in a separate investigation, police detective brevet Sergeant Peter Dawe Martin was charged with misusing information gained by public office.

Beneath that terminology, what he had allegedly done, according to reports, was released some information to journalists.

I mention this only to note that when the ICAC chooses to reveal it is investigating a public servant for abuse of public office, no-one really knows whether that means they are allegedly feathering their own nest, or merely trying to expose something they believe is in the public interest.

At the end of it all, the ICAC was established to provide greater trust in public institutions. Right now, it is inadvertently creating the opposite effect, in which case we may well be better off without it altogether than persisting with an imperfect model.

Perhaps this should be discussed at the next Citizens’ Jury? Or you can raise the issue directly with the Premier on Twitter, at @jayweatherill.

He may even write back.

Tom Richardson is a senior journalist with InDaily. His political column is published on Fridays.